Tracking Shadows (Shadows of Justice 4) Read Online Free PDF

grid. Personally, he wasn't in much mood to deal with urgent, high end, or hard core smuggling, but professionally, Slick Micky didn't have the luxury of moods.
    He tapped the screen to light up the text box and keyed in a simple: "Awake."
    "Need two cases of Canadian Whiskey."
    Micky groaned at a bad memory of that swill. Business first, judgment second. With the speed of experience, he factored his connections, trade-offs, and risks. He'd neutralized a would-be assassin – for the moment – but Ben hadn't pushed Sis out of that window. He was too green and possibly too squeamish to kill anyone. "Have to pass this time. Try Dakota."
    He pushed his chair back from the monitor, ready to look through the personnel files for a replacement for Sis when the damned messenger alert chimed again.
    "Can't. He's dead."
    Micky was grateful he never enabled the camera or voice chat on this set up. That was something he should've known – would've known – if he'd kept his girls on schedule.
    "When?"
    "A few hours ago. Can you come through with the whiskey?"
    Absolutely not. But he'd be damned before he sent business to the creepy Reverend. Or worse, Montalbano. That entitled Italian mob prince had his fingers in every sort of pie. Micky might straddle the line between legal and not-so-legal, but Montalbano ignored it entirely.
    "Wait one." He turned to a different computer, locked and protected on the internal system with state of the art encryption. The system came as a favor from one of his military tech contacts for keeping the guy's sister out of jail after a club bust.
    God, it was good to be connected.
    According to his log of trades and favors, there was a small pub owner in Gary, Indiana who might be willing to pad his inventory reports for a bigger share of real coffee over the holidays.
    Micky negotiated for the alcohol, haggling more over exchange times and sites than the actual value.
    When the details were locked down, he put his computer avatar to sleep. The rest of Chicago would have to wait for all the restricted things they wanted until he had his world secure again. Until whoever murdered Sis paid an equally terminal price.
     
    * * *
     
    "I'm not paying you for a fucking spree. Hit the target as ordered. I'm cutting your pay in half every day he lives."
    Trina rolled her eyes at the read out marching across the miniature screen of her cell phone in a repeating loop. It wasn't a surprise. She researched all her clients and knew he liked to intimidate with his volatile, dangerous Mobster tactics whenever he could. As crime boss or client, Montalbano didn't scare her. He, like everyone else, assumed she killed for the joy or the money. But this particular hit wasn't about the money and as for her chosen profession, Montalbano could issue an elimination order, but they both knew if he had someone good enough, he wouldn't need her to take out Slick Micky.
    Men.
    It was just another irritating fact that most of her business came through the dummy male identity she'd set up to gain the jobs people thought only a man could handle. Montalbano was probably already calling her male persona, effectively hiring her to take out herself. It was funny if she took the time to think about it.
    Minutes passed and the message changed. "Contact me immediately."
    'Immediately' was open for interpretation, in Trina's opinion. She turned off the device and slid it into the pocket secreted in the lining of her coat. She'd contact him when she had a lead on Micky and make them both happy.
    Watching the hotel's kitchen door for three straight days was boring as hell, but it was her best bet. Restaurants had to report recipes and submit to ingredient audits, though all the players knew how to game the system, and how to pad the flavors of legal, synthetic ingredients with the genuine product.
    For three days, she'd watched the pastry chef peek into the alley and carry out more trash than the dishwashers and busboys. For three days she'd