“And?”
Albert finally raised his eyes. Cold. Gray. Like dirty ocean water.
Tommy smirked, turned, and walked out into the humid Vice City night.
“You’re late, Vercetti.”
“What’s my end?”
He slid a thick envelope across the desk.
“Good. That’s why I don’t hire soldiers. I hire butchers who can count.” Gta Vice City Alberttanjh
“He’s feeding the fish off the pier.”
A long pause. Then Albert smiled — no warmth, just a slow curl of the lips.
“I was tying up a loose end. One of your couriers tried to skim.” “And
Outside, a police siren wailed past. Neither man flinched.
“Three shipments. Cuban buyers. They don’t know the cash is washed through your printing press yet. Keep it that way.”
Albert leaned back. The neon from outside painted his face in pink and blue. Like dirty ocean water
Tommy picked up the envelope. Didn’t open it.
Tommy Vercetti shoved the fire door open with his shoulder. Inside the cramped office, Albert Tanjh sat behind a glass desk, not looking up from his leather-bound ledger.