“Murphy was afraid to call me himself, the fucker. We should have killed Ferrara when we had the chance.”
“You know we can’t do that, right?” Roland reminded Rémy of their laws.
“You don’t have to recite and verse of our law to me. I know. My hands are tied until the criminal justice system gets their act together. Summon Murphy. He wouldn’t talk to me on the phone, but he will talk to me in person. He must know what kind of evidence the court needs, and by the gods, we’ll find it. Double the guards on my mate—don’t even let him take a piss without one of the Enforcers outside the door and window. I also want a meeting with Don Ferone, the sooner the better. We’ll meet on his turf—it will make him feel better about what I have to say. Now, Roland!”
Roland scurried out of the office and pulled out the Enforcers from Rémy’s guard.