"It’s the Vanni brothers," his partner, , whispered, flicking a cigarette into the dark water. "If we move now, we catch the shipment. If we wait, we catch the bribe."
Elias didn't answer. He was looking at a black sedan parked a hundred yards away. Inside were the "Ghosts"—the internal affairs unit that had been tailing Thorne’s squad for three weeks. If Elias took the bust, the Vanni syndicate would put a hit on his family. If he took the bribe, the Ghosts would have him in handcuffs before the ink on the bills was dry. "We do neither," Elias said, his voice like gravel.
In the confusion, Elias slipped a GPS tracker onto the bumper of the sedan—not the smugglers' car, but the Internal Affairs vehicle.
He pulled his service weapon, but instead of aiming at the smugglers, he fired a single shot into the air. The pier exploded into chaos. The Vannis scrambled, thinking it was a rival gang hit. The Ghosts sped forward, sirens screaming, thinking the sting had gone live.