Chapter 13 - Operation NorthboundThe Gulfstream G650 touched down at Montreal-Mirabel International Airport at 3:00 AM under a blanket of heavy, swirling snow. The Canadian winter bit through my heavy wool overcoat the moment I stepped down the mobile staircase, but the biting cold only sharpened my focus.
Vance and four of our most elite enforcers moved in a tight formation, escorting me to a bulletproof convoy waiting on the tarmac.
"The Montreal cell is operating out of an old shipping warehouse near the Saint Lawrence River," Vance briefed me, tapping away on a tactical tablet as the SUV surged into the snowy night. "Led by a guy named Viktor Rostov—one of Julian’s old lieutenants who managed to slip across the border before the feds locked down Chicago."
"How many men?" I asked, watching the frozen city lights streak past the tinted glass.
"Roughly thirty. They’re running a heroin and contraband pipeline through the docks, trying to rebuild the syndicate's financial base."
I leaned back against the leather seat, closing my eyes for a fraction of a second. I could have ignored them. I could have sent word to the Commission telling them to handle their own mess. But leaving a rabid dog alive near your back door was an invitation for disaster.
"We don't destroy the operation, Vance," I said quietly, opening my eyes.
Vance glanced at me in the rearview mirror, confused. "Boss?"
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"We take it over. Every dock, every warehouse, every shipping container. If the Commission wants a Moretti guarding the northern gates, I'll give them a warden they'll never forget."
Twenty minutes later, our convoy slipped silently into the perimeter of the Montreal shipping yard.
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