Falcone slept uneasily that night. He had clearly learned of the operation to arrest them through a mole in the police department, ensuring that he would not be caught. Yet for some reason, he still felt deeply unsettled, as though calamity were about to strike.
"Still no word from the men I sent to deal with those two prosecutors? Where the hell did they go?" Falcone angrily hurled his wineglass to the floor and questioned the mobster beside him.
"Not yet. Boss, something feels off. Should I go take a look?" suggested one of Falcone's most trusted men.
After smashing the glass, Falcone calmed down slightly. He was getting old, and he was no longer as steady as he had been in his youth. A few years ago, he would not have so much as frowned even if he watched his own men get riddled with bullets right in front of him. Now, even a minor setback was enough to make him lose his composure.
Neither group had reported back. That was no coincidence. Someone had definitely found out about this and made sure his men did not even have the chance to send a warning. Falcone racked his brains but could not think of any enemy capable of such a thing.
Did the Gotham City police do it? What a joke. Those potbellied idiots would be lucky if they could run away from someone holding a gun. And if it was not the police, who in Gotham City would dare oppose him?
The more he thought about it, the more panicked he became. Falcone felt as if something were watching him from the darkness.
"Don't send anyone else. This place isn't safe anymore. We move immediately," Falcone said cautiously.
This was undoubtedly the right choice. The two groups he