Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Misha's face appeared at the corner of the screen. “The Vizzini Family didn't answer any of the Don's calls.”
King David nodded. “Their actions make sense. Prior to our arrival in Italy, authorities seized 115 kilograms of cocaine.”
J.P. quirked his brows. “Who's shipment?”
“The shipment was meant for the ‘Ndrangheta. The Mancuso Family to be exact. Everyone knows that the Sicilians control the police here and throughout the country,” King David said, “Had we not arrived, a war between the Sicilians and ‘Ndrangheta would have happened.”
Kaz curved his lips into a satisfying smile. “Then, Sicily will stay out of the conflict.”
“Well. . .” Misha's face disappeared. The screen displayed tons of blocked footage divided in a grid. “Italy has seventy-seven airports. The Sicilians have sent people to the majority of them, especially the international ones.”
Kaz sneered. “They shut the airports down?”
The screen switched to muted news channel footage.
I squinted and read the breaking news tickers scrolling along the bottom. “Italy has locked down the country due to deadly virus—Nord-C.”
Giorgio's voice went shaky. “Virus?”
J.P. shook his head. “There's no virus. The Sicilians shut down the country.”
Max crossed his arms over his chest. “Why?”
Kaz answered, “The Sicilians don't want us to have a way out.”
Giorgio looked at us. “So, there is no virus?”
I tensed. “They're trying to kill us, Kaz?”
He shook his head. “Sicily is more forcing our hands. They want us to wipe out 'Ndrangheta. Then, they probably plan to take over the region.”
J.P. raised one finger. “About that.”
Kaz sighed. “I am sure you have some ideas of who should control the area after this war.”
“I do. Calabrians are suspicious of outsiders. Russian rule will not work here. I remember my father telling me stories about generations of the Brotherhood failing here—”
“Careful, pansy.”
J.P. held out his hands. “The French and Italians are practically cousins. We know the people here. We know the region. We know the process. It would be a simple transition.”
“It would.” Kaz nodded. “But, I don't like you.”
Misha interrupted. “And we have more pressing matters.”
Kaz put his attention on his cousin. “Go ahead.”
“Mancuso and Gallo soldiers have been loading vans with weapons. My people have counted over fifty vans.”
My heart seized in my chest.
Misha continued, “They also have hired the few gypsies in the area that are still alive, after Kazimir burned down their neighborhood.”
Valentina beamed in pride. “Thank you, brother.”
“Anything for you.”
The screen showed an aerial view of a large neighborhood. Huge barricades had been put up in front of the main roads as if to block the Russians from getting in.
The camera swooped over the houses and focused on hundreds of men dressed in black, working fast, loading weapons, and carrying rifles. Many wore various masks and gloves.
I leaned close to Kaz. “Why are they hiding their identities?”
“To cause confusion. If you don't know what family or gang is shooting at you, then you do not know who to retaliate against.”
“In Harlem,” Max shook his head. “They want you to know it's them whose blasting you.”
The screen switched to a full view of Misha in his spaceship control room. “This is not Harlem, my friend. Be careful.”
I side eyed Misha.
He's with me. He'll be fine.
Misha put his view back on Kaz. “The Italians will be heading your way soon, cousin. I see you have several helicopters on the roof with pilots in them.”
Kaz does?
“My suggestion is to get everyone in them and fly away to another town further away, until I can somehow get more people to you.”
To my surprise, Kaz grinned. “That will not be necessary.”
Misha loudly exhaled. “They know your location.”
“I am aware of that.” Kaz scanned the table. “How many shooters do we have?”
King David spoke, “With the Brotherhood and Harlem Crew combined, it's over a hundred.”
J.P. chimed in, “I brought even more of my people.”
Misha sighed. “Still, 'Ndrangheta outnumbers you, and we haven't gotten to Black Axe.”
“What are they doing?”
That usual cool confidence left Misha's face. “We have been having difficulty figuring out Fela and his people's location. It's like they have gone underground.”
Louis bobbed his head. “Because they did.”
We all turned to him.
“They have several underground bunkers full of food, water, and anything they would need to survive,” Louis explained.
Misha frowned. “Still, my satellites should have found them.”
Louis wagged his finger. “Fela has made sure they are well-hidden.”
“Satellite remote sensing is infallible for detecting underground structures.”
Louis countered, “Nothing is infallible.”
“Medium and high-resolution satellite sensors, including Landsat can find them. Areas covered by natural soil where underground structures are present or absent can easily be detected, as a result of the change in the spectral signature of the vegetation throughout the phenological stages—”
“Sure, you have vegetation indices.” Louis shrugged. “Such as the normalized difference vegetation index, simple ratio, and enhanced vegetation index may be used for this purpose.”
What the fuck are they talking about?
They lost me at medium and high-resolution satellite.