REESE

chapter forty.

"All teams on standby, we are two minutes out."

Our team of eighty was hidden in the Dry Van trailers of six Fiore Transport trucks. Gavino and his team were in the first truck, Landon's team was in the second, Max and Bruno's team was in the third, Rocco's was in the fourth, Carver's was in the fifth and lastly, my team was in the sixth.

My sixth trailer was altered into a surveillance setup, which Mauro would sit behind during the duration of the raid. He was going to stay in truck six so he could control the Baudelaire yacht cameras, send live raid footage over to Italy, England and America where our anxious empires were watching, and simultaneously track Henri Buadelaire's location via our dispatched drones.

Mauro had the most pivotal job, if he didn't manage to effectively control every camera in a two mile radius, give us instructions on how to navigate through the yacht, and monitor any movement coming our way, then this raid was going to end before it even started.

"One minute."

I anxiously shifted my weight from one foot to the other as I took a look at my team. Fitted in tactical gear from head to toe, every single one of our soldiers were identical but unidentifiable. The ballistics armour on their heads fit like full-face motorcycle helmets with dark visors altered with night vision, so no outside threat could see any soldier's face unless the helmet was completely removed. Black Kevlar vests sat on top of long-sleeve jackets that didn't have any empire marks, semi-automatic weapons with no identifiable prints or serial numbers were all configured to the soldiers currently holding them and extra ammo rested on everyone's fitted utility belts.

The only way someone could differentiate between one of our soldiers and higher command was if they somehow got close enough to figure out that Gavino, Max, Bruno, Rocco, Landon, and Carver and I had a small silver lining on the left side of our vests.

Our soldiers needed something to identify us with, something unnoticeable to anyone who wasn't specifically looking and the silver did exactly that. It represented the metallic stamp that every Don signed under when the American-English-Italian alliance was finalized. It was designed not only for the identification of higher command but also as a gesture to the three Dons watching from their respective countries since we were here in their name.

"Approaching."

My heart jerked painfully as six simultaneous hissing sounds pierced the air and the semi-trucks came to a stop. The brakes were loud, the sound of air pressure releasing had no doubt already alerted the French soldiers on board the yacht that someone had arrived onto their territory of Conex. Our trailers and comms went dead silent as our driver doors opened and Tommasso, Flavio and their team of operators slowly piled out of the trucks.

I pushed away from the wall I was leaning against and made my way towards Mauro so I could see what was happening outside. "A French soldier is approaching you, Mr. Fiore. He has three more men watching from the first deck of the yacht." Mauro spoke quietly into his headset. "Keep calm, keep your mouth shut, and remember Elroy Baudelaire himself sent you here."

Tommaso wheezed noisily, the sound sending a bundle of nerves straight into my stomach. He needed to reign it in, his obvious anxiety was a blatant tell. If the angry French soldier approaching had even half a brain cell, he would quickly realize just off Tommasso's face that something was wrong. We could not afford that to happen.

"Do you suddenly have asthma, Tommaso?" Gavino's hissing voice filled the comms. I watched as Tommaso replied mutely with a jerky shake of his head. "Yeah, I didn't think so. Breathe fucking properly."

I held in a snort. Tommaso must have found that incredibly helpful.

"Fiore."A rough accented voice had me immediately stiffening. "Qu'est-ce que tu fous ici?" (What the hell are you doing here?)