“Are you crazy? You don’t go looking for those people. They’re dangerous. Folks who cross them don’t do well.”
“Still,” Stanton said, “where?”
The woman hesitated, then answered reluctantly.
“There’s an old pigeon loft off Pond Road. They hang out there sometimes. Their little clubhouse. But if I were you, I’d stay far away from it, especially at night.”
Stanton nodded and placed the money on the small table by her door anyway.
“Thank you. If Nina or Alex comes back, tell them Michael Stanton was looking for them. Here’s my card and number.”
The woman took the card, squinted at it, then gasped and covered her mouth.
“Stanton?”
“That’s right.”
“The one from TV?”
Michael gave a crooked smile.
“That one.”
“Well I’ll be…” she started, but Stanton was already heading back down the stairs.
His security men were waiting downstairs. One look at his face and they straightened up.
“We’re going to Pond Road,” Stanton said as he got into the SUV. “There’s supposed to be an old pigeon loft there.”
“Mr. Stanton, it’s late,” Sam said carefully. “Maybe we wait till morning?”
“No,” Stanton said. “Morning may be too late.”
On the way, he called Boris.
“I need everything you’ve got on Samir Gazi. And send two more men to Pond Road. I’ll text the location.”
“What’s happening, Michael?” Boris asked, concern now obvious in his voice.
“Possibly my… Alex Keller is in danger. He may have gotten tangled up with Gazi’s crew.”
There was a pause on the other end.
“Michael, this could get ugly. Gazi isn’t some street punk. He has ties to larger criminal networks, and his people are connected to serious violent crimes.”
“All the more reason to move fast. Send the men and the file.”
Stanton ended the call and stared out the window. The city slid by—bright and polished downtown, then darker and rougher as they moved outward. Two worlds existing side by side, crossing paths only when something went wrong. Fifteen years ago he had chosen one world over the other. Career over Nina. Success over the child she carried. That choice had brought him wealth, influence, comfort. But had it brought him anything worth keeping?
The phone buzzed again. Boris had sent over Gazi’s file. Stanton scanned it quickly: “Samir Gazi, age 32. Four convictions—robbery, extortion, aggravated assault, smuggling. Last sentence served in state prison. Released three years ago. According to intelligence, controls illicit trafficking in three city districts. Uses minors for criminal errands. Armed and dangerous.”
A photo was attached: dark-skinned man, hard eyes, a scar running across one cheek. Stanton felt the temperature inside him drop. His son was in this man’s orbit?
“We’re here,” Sam said, pulling over. “That building up on the hill. Used to be a pigeon loft.”
Stanton peered into the dark. Against the night sky stood the outline of a small structure on a rise. A dull light leaked through boarded-up windows.
“Wait for backup?” the second guard asked.
“No.” Stanton opened the door. “We circle the building first. See what we’re dealing with.”
They got out and moved toward the loft. The night air was cold enough to raise goosebumps, but what Stanton felt had little to do with temperature. For the first time in years, he was genuinely afraid—not for himself, but for a boy he had never known and who now mattered more than he could explain.
As they got closer, they heard muffled voices and music. Shadows moved past one of the windows.
“Five or six inside,” Sam whispered after peeking around the corner. “Looks like they’re drinking.”
“Only adults that I can see,” said the other guard. “No sign of kids.”
“We go around,” Stanton said quietly.
They moved carefully along the wall. Each side of the building had a window, all partly boarded up. The rear door was secured with a padlock.
“There’s another way in,” Sam said, pointing to a metal ladder leading to the roof. “Used to be a hatch up top for the birds.”
Stanton nodded.
“All right. Here’s the plan. I go in through the front and keep them occupied. You two get up there and look inside from above. If you see the boy, signal me. Don’t make a move unless I say so.”
“Mr. Stanton, that’s too risky,” Sam objected. “Let me go in instead.”
“No,” Stanton said firmly. “The boy knows me. And…” He stopped. How was he supposed to explain to these men that he felt personally responsible for Alex in a way that went beyond reason? “And I’ve spent my life negotiating with difficult people.”
The guards exchanged a look but didn’t argue.
“At least take this,” Sam said, offering him a small handgun. “Just in case.”
Michael shook his head.
