Toby White sat at the desk in the union office overlooking Boston Harbor. He had watched, over the years, as Cormack O’Connell sat in this very spot, looking out at the ships and the shore as though he owned all he could see. And in a sense he had owned it all—at least a piece of all of it. Everything that moved on the shoreline or flowed up through the harbor’s waters owed something to Cormack.

Now, though, it would be Toby’s. Soh had promised him that. Soh had offered him the world, and Toby had taken it, abandoning the loyalty he had once pledged to Cormack for the chance to be boss.

Toby had thought that would make him whole. If he was the boss, it would be as though all of his physical weakness would fade away. No one would see him as a cripple anymore. He would be respected and feared, and the power would flow through him, healing his deformities if not literally, at least figuratively.

And yet, as he sat there, looking out at all that he had been promised and would soon receive, he knew it was an illusion. He could already feel that what he had been promised was a lie. No one would respect him, and to the extent that he would be feared, it would only be because of Soh’s backing, and the threat of what he and his men might do. But Soh’s support could be withdrawn at any time, and if that happened, as it inevitably would, he would be thrown to the sharks without hesitation, and there was no question in his heart that the sharks would devour him. He would never rule over this domain in the way that Cormack had, and it suddenly occurred to him that it wasn’t his physical weakness that would hold him back; his true infirmity ran deeper than flesh and bone. The true defect lay in his soul.

His cell phone buzzed on the desk in front of him, and he looked at it with dread. He considered not answering it. Perhaps he should avoid the illusion and simply walk away from the pretense of power before that pretense was exposed. He wouldn’t, though. The defect in his soul was too powerful.

He picked up the phone. “This is Toby,” he said.

“This is the day.” Soh’s voice was clear and commanding.

“I know.” Toby could hear the contrasting weakness in his own voice. He hated it.

“Everything is set?” Soh asked. “There have been no changes?”

“No changes,” Toby confirmed. “The schedule is still the same.”

“Good,” Soh said. “And O’Connell knows nothing of this?”