Tony's frustration was visible over the next two days. He's used to enemies he can fight and physically confront. This was different.
I find him at 2 AM in the estate's gym, punching a heavy bag. His knuckles are bloody, and they look like he's been at this for hours.
"This isn't working," he says without stopping.
"What isn't?"
"Hunting someone who's invisible." Punch. "I need a target." Punch. "Someone to fight." Punch.
I catch the bag to stop its swing. "Then we make them visible. We force them out."
"How?" His voice is raw. "How do you force out people who've stayed hidden for thirty years?"
"Same way we forced Morrison. We threaten what they value."
"Which is?"
"Their empire, their legitimate businesses, their reputations." I take his bloodied hands. "Come here."
I led him to a bench, pulled out first aid supplies from the gym's kit, and started cleaning his knuckles.
"You're going to break your hands if you keep this up."
