The Rise of Mackin Jones

Chapter 26

The following days were a whirlwind of carefully orchestrated moves. Lambo had wasted no time in digging up dirt on Detective Morales, and the information they uncovered was as damning as Mackin had hoped.

Morales wasn’t just dirty; he was neck-deep in corruption. He had taken bribes from several criminal organisations over the years, and it seemed Victor was only the latest in a long line of shady partnerships.

Mackin sat in his office, reviewing the dossier Lambo had compiled on Morales. It was a thick file, filled with everything from financial records to photos of Morales meeting with known criminals.

It was more than enough to destroy Morales’ career—and possibly land him in prison. But Mackin wasn’t interested in simply taking Morales down. He wanted to use this information to turn Morales into a weapon against Victor.

Lambo entered the office, his expression tense but focused. "We’ve got enough to bury Morales," he said, dropping another stack of papers on Mackin’s desk. "The guy’s been taking bribes for years, and we’ve got the proof. But there’s more. It turns out he’s got a gambling problem. He’s deep in debt, and he’s been using the money from Victor to cover his losses."

Mackin leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he considered the possibilities. "So Morales is desperate. That makes him vulnerable."

Lambo nodded. "Exactly. If we approach him the right way, we can flip him. Make him work for us instead of Victor."

Mackin’s mind raced, formulating a plan. "We need to be careful. Morales is dangerous, and if he thinks we’re onto him, he could go to Victor or the authorities to cover his tracks. We can’t let him know we have this information until we’re ready to use it."

Lambo crossed his arms, his gaze steady. "I’ve already put some feelers out. We’ve got someone on the inside who can set up a meeting with Morales. If we play this right, we can bring him in without raising any alarms."

Mackin nodded, his resolve hardening. "Do it. Set the meeting."

As Lambo left the room, Mackin’s thoughts turned back to Victor. He was certain that Victor had no idea how close he was to losing everything. Morales was his key to undermining Mackin’s efforts to legitimise the family, but if Mackin could turn Morales against him, the entire plan would fall apart.

And once Morales was under his control, Mackin could use him to take Victor down.

Two nights later, the meeting with Morales was set.

It took place in a dimly lit restaurant on the outskirts of the city—a place where people who didn’t want to be seen went to do their dirty business. Mackin had chosen the location carefully, knowing that Morales would be more comfortable in a place where discretion was guaranteed.

The restaurant was quiet, the patrons keeping to themselves in private booths, lost in their own conversations.

Mackin sat at a table near the back, his gaze fixed on the entrance. He wore a black suit, his demeanour calm but watchful. He had come alone, though Lambo and a few of his men were stationed nearby, ready to intervene if things went sideways. This wasn’t a confrontation Mackin could afford to lose.

Morales arrived a few minutes late, looking every bit the desperate man Lambo had described. His face was gaunt, his eyes sunken with sleepless nights and too many bad decisions. He scanned the restaurant nervously before spotting Mackin and making his way over to the table.

As Morales sat down, Mackin studied him carefully, noting the slight tremor in his hands and the beads of sweat on his forehead. The man was on edge, clearly aware that he was in over his head.

"Detective Morales," Mackin said evenly, his tone polite but firm. "Thank you for meeting with me."

Morales shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing around as if expecting someone to be watching. "I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?" he muttered, his voice low and strained. "What do you want, Jones?"

Mackin leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving Morales. "I want to make you an offer. One that could save your career—and your life."

Morales snorted, though there was no humour in it. "Save my life? What, are you going to take me out like the others if I don’t cooperate?"

Mackin’s eyes darkened. "No, Morales. I’m not here to threaten you. I’m here to offer you a way out. I know about your debts and your gambling problem. I know about the bribes you’ve taken—especially from Victor. And I know that if the authorities get wind of any of it, you’ll be finished."

Morales paled, his breath catching in his throat. "What... what do you mean, you know?"

Mackin slid the dossier across the table, letting the thick file rest in front of Morales. "I’ve got everything I need to destroy you. But I’m not interested in taking you down, Morales. I’m interested in making a deal."

Morales stared at the dossier, his hands shaking as he reached for it. He flipped through the pages, his face growing paler with every revelation. It was all there—his dirty dealings, his gambling debts, the money he had funnelled through offshore accounts. Mackin had him cornered, and he knew it.

"What do you want from me?" Morales asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Mackin leaned back in his chair, his expression cold and calculating. "It’s simple. You cut ties with Victor. You stop feeding him information, and instead, you start feeding him false leads. Make him think he’s winning, while I take him down from the inside."

Morales swallowed hard, his eyes wide with fear. "And if I refuse?"

Mackin’s lips curled into a faint smile. "Then your career—and your life—are over. It’s that simple."

Morales stared at him for a long moment, his mind clearly racing with the weight of the decision before him. He was trapped, and he knew it. If he continued working with Victor, he would eventually be exposed. But if he turned on Victor, he would be putting himself in even greater danger.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Morales let out a shaky breath. "Fine," he said, his voice filled with defeat. "I’ll do it."

Mackin nodded, satisfied. "Good. You’ll report to Lambo from now on. We’ll guide you through what you need to tell Victor and ensure you don’t slip up. You follow our instructions to the letter, Morales, and you might just walk away from this with your life intact. But cross me, and you won’t have to worry about Victor—or the law."

Morales wiped his sweaty forehead, his hand trembling as he pocketed the dossier. His eyes darted around the room again, filled with a mixture of fear and resignation. "I’ll do what you ask, Jones. Just... make sure you protect me. Victor’s not going to take this lying down if he finds out."

Mackin’s voice was calm but laced with cold certainty. "He won’t find out unless you give him a reason to. Stay the course, and you’ll be fine."

Morales gave a weak nod before rising from the table. He didn’t bother to say goodbye, leaving the restaurant in hurried steps, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world had been placed on him. Mackin watched him leave, his expression unreadable.

Once Morales was gone, Lambo appeared from the shadows of the restaurant, slipping into the seat Morales had vacated. He leaned back in the chair, watching Mackin carefully.

"Think he’ll stick to the plan?" Lambo asked, his voice low.

Mackin shrugged, his gaze still on the door Morales had exited through. "He doesn’t have a choice. He’s a man with no options left. That makes him dangerous, but it also makes him predictable. He’ll do whatever it takes to survive."

Lambo nodded, satisfied. "We’ll keep a close watch on him. If Victor starts to suspect something, we’ll know."

Mackin exhaled slowly, his mind already shifting to the next step. "Good. We can’t afford any mistakes now. Victor’s running out of time, but he’s not finished yet. We need to push him into a corner without him realising it. If we play this right, we’ll have him exactly where we want him."

Lambo gave a grim smile, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Victor won’t see it coming."

The days that followed were tense but calculated. Morales had begun feeding Victor the false information Mackin and Lambo had carefully crafted, creating the illusion that Victor’s plans were working. Victor, unaware that his trusted contact was now a double agent, grew bolder and more reckless. He continued to make moves behind the scenes, confident that Mackin’s leadership was faltering.

But Mackin was ready. Every step Victor took brought him closer to a trap, one that Mackin had been laying since the moment he returned to the family. It was a delicate balance—feeding Victor just enough rope to hang himself without raising suspicion.

By the end of the week, Victor had arranged a secret meeting with several of his old allies, a group of powerful men who had thrived under Bruno’s reign. The meeting was set to take place in a private mansion on the outskirts of the city, a secluded location that Victor believed would shield him from prying eyes.

But Mackin had eyes everywhere.

The night of the meeting was heavy with tension. Mackin, dressed in his usual sharp black suit, sat in the back seat of his car as it wound through the dark streets towards the mansion. Lambo sat beside him, quiet but alert. They both knew what was at stake tonight. If Victor’s plans weren’t stopped here, things could escalate beyond control.

"This is it," Lambo said quietly, his eyes scanning the road ahead. "We’ve got Morales feeding him the last piece of false intelligence. Once Victor walks into that meeting, it’s over."

Mackin nodded, his jaw tight. "Make sure our men are in place. I want to know the moment Victor steps through those doors. We’re shutting this down tonight."

Lambo tapped his phone, sending a quick message to the team already stationed at the mansion. "They’re ready. We’ve got eyes on the place, and Morales has done his part."

Mackin’s heart pounded in his chest, but his mind was clear and focused. He had waited for this moment for weeks, biding his time, playing the long game. Now, it was time to act.

The car pulled to a stop a few blocks from the mansion, hidden in the shadows of a quiet street. Mackin and Lambo stepped out, their footsteps silent on the wet pavement. A light drizzle had begun to fall, adding a layer of quiet urgency to the night. They moved quickly but cautiously, keeping to the darkness as they approached the mansion from a distance.

Through the large windows, Mackin could see the silhouettes of men inside—Victor’s allies, gathered around a long table in the mansion’s grand dining room. Victor stood at the head of the table, his arms raised as he addressed the group. Even from a distance, Mackin could feel the energy in the room—the tension, the anticipation of a power shift.

"This is it," Lambo muttered under his breath, glancing towards Mackin. "We move in on your signal."

Mackin’s eyes remained fixed on the scene inside, his expression cold and unreadable. "Wait until Victor gives his next command. We need him to incriminate himself. I want him to make the mistake."

Lambo nodded, stepping back into the shadows, where the rest of their team was waiting. Mackin remained in place, watching, waiting. The seconds stretched into minutes, and the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Inside the mansion, Victor was speaking animatedly, his gestures growing more dramatic as he made his case to the gathered men. Mackin couldn’t hear the exact words, but he didn’t need to. He knew Victor well enough to know that he was promising them power, promising them a return to the old ways—the very ways Mackin had been working so hard to dismantle.

Then, Victor’s voice grew louder. He slammed his fist on the table, and the men around him nodded in agreement. This was it. Victor was making his move.

Mackin raised his hand, signalling to Lambo. It was time.

In a matter of seconds, the team moved into action. Lambo led the charge, his men slipping through the back entrance of the mansion with quiet precision. They moved like shadows, unseen and unheard, until they were positioned just outside the dining room where Victor and his allies were gathered.

Mackin followed behind, his heart pounding with anticipation. He moved carefully, keeping to the shadows as he entered the mansion and made his way towards the dining room. He could hear Victor’s voice now, loud and confident, as he outlined his plan to take back control of the family. The men around him nodded in agreement, their eyes filled with greed and ambition.

Mackin stepped into the doorway, his presence unnoticed at first. He stood there, silent, watching as Victor continued his tirade.

"And once Mackin’s out of the picture," Victor was saying, his voice filled with venom, "we’ll take back what’s ours. We’ll go back to the way things were—when this family had real power."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.

"That’s enough," Mackin said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

Victor froze, his eyes widening in shock as he turned to see Mackin standing in the doorway. The men around the table shifted uneasily, glancing between Victor and Mackin with uncertainty.

"Mackin," Victor spat, his face twisting with fury. "What are you doing here?"

Mackin stepped into the room, his eyes locked on Victor. "Stopping you."

Victor sneered, his fists clenched at his sides. "You’re too late. These men—"

"These men are about to realise they’ve made a mistake," Mackin interrupted, his voice cold and authoritative. "You thought you could come in here and take over. You thought you could use Morales, feed me false information, and win this fight. But you were wrong."

Victor’s face paled, his confidence faltering for the first time. "What—"

Mackin held up a hand, silencing him. "I know everything, Victor. Morales has been working for me for weeks. Everything you’ve planned, every move you’ve made, I’ve known about it. And now, it’s over."

The men around the table exchanged nervous glances, their eyes widening as they realised the gravity of the situation.

Victor’s face twisted with rage. "You think you can just walk in here and—"

"I don’t need to walk in here and do anything," Mackin said, his voice calm but deadly. "You’ve already done all the work for me. Your plans, your alliances, everything you’ve built is crumbling. And now, you’re going to pay the price for trying to tear this family apart."

Victor’s mouth opened to retort, but before he could speak, Lambo and the rest of Mackin’s men entered the room, surrounding Victor and his allies. The tension in the room reached a fever pitch, but Mackin remained calm, his eyes never leaving Victor’s.

"It’s over, Victor," Mackin said softly. "You’ve lost."