"Clap!" a forceful slap made a loud sound that filled the room, and left a red hand mark on the face of George Corin's face.
"You … fucking useless imbecile!" Walt Coring cursed at his second in command in name, his younger brother: "Do you know how much we had to pay for those three gifteds? What were you thinking?"
"I… I just got the intel that those two cops are in Emilia's pocket so I wanted to send a message..." George Corin stammered with his left hand on his cheek: "I didn't know she'd hire someone else to ambush them!"
"And how many times have I told you not to do anything with any supposed intel about Emilia that just happened to surface on the street? " Walt Corin's finger pointed at George Corin was shaking due to his anger: "And how many times have I told you that you can't run a plan with the gifted mercs without consulting me?! Now not only did you waste three of our best mercs, you also wasted another chance to get some intel from that bitch's operation! Have you even considered for one minute that we could use those two dirty desperate cops as our way in?"
"No..."
"That's why you're the fucking imbecile and the shame of the whole fucking family! " Walt Corin was almost jumping and stomping when: "From now on, you stay out of the business, you continue with your little dispensaries on the streets and leave the fight to the seat of the table to me! You understand?"
"... yes."
"Boss, Ricardo just called for you." just this moment, a middle aged man in a grey suit went into the room and interrupted the conversation: "He has only five minutes."
"On my way." Walt Corin raced out of the room.
George Corin watched as Walt Corin left. Shortly after the door was closed, he frustratedly yelled and flipped the expensive coffee table in the room, shattering the glass tabletop. "Roland, who is that contact that we have to buy the red crystals?"
"I don't think that's a good idea sir." the middle aged man in a grey suit said: "If you put orders on the market for the crystals, it might create the unwanted image that our family is lacking in it. This will be a sign of weakness."
"I don't care! Just tell me the goddamn contact!"
"I can't tell you that, sir. That contact is still in the hands of Mr. Walt Corin." the middle aged man in a grey suit shook his head: "You'll need to ask him for it."
"Fuck you! Fuck you, you little spineless piece of shit!" George Corin stormed out of the room.
In the other room, Walt Corin connected with Ricardo Corin via a landline phone, who was locked in prison and serving time for conspiracy of murder.
"You got the intel I want?" this was the first thing Walt asked.
"Yes. And more." Ricardo answered: "Took a whole lot of effort, but I got what you were asking for."
"Tell me."
"There's this really nice hipster coffee place in Palo Alto, where the rich and boring kind go to get their coffee and pumpkin spiced lattes and apple fritters." Ricardo paused for a short moment, then started speaking very carefully: "You've gotta be invited or have a membership card to ask for anything on the hidden menu. From what I heard, they can make you a fine cup of drip coffee with the best cocoa beans."
"... understood, thank you for the recommendation." Walt Corin wrote some notes on a simple piece of notepad: "Palo Alto warehouse, need contact." then he asked: "Do you know where I can get a membership?"
"Ask Rose. She knows." Ricardo answered simply then asked: "Have you found the man that put me here?"
"No. " Walt sighed: "I've been looking and asking all over, there was almost nothing about the man on the street. No one has heard of this Chinese man who can take away people's powers. It's like he's a ghost."
"That's not possible. He must have left some tracks."
"If you can think of anything, call me again. You didn't really give me much to go on. There's like a million and a half Chinese men in the bay."
After hanging up the phone, Walt Corin walked back to the previous room where Roland was still waiting for him. He took a disgusted and frustrated look at the broken coffee table, then asked: "Roland, you know something about a warehouse in Palo Alto? I just got word from Ricardo that I'll need to talk to someone there."
"There are no warehouses in Palo Alto anymore. The place is too expensive for that kind of business."
"Come on, Roland. Throw me a bone here." Walt Corin shook his head impatiently: "I know you're not supposed to start serving me until I've got the seat at the table, but right now I'm practically there. There's nothing Emilia can do to replace me. So why don't you do me a solid and let me in on the need-to-know so I can wrap this whole charade up?"
Rolland stayed silent for a while, then nodded: "Okay. It's not a warehouse. It's a nightclub. You'll wanna ask for the manager. And when they say the manager is not there, tell them you'll look for them in the loft."
"Noted. Thank you." Walt Corin took out his cellphone and diabled a number: "Hey, Ira? The plan's a go. Let's set it up."
"You're sure Emilia will fall for this 'deal' you have?" after Walt Corin finished with his phone call, Rolland asked: "I want you to know, sir, that employing an external arms dealer in this kind of operation is very unorthodox and could be … frowned upon by people at the table."
"Well, then the table could use some out of the box thinking." Walt Corin shook his head: "And as a back up, I will get some more help from the warehouse - nightclub. "
"Good luck with your plans." Rolland nodded.
"Oh, and… just out of curiosity." Walt Corin was just about to walk out of the room before he turned to Rolland once again: "Do you happen to know some … expendable small time players. Like a dive bar motorcycle gang or a smaller Los Diablos?"