“Everything is in place, Mr. Sorrell.” Even though Anthony Sorrell's new consigliere had been instructed to call him by his first name, the young man did not feel comfortable enough in his new position to do so.
“You have put together a very sound plan,” Sorrell commended him. He was impressed with the detailed scheme that his young second-in-command had devised in only a matter of hours. “Were there any difficulties with the details?”
Vittorio Calvo shook his head. “None, sir. Everyone I spoke to was eager to lend a hand in this.” He took a seat at the table opposite Sorrell. “I passed on all those who were too eager,” Vittorio explained. “The last thing this job needs is somebody trying to do more than we asked him to.”
“Good, good,” Tony Sorrell chuckled as he thought about it all. “I will bet that at this very moment the authorities are reviewing their plans, preparing to short circuit any plans we might have to attack Corinthos during his transfer to Pentonville.”
Vittorio allowed himself a small smile. “If they only knew the truth,” he mused. “We are going to be their hidden backup, make sure Sonny Corinthos makes it to Pentonville like he's supposed to.” Vittorio looked over at his boss. “How long do you think he'll last before he cracks, Padrone ?”
“The echo of cell doors closing is unlike anything a man will ever experience in his lifetime.” Sorrell indirectly made reference to his one-time arrest and incarceration as a young man. “Strong men rise above it. Weak men such as Corinthos break beneath the sound. His fear of small spaces will only serve to hasten his collapse.”
Anthony Sorrell stroked his chin. “But perhaps Michael Corinthos will surprise me and find the strength to overcome both his fear and his surroundings.”
“And if he does?” Vittorio wondered.
“Then we kill him.”