Thirty-One
Anthony Sorrell poured himself a glass of white grape juice. He sipped the icy beverage, well aware that the dark eyes of his second-in-command followed his every movement.
“It is handled?” Marco Sant' Omero pried carefully.
“Of course.” Sorrell answered the question impatiently. It was a question he should not have entertained at all. Even the rawest soldier in the organization knew that when Anthony Sorrell requested a ‘favor' of one of the other families, he was never refused. “I expect the action to begin any moment now.”
Marco gave a bark of nervous laughter. “Corinthos is really going to be that predictable?”
“Michael Corinthos is an insignificant man. No, the true heart of his organization is his ‘hammer', Jason Morgan.” Anthony Sorrell bared his teeth. “It was Morgan who orchestrated the operation that took out Paulie.” He paused. “It was a very efficient operation,” Sorrell conceded grudgingly. “And one that Morgan will pay dearly for.”
Sorrell's quiet proclamation made Marco Sant' Omero's blood run cold. The powerful mob boss' creative tortures were legendary – not just among the members of the organization, but worldwide. Hardened Mafioso superstitiously crossed themselves when asked to recount stories of Anthony Sorrell's early actions.
Marco knew that the boss was still angered over the method Corinthos' men had chosen to dispose of the young guard Paulie. Among the organization, to be murdered and dumped in the street was to die without respect or honor. The gesture was the ultimate insult a Mafioso could receive.
“What's going to happen to Corinthos?” Marco knew that Jason Morgan's fate had been sealed. But he was curious as to the impending fate of the rival mob boss.
“Mr. Corinthos will be very fortunate. He will die quickly.” Sorrell drained his glass. “But not before he witnesses the destruction of everything he holds dear in his life.”
