?Amateurs.?

Mesteno had rarely heard Don Francesco sound so scathing. A distilled vitriol he bottled for those rare occasions he was stirred beyond being wryly amused and into full-blown annoyance. He watched him from where he?d taken up a lean, shoulder blades tucked tight to the wall and arms loosely folded as the images flashed up on the screen. Security camera feedback of harassed business owners, unwarranted violence, Japanese gangs prowling the streets boldly, provocatively prowling taken territory.

The old man was a bulldog; drooping jowls and a short, blunt nose, iron grey hair grown so thin on top it resembled a monk?s tonsure. His eyebrows were thick, black lines, a startling contrast when the rest of him had faded into the grey of senior years. It gave him a severe aspect coupled with flinty eyes, which defied the softness of the pouches beneath the sockets and the sagging chin, the blue-grey shadow of beard he could never entirely erase, despite the close shave of his pearl handled razorblades.

?I?ve seen better work in Lecce, and it?s all kids there.?

It was a familiar rant; the Mafia crimes in Southern Italy were infamously worthy of mockery. Petty theft or squabbles with teenagers as footmen. New blood with no respect for old codes.

The Don?s consigliere leaned to murmur by his ear, and with a scowl of reluctant agreement, the head of the Family turned away from the evidence to face his men. A nod from him and a ready hand reached to flick the lights back on.

They were sat (or stood, in Mesteno?s case) around the enormous block of wood Francesco liked to call a desk, polished to a high, mirror sheen, everything on it perfectly ordered, pristine. He accepted no untidiness, even in those men of his family who served him. Even in the rare outsiders elevated to such high rank as the young, red headed Sadist - a Giovanni d?Onore no less - they must follow his standards.

The old man clasped his hands atop the desk and considered them all in mute malaise. It was often the way of things. Transference. The head of the hierarchy took out his ire on his direct subordinates, and they in turn on their underlings. Today, he surprised them all.

?Mesteno,? he snapped, to a synchronised arch of Italian brows from all around the room.

The outsider straightened, as if a soldier at attention.

?You?ve dealt with these Yakuza types before.? Statement, rather than question. A prompt to share knowledge.

?Years ago. They were harassing Raoul Franchetti. They?d called a truce with Luciana Castello, probably for a healthy pay out and a share of her family?s territory. The Yakitora sisters came to his aid and managed to exert enough influence to lose Castello any Yakuza support though.?

That stirred murmurs from amongst the Don?s men, mostly of disapproval for Castello, some scoffing at the fickle nature of the Yakuza. Making and breaking deals in such a fashion was traditionally a death sentence for the offender in the Italian clans.

?Franchetti, huh?? The Don narrowed his eyes, and the effect was so great as to have them near vanish into the crevasse of loose flesh and drooping lids around them. ?He?s been quiet lately. An old friend of yours, hmm? He told me about you, years ago. Y?were a kid.?

The old man?s memory hadn?t failed him. Mesteno only offered a nod by way of answer. The purpose of the little reminder was not lost on him. The Don had something in mind he wished him to attend to personally, and did not want his sons, his nephews, those linked to him by blood, to be annoyed when he was selected over them to talk to the infamous hit-man. Francesco was skilled in tact.

?These Yakuza boys doin? business on our turf will not be tolerated,? the Don stated bluntly, the sweep of his hand suggesting finality. ?Nothin?. No dealing, no protection rackets, no prostitution rings. They do not just walk into Rhy?Din and get ignored. It?s time to tighten our boundaries. And you, Mesteno,? he flashed his young Lieutenant nicotine stained teeth, ?are going to go and talk to Raoul about these Yakitora sisters. Let?s see if they can work their magic again.?