The room smelled like old whiskey, filled with tall chairs, walls all low light and sharper edges. A single bright bulb swung above the table, casting a dull halo over faces carved by work and violence. Men shifted in their chairs, knives of silence between them, each waiting for the one man they knew to make sense of the mess outside.
Cassimo did not hurry. He let them speak into the hush as though they were filling a jar for him to close later. He was a careful listener; cruelty without thought was waste. When at last he turned from the window and sat, the murmur died like wind dropped behind a wall. He took a slow drag on his cigarette, the ember flaring, and then spoke only when the smoke had thinned.
"What do you have on Navarro?" He asked as he places his ring filled fingers on the table.
"We know his moves," Ramon began, folding his hands on the scarred wood. "Mazatlán's clean, his men run smooth. Cash is moving through Belize and Panama like we planned. But there's noise, financial watchdogs in Panama, and a few sloppy signatures in Veracruz."
Cassimo's eyes narrowed but he did not interrupt. He liked the raw shape of information before the polish of opinion.
Sergio leaned forward then, voice careful. "Navarro's finished the Solaris negotiations. The Asians signed off last two week, and the U.S. investors closed the paper last week He's got green lights and money coming in a legit face to cover what's under the table. Project Solaris is a line of credit and a public shield. It will give Navarro leverage in daylight and laundering channels at night.
Cassimo smiled without humor, palms flat on the table. "So he's buying himself breathing room and a louder working chain. The more he looks like a man of industry, the easier it will be for him to forget how dirt works."
Sergio continued. "We could cut the routes that feed Solaris. Make a hole in the supply chain so investors start asking questions"
"Or leak the Panama flags to a journalist who doesn't care whose life she burns. Financial heat will make the board stagger." Ramon suggested.
"We could equally push Valdez forward as a detonator, let him act loud and fast so that while Navarro's men chase noise, we bleed him where he's soft." Segio added.
Casimo listened and weighed each proposal like a man deciding how to cut a throat with precision. "I like how that sounds". He finally said.
Across the table, Sanchez, one of the newer faces, leaned forward. "We heard about his last meeting," he said carefully. "The one at Navarro headquarters. Our source in the cleaning crew said there was tension. The Monterrey deal isn't going as smooth as they planned. Caleb's under pressure. They're losing time and money."
That got Cassimo's attention. He turned from the window, finally meeting their eyes. "Caleb," he said slowly, tasting the name like something bitter. "Navarro's right hand. The clever one."
Ramon nodded. "He's clever, yes. But he can also be a loophole. Men like him break when they hesitate."
Cassimo smirked faintly. "Then we'll make him hesitate more."
The men shifted, they knew that tone. When Cassimo found a weakness, he didn't let go.
He poured himself another drink, the ice clinking against glass. "What about his woman?" he asked suddenly, voice lazy but sharp underneath.
Silence. Then Sergio spoke again. "Isabella. Gavin's daughter."
Cassimo chuckled low, the sound cold. "Ah, Gavin. The traitor who thought he could play both sides." A faint shadow passed through his eyes, not regret, but memory. "I should've killed him then. But torture teaches better lessons than death."
He leaned back in his chair, swirling his drink. "And now the daughter sleeps under the same roof as her father's buyer. The Devil himself."
"She doesn't mean much to him," Ramon said. "From what we hear, he barely looks at her. Keeps her in that mansion like a ghost."
Cassimo's jaw flexed slightly. "So he doesn't love her."
"No, boss," Sergio replied. "To him, she's just payment. A warm body to fill a bed."
Cassimo smirked, a dark glint in his eyes. "Then she's worthless to him. Which means… she's useful to me."
Ramon frowned. "You think she's a way in?"
Cassimo's tone shifted, low, deliberate, almost thoughtful.
"She's not his weakness yet," he said. "But sometimes, the things a man ignores become the ones that undo him. She's in his house. She hears things. Sees things. If she ever decides she hates him enough… she could open a door we couldn't."
He set the glass down, leaning forward, voice quiet now. "Until then, we wait. Watch. Press where it hurts. Caleb's failing him, that's the first crack. Find me more like it."
Sergio nodded. "What about Valdez?"
Cassimo's eyes darkened, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "Valdez is noise. He thinks moving faster makes him stronger. He'll make a mess before he makes progress. Let him keep Navarro busy, he'll soften the ground for us."
He rose from his chair,his white overalls sweeping the floor, cigarette between his fingers, the glow cutting across his face.
"Navarro thinks silence protects him," he said softly. "But silence is where the walls start to rot."
Cassimo turned toward the door, voice low and certain. "We'll keep listening until something breaks."
He paused, looking back once more. "And when it does…"
He smiled, slow, cold, confident. "…we take everything."