Half an hour later, in the Newark wharf area, a bald old white man in a jacket walked toward them. Bill stepped forward to scan the surroundings before signaling someone to open the car door.
Inside the car, Sean and the old man froze simultaneously, both surprised to see each other there.
After a moment, the old man opened the door and started to get out, but Sean called out, "Wait."
"I didn't expect to see you here, and the vet never mentioned it was you," Sean said, genuinely surprised.
"More than a month ago, I never would have imagined you'd kill Hector and the others," the old man replied.
"Wasn't this inevitable from the start?" Sean countered.
Old Mike paused, realizing that leaving today wouldn't be straightforward. "What do you want from me?" he asked.
"Don't worry, I'm not asking you to kill anyone," Sean replied with a light laugh.
Old Mike chose not to react to Sean's jab at his combat skills and simply watched him with a calm demeanor, waiting for the next steps.
"You know, just a month ago, I was an ordinary guy, clueless about the world here," Sean continued, gesturing to the back of his head. "My team and I don't know enough about Newark or the surrounding areas. I need someone who can provide insights."
"A consultant," Old Mike stated.
"You won't turn me down, right?" Sean asked, a smile on his face.
"What do you need me to do?" Old Mike reiterated.
"Let's talk somewhere else—maybe over coffee or at a restaurant?" Sean suggested.
Twenty minutes later, Sean and Old Mike sat across from each other in a coffee shop in Jersey City.
Having been a police officer for over thirty years, Old Mike was well-acquainted with the ins and outs of Newark. He knew the major players in the various gangs, their territories, and the conflicts that existed between them. Despite changes in leadership, the same faces remained on the ground—regular visitors to the police station, where Old Mike had cultivated a network of informants and sources over the years.
With every word Old Mike spoke, Sean felt more certain about hiring him as a consultant.
Old Mike's lengthy tenure at the police department meant he had connections with everyone, from the chief to the newcomers. He was aware of individual quirks, interests, and who was most susceptible to bribery from gangs. Yet, he understood the limits of what he could divulge—especially now.
"How does a salary of $100,000 sound? Come help me," Sean proposed, lifting his coffee cup in a gesture to Old Mike.
"Are you asking me to take Salamanca's place?" Old Mike inquired after a thoughtful pause.
He didn't question Sean's background, as he had already heard about a smuggler named Sean who had come to town, but he hadn't connected him to the man whose head had been shot a month ago.
"I won't," Sean replied, disappointed that Old Mike showed no surprise. "Are you really that expressionless?"
"You stop being surprised after thirty years on the force," Old Mike said with a slight shake of his head.
"Well, you're a dull one," Sean shrugged. "Just to be clear, I'm a legitimate businessman, and I don't engage in illegal activities, so I won't take over Salamanca's role. But..."
Old Mike leaned in, anticipating Sean's next words.
"But a friend of mine named Jonas would take that role on—he'd do it well."
"What about the drugs? Will you still be dealing?" Old Mike asked.
"Jonas? Let me correct that misconception," Sean said, snorting. "He's a good guy, a fighter, and he steers clear of drugs."
"Why? They're profitable," Old Mike challenged.
"Ha! Who told you that?" Sean shook his head dismissively. "Don't confuse the views of those on top of skyscrapers with reality. Drugs carry high risks and low profits. No one on the rich list got there by selling drugs. Those involved are often desperate, resorting to it when they lack other options. Honestly, I see drugs as less valuable than the trash in the bin outside—do you believe that?"
Old Mike glanced at the trash can outside and shook his head. "I don't believe it."
"Stick with me, and you'll see—drugs are not worth as much as you think." Sean didn't bother to elaborate on the profitability of the 'garbage recycling' industry.
"Okay, I'm your boss now," Sean asserted, reaching out to shake Old Mike's hand firmly.
"Alright, boss," Old Mike replied blankly. "What's my first task?"
"First, reconnect with your informants in the gangs. Let me know about any potential trouble, and based on your experience, advise me, if necessary," Sean instructed.
Old Mike nodded thoughtfully before adding, "I think the most important thing for you right now is to play golf with Director Wells King."
"Newark's police chief?" Sean frowned, intrigued.
"Yes. Every Tuesday afternoon, Wells King plays at the golf course next to the Hilton. Today is Monday, so you'd better find a way to connect with him tomorrow. He's been in charge for 15 years, outlasting several mayors. He has a vast network in Essex County's legal system and has maintained close ties with the county attorney and judges."
"If you can't manage Wells, you won't be able to establish yourself in Newark," Old Mike added, making his value clear right from the start.
"So, how did Salamanca manage to get on his good side?" Sean asked.
"Could be money, could be a woman, or maybe something else entirely. Who knows?" Old Mike shrugged.
"Got it," Sean nodded. "Does Salamanca have any other influence in Newark?"
"You don't need to worry about that too much. Their remaining power is mostly in New York, but its location is still a mystery. Right now, we can only wait for them to reveal themselves. Also, keep an eye on who's backing Salamanca from behind the scenes," Old Mike advised.
Sean leaned back in his chair, considering Old Mike's words. "I'll need to gather as much information as possible. Let's start with the gangs and see where that leads us."
Old Mike nodded in agreement. "I'll reach out to my contacts and see what I can find. Just remember, trust is earned, and things can get dicey in this line of work."
Sean smiled, appreciating Old Mike's perspective. "I understand. Just keep me in the loop, and let's make sure we stay ahead of the game."
As they finished their coffee, Sean felt a renewed sense of purpose. With Old Mike's knowledge and connections, he was ready to navigate the complexities of Newark's underworld and solidify his position in the city.