My Enemy

1

Sarah

The heels of my boots clicked loudly as I walked through the halls of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s main building in Washington, DC.

I had been working as a special agent for the better part of a year. But, thus far, all the assignments I’d been given were pretty standard. Some fraud. Some RICO cases. But I was on the low end of those totem poles. Not much chance to make an impression or establish my mark. Those were things I needed to do and soon.

Time was money, as they say. The sooner I made a splash with the higher-ups, the sooner I could pick up plum assignments, and maybe snag myself a promotion or two along the way.

Guilt stirred in my gut as I thought about all I had left behind in Chicago. And what I dragged to DC . . . It was a risky move coming out here, and sometimes I still felt the need to prove to myself that it was worth it. Rising up through the ranks would help absolve some of that guilt . . . I hoped.

This coming meeting with Deputy Director Hodge was a big one for me. It could direct the track my career would take over the next few years, so I was crossing my fingers and toes and everything else for this to go well.

I’d had little contact with him in the past, but, from what I’d seen and heard, Hodge was a good man: fair, but serious. Taking his role in earnest and expecting nothing but professionalism from his team.

And that’s what I would give him.

I arrived at the office and entered. His assistant was on the phone, but she indicated that I should have a seat. I was a little too amped up to sit down just yet, so I stood. And waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, she put the phone down and looked at me.

You can go in now. He’s expecting you. She gestured toward the door.

Thank you, I said, nodding.

I walked over to the door and knocked.

Come in, I heard a deep voice say, and I entered the office.

The deputy director was in his desk, behind a mountain of paperwork. He was poring over some files when I came in.

Agent Lynch, he said, standing and offering his hand. Good to see you again.

Thank you, sir, I said, shaking his hand. Nice to see you, too.

Sit down, he requested, and this time, I did.

You’re from Chicago, as I understand it. Is that correct? Hodge asked.

Yes, sir. That’s right. Born and raised.

But I’m guessing you haven’t been back in a while?

Correct, yes. I’ve been in DC for a while now, since I finished the academy and was assigned here.

A brief memory of the day I walked across the academy stage flashed through my mind. It was the culmination of hard work, of years of striving to work for the FBI. My family was hesitant about my job choice because of the danger, but growing up in Chicago gave me a thirst for it. I had seen too many things firsthand, and I wanted a chance to help make our city—and now our country—a better place.

He rose from behind his desk and coming around to the front, sitting on the edge.

And when you were there . . . did you ever hear about the Ludovicos?

I almost wanted to snort. Everyone in Chicago knew about the crime family.

Yes, sir. The family was known across the city. I swallowed, unsure of how he would take this. I actually know someone who I’ve heard works for the Ludovicos. We went to high school together. We . . . ah . . . knew each other a little bit.

He folded his arms and his brow furrowed. Who?

Johnny Gianetti is a low-level enforcer for the Ludovicos. Collections, protection, enforcement, things like that. He’s been picked up by Chicago PD a number of times over the years, but nothing has stuck just yet. I kept tabs on my home, and Johnny Gianetti had stuck out to me.

He nodded. That’s good to know. He leveled his gaze on me. Lynch, you understand that what I’m about to tell you is confidential. We are expecting you to keep quiet on this matter.

Of course, sir. Absolutely.

There’s been a lot of chatter lately. Are you familiar with the Mexican cartel and their links to organized crime here in the US?

A little, sir, yes. I know there’s been some . . . disagreements between them recently. Something like a conflict, but not quite a war.

That’s a fair assessment. Word is, the cartel is looking to get some payback on the families up in Chicago, particularly the Ludovicos. They’re the top dogs, running everyone from numbers to prostitution to the black market and . . . primarily . . . narcotics.

Which is where the cartel comes in.

Correct. There’s been a power struggle between the cartel and the Ludovicos over the flow of the drugs into the city lately. And, from what we’ve been hearing, that struggle is about to boil over into a full-on battle for control.

I see, I said, not entirely sure I did.

Well, I had hoped you’d have some insight into the dealings in Chicago. But, given your relationship with Johnny Gianetti⁠—

I don’t think I would characterize it as a relationship, Deputy Director.

—how you characterize it doesn’t matter to me, Agent Lynch. What matters is this: you’re heading to Chicago, making contact with Gianetti, and posing as a new North American distributor for the cartel, looking to broker a new deal between them and the Ludovicos.

I almost blanched at that. It wasn’t common for someone as new as me to work undercover. But if there was a connection to be exploited, we always leaned into it. I was just nervous that this connection was more likely to get me killed than answers.

But, sir, isn’t that⁠—

We feel there’s a chance here to gather intel and take down BOTH groups in one fell swoop. It would be a major victory for the bureau, and the American people. To get these drugs and criminals off the streets. Don’t you agree, Agent?

Jesus, I thought. What was I supposed to say to that?

Yes, sir, of course. Those are excellent goals to bear in mind.

Good, good. We hoped you would see it that way. Needless to say, if things go well, there will be a promotion in the offing for you.

And there it was. The magic words I had been waiting for. But, somehow, they weren’t filling me with the joy I had expected.

That’s . . . wonderful, sir. Thank you for the opportunity. I really appreciate it. I won’t let you or the bureau down.

You have my every confidence, Agent Lynch. Every single one.

2

Johnny

Iwas trying to keep my cool as I went to the meeting, but it wasn’t easy. I had to admit I was pretty excited. This was it. This was the chance I’d been looking for.

I had been working for the Ludovicos for a while now. Mostly low-run stuff; whatever the bosses needed me to do. The stuff the guys who were further up the ladder didn’t want to deal with.

I got it. That was the deal. It was how it worked. Kind of the only way it worked really. Everyone, no matter how much of a badass, had to start from the bottom and work their way up to the top.

Some guys stalled on the way.

Not me.

That wasn’t what would happen on my end. I was gonna make sure my name was known.

Johnny Gianetti.

Capo?

Boss?

Who knew?

I sure as hell was gonna find out. Whatever it took, I was gonna do it.

And this meeting today was gonna be with the Boss of Bosses. Don Ludovico. Head of the whole family.

Dude was a legend. He ruled with an iron fist, expanded the family’s holdings all over Chicago, and made the Ludovicos a force to be reckoned with. It wasn’t an accident he was running the show.

I’d only met him a couple of times, for little things. I was generally too far down the list to warrant his attention.

But . . . he had asked for me.

I didn’t know why yet. I hadn’t asked around. I didn’t want word to get back to him that I was questioning it or making it appear like I didn’t want to meet with him.

I figured this was one of those rare situations where discretion really was the better part of valor. I could be patient. And, in this business, you needed it. You never knew when shit was going down, so you had to wait. And you had to be ready.

The don always met people at the Café Soprano. It was his favorite spot. So that’s where I was heading.

I got there early. In fact, I was never late. The first person to the spot got the advantage to scope out the area, and I never let anyone get the upper hand on me—regardless of who they were.

I opened the door to the café, and walked in. I was gonna make sure the don remembered my name when the time came.

A few of his guys were there. Anthony, his personal bodyguard, in particular. He was always with the don, and was no person to fuck with.

He looked up as I approached the table.

Anthony, I said, nodding.

Johnny, good to see you. Give the don a second, he’s on a call.

No problem at all. Whatever he needs.

That’s how it goes, Anthony said.

Whoever the don was talking to, it wasn’t going well for whoever was on the other end.

"No, you listen to me, I heard him say. This is what’s going to happen. You’re gonna get that shipment to me. On time. If you don’t, you’re gonna get a visit from my people. But it won’t go the way you’d hope. You got me?"

There was a brief pause on the other end.

Good, the don said.

I’m guessing the person he was talking to did indeed, get him. The don hung up and looked at me, waving me over.

Johnny Gianetti, good to see you. Come on over, and have a seat with me.

Thank you, Don Ludovico. Good to see you, as always.

How’s your mother? She doing well?

Yes, sir. She sends her best. She hopes you’ll come over for dinner some night when you’re free.

Tell her it would be my pleasure. Johnny, we’ve had something come up that we think you’d be a perfect fit for.

Anything you need, sir. Point me in the right direction and I’ll be there.

Good, Johnny, good. That’s what we like to hear. Here’s what we know: there’s a new narcotics distributor in town. Someone very good at the job. At least that’s the word on the street. With me, so far?

Yes, sir, I am.

Excellent. He nodded. From what we hear, this distributor is looking to broker a new deal between the cartel and us. Could be an entirely new revenue stream for the family. Potentially worth millions of dollars. How does that sound to you, Johnny?

It sounds pretty damn good, sir, I said.

I couldn’t agree more. Now, you’re probably asking yourself what this has to do with you.

Need me to do some . . . convincing, Don Ludovico?

He laughed then, which surprised me.

So to speak, Johnny. From what we understand, this distributor is a Chicago native. The don assessed me. I need you to get to know her.

Who’s that, sir?

Sarah Lynch.

I blinked. Instantly, the name rang a bell. Set off alarm bells, actually.

Sarah Lynch was the hottest chick in high school. I had a huge crush on her back in the day. We even went out once or twice, but it just didn’t happen for whatever reason. I’d heard she left town when she went to school, but I lost track of her after that. Hadn’t even heard her name in years.

I actually already know her, sir.

Even better. We’re glad to hear that. We want you to make contact with Lynch, figure out what’s what. See if she’s legit, and whether or not we can trust what she’s selling.

Of all the things I thought I was gonna be asked to do, this wasn’t one of them.

Think you can handle that for us, Johnny?

Yes, sir, I absolutely can.

Good man. That’s what we like to hear. Get going. Report back as soon as you learn something valuable.

I turned to go.

And, Johnny? This goes well, you can expect to be given more responsibility in the future. And everything that comes with it.

I nodded.

I won’t let you down, sir.

3

Sarah

It had been so long since I paid Chicago a visit. Everything seemed familiar yet foreign at the same time. And, stupidly enough, I’d forgotten to wear warm clothes.

Has it always been this cold?

I wouldn’t have minded driving all the way from Washington. I could use every bit of time to procrastinate. But Director Hodge had already slid the plane ticket across his table before I even finished my mental debate on whether this promotion was worth the price of my guilt.

Everything for that goddamn promotion, I sighed. It was the ultimate goal—to prove I had made the right choice. I left Chicago and everything I knew behind. I caused problems by coming out to the East Coast. Sometimes I even doubted my decision.

Houses and walls littered with graffiti flew past the cab’s window. I remembered every streetlamp on the sidewalk, and even each alleyway though I was looking straight ahead. The setting sun reminded me of home and the cozy feeling this place used to make me feel.

But this wasn’t my home anymore; there was no home waiting for me here. No bear hug from my mom to welcome me, no teasing from my dad, no nothing. I signaled the driver to turn down the next block and nostalgia instantly gripped me, choking me with guilt.

If only I had spared some time to come home once in a while, they wouldn’t have missed me so much and decided to visit me in Washington. Then they wouldn’t have gotten in the line of fire when the Ludovicos and a rival gang had a heated debacle.

Ludovico. I wanted to see their circle go down with no one left, every family member and subordinate wiped out. This was a far greater and more appealing offer above the promotion I’d receive for completing this assignment. The promotion was just dessert to the real deal.

I tapped the driver, signaling him to stop in front of a quaint, bluish-gray house with wooden stairs leading to a small porch enclosed in an electric blue fence. I saw Anna, my closest cousin from Dad’s side, get up when she noticed the cab.

For whatever reason compelled me to, I’d sent Anna a text notifying her I’d be in Chicago for work before I flew out from Washington. We hadn’t talked in almost six years, but a part of me wanted to see a face I could trust before I threw myself into this assignment. And, perhaps, I wanted someone to know I was back and to take care of my funeral in case I ended up dead in the second week.

Taking my small luggage out was easy, getting myself to take a step forward was difficult. Anna’s house reminded me of my family’s house. The warm smile I could see from across the street wasn’t helping at all. Her resemblance to my dad was uncanny; even the way their eyes crinkled at the corners was similar.

At last, I finally made it to the other side of the street. Anna gave me a tight hug and I found myself smiling. I guess I still had a family to return to in Chicago after all.

It’s been so long, Sarah, Anna mumbled against my shoulder. She was shorter than me by half a head. I have to thank your boss for assigning you here.

I broke away from the hug, giving her a broad smile. There’s no better candidate for the job than the Chicagoan herself.

She chuckled and ushered me inside. I let my eyes roam, and I allowed myself to long for this kind of life for a second: a couch with mismatched cushions in front of the TV, photographs lining the stairs, and the feel of warmth, love, and contentment. I knew right now it wasn’t for me though. I was too ambitious, too career-driven to settle down.

One photo in particular caught my eye. It seemed like it had been taken only recently. Faces of friends I used to know beamed at me from the frame, Johnny Gianetti’s lopsided grin one of them.

He still sported the same mischievous vibe that had charmed me once upon a time. A brief interaction between us tickled my memory. I found myself biting my lip to hold back a smirk.

What are you assigned to do here? Do you think you’ll get some days off? Anna asked while setting down some orange juice and cookies.

I never mentioned to anyone what my line of work was. Aside from the bureau highly discouraging it, we needed to be careful since everything we divulged could be used as leverage, especially family and friends.

Just scouting some potential clients and suppliers for the firm, I said dismissively, taking a seat at the dining table. I’m surprised to see Bev and Johnny in one frame. I pointed at the photo that drew my attention. Never thought they’d get along, I said, trying to get some intel on Johnny.

At this, Anna rolled her eyes. That’s just because Johnny suddenly became handsome and was hot stuff.

It was my turn to roll my eyes. Well, that was something to anticipate, I thought sarcastically. I was definitely looking forward to seeing how the lanky dude from high school grew to become hot, yet could possibly shoot me in the head.

He does look sort of handsome, but maybe it’s just the angle. Do you meet up occasionally? With the people from high school?

"Of course. Each time’s just like back in the day, gossiping and drinking . . . but about