Another section of the pier, safely out of police surveillance. Frank Costello and Billy leaned over the railing, watching as a group of armed Chinese escorts guided the delegates onto a ship—along with a suitcase filled with counterfeit 'goods'.
"Don't they know we have a navy?" Costello sneered. He had just swindled a million dollars with ease and even managed to set these Chinese buyers up to be cuffed by the FBI. Business was booming.
Billy watched the small fishing boat fade into the dark sea, unease gnawing at his gut. Where are the cops? The deal's done—why haven't they moved in? The longer he thought about it, the angrier he got, fists clenching at his sides. He had already leaked everything—every detail of the deal—and they still couldn't catch Costello?
He glanced sideways at Costello. That mocking smile sent a chill straight down his spine. How the hell did this guy see through everything?
Out at sea, Joey Tai barked orders, telling his men to stay sharp. This was only phase one. They had the goods, sure—but the real challenge was getting them safely back to New York, then shipping them onward to Asia. None of this could move through legal channels; smuggling was the only option.
A representative, clutching a box, looked at Joey with gratitude. "Thanks to you, we managed to secure these cutting-edge chips."
Joey smiled politely. "No problem. We're all far from home—might as well do something meaningful for it."
For a moment, everything felt smooth, almost optimistic.
Then the ocean lit up.
Searchlights snapped on, cutting through the darkness. Ships closed in from every direction.
"FBI!"
"The vessel ahead, stop immediately and prepare for inspection!"
Faces went pale. Joey's smile vanished. How did they get here so fast? That's impossible.
No time to think—only to act.
"Dump the guns! Now!" Joey snapped.
Those could not fall into FBI hands.
He turned to the representative. "Throw the chips overboard too. If they catch us with contraband, we're finished."
The man hesitated. "Isn't there another way? We just got these—"
"Throw them!" Joey's voice hardened. "Listen—if they catch our people, we'll be out in a few years. But if they catch this? We're dead. You want that kind of trouble?"
As the FBI ships closed in, Joey grabbed the box himself and hurled it into the ocean.
The representative let out a quiet sigh, watching it sink. Understanding didn't make it hurt any less.
Then—
A searchlight locked onto the exact spot where the box disappeared.
Divers hit the water immediately.
Joey's face went white.
Shit. They were ready. They knew exactly what to look for.
Only one explanation made sense.
The Winter Hill Gang.
Betrayal.
"Those Irish bastards…" Joey muttered, mind racing for a way out.
Beside him, the representative frowned deeply. This was spiraling fast. Before the FBI could board, he discreetly pulled out his phone and contacted his people back home.
Then something even stranger happened.
The encircling FBI ships… stopped.
A standoff.
One side: Boston FBI.
The other: New York FBI.
Both had Joey's boat boxed in—but they weren't working together.
On a lead vessel, Denham lowered his binoculars, a cold smirk forming. Luca had called it perfectly. Boston FBI and the Winter Hill Gang were in bed together. This whole "deal" had been a setup from the start.
"Figures," Denham muttered. "Boston boys playing house with the mob."
He raised his voice. "If you won't let us in, then you don't get to play either. These suspects are coming with us."
He ordered his crew forward, boldly cutting off the Boston agents.
Chaos erupted.
Boston FBI stormed over, furious.
"Denham! What the hell do you think you're doing? This is our operation!"
Denham didn't flinch. "Not anymore. I'm taking them."
"They're smuggling military chips! We have evidence!"
"I'm running a drug investigation," Denham shot back. "And they're suspects."
"Don't bullshit me—I've been watching all night!" The Boston agent held up a dripping box. "This is the evidence! Hand them over!"
Denham snorted. "Evidence? That your game chips? Or maybe lightbulb sockets? Go ahead—open it."
The Boston agent froze.
How the hell does he know it's fake?
Their whole plan had hinged on turning fake evidence into "real" charges later, with a little paperwork magic and Costello's cooperation. Dirty—but effective.
Now it was blown wide open.
"Open it," Denham pressed. "Or should I?"
The Boston lead's face darkened. "Don't forget who they are. You're American—what are you doing, protecting them?"
"I'm protecting the law," Denham snapped. "Bring real evidence, and they're yours. Otherwise? Not happening."
"You're insane!" the Boston chief barked. "This is bigger than drugs—this is international leverage!"
"I deal in facts," Denham replied coldly. "Not fantasies."
A long, tense silence followed.
Then Denham twisted the knife.
"Funny how you wouldn't cooperate on investigating the Boston mob," he said. "Too cozy with the Winter Hill boys? Didn't want your cash flow interrupted?"
"Bullshit! That's an informant!"
"Save it."
Denham waved his men forward. Joey and his crew were already being escorted aboard.
"Last chance," Denham said. "You leaving, or you coming to New York with me?"
The Boston agent clenched his jaw, gripping the useless box. "These are real chips, Denham. I'm warning you—"
Denham turned away. "Move out."
Engines roared.
The New York ships pulled back, taking Joey and the others with them.
The Boston team could only watch, powerless.
"Damn it!" the chief shouted, hurling the box back into the sea. "To hell with this!"
He was livid. They never should've trusted Costello to handle the deal. The man had flipped it before they could even lock it down.
Back on Denham's ship, Joey stood there, completely thrown.
What the hell just happened?
Then he recognized Denham—one of the detectives who'd been poking around Chinatown.
"Officer Denham," Joey said carefully, "we're not smuggling drugs. You can search us. You won't find anything."
Denham didn't even look impressed. "Save it. Everyone knows what you've been up to. You're coming in."
Joey chuckled lightly. "We're just out enjoying the sea breeze."
"Oh yeah?" Denham shot back. "Came all the way to Boston, made a deal, and walked away empty-handed? Rough night."
Silence.
Joey's eyes darkened. "Officer, accusations require evidence."
"Tell that to the Judge," Denham said, glancing at the representative. "Looks like we landed a pretty big fish tonight."
[Ding! You assisted Denham in preventing a jurisdictional conflict between FBI divisions and helped apprehend multiple suspects. You upheld peace on the East Coast]
[Gain Skill Points x20]
[Gain Skill Fragments x10]
[Night Vision +5%]
[Remaining Skill Fragments: 123]
Back at the SSR Club, Luca received Denham's call—they had brought everyone in.
Without Luca's interference, the Boston FBI would have caught them red-handed. And even if Denham had taken them first, walking away clean wouldn't have been easy—at best, they'd avoid the military smuggling charge.
Luca closed the system panel and stretched lazily.
"You want chips?" he muttered. "No can buy it for 150 million anymore."
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