Chapter 5 - THE SYNDICATE MEETING
At eleven fifteen, Declan called a meeting.
Not at a warehouse.
Not in a basement.
In a private event room above a twenty-four-hour bakery owned by his aunt.
Tatum found this deeply confusing.
“The Morrow Collective meets over cannoli?”
Celia signed while smiling.
Best cannoli in city.
Declan looked offended.
Tatum almost laughed.
Then the men began arriving.
Twelve in total.
Older.
Younger.
Some dressed like attorneys.
Others like contractors.
One looked like somebody’s high school basketball coach.
Tatum had expected obvious criminals.
Instead she saw the same thing she had seen in corporate offices during the short year she worked payroll before Maya was born.
People who could disappear into ordinary life.
Declan stood at the head of the room.
Celia to his right.
Ellis to his left.
Tatum remained near the back.
Declan signed.
Celia voiced.
“There is a leak inside this organization.”
Every face changed differently.
That was what Tatum watched.
Not who looked guilty.
People were smarter than that.
She watched who looked at whom.
A man named Gerard Pike glanced toward Ellis.
A younger man named Sean Morrow looked toward the door.
A heavyset man with silver hair stared only at Declan.
His name was Martin Shaw.
Declan’s uncle by marriage.
According to Celia, he had handled port security for nineteen years.
Declan continued.
“Last night, someone knew where I would be, who would be with me, and which room had been prepared.”
Martin spoke.
“How do we know Briggs didn’t watch you?”
Celia interpreted for Declan.
He answered.
“Because my route changed twenty minutes before arrival.”
Silence.
Only six people knew.
Martin.
Ellis.
Celia.
Two drivers.
And Declan.
Tatum watched.
One driver looked frightened.
The other looked insulted.
Martin looked bored.
Declan signed.
“Someone also accessed a private background file on Tatum Reed.”
Tatum felt every eye turn.
She hated it.
Martin’s expression changed.
“Why would we have a background file on a waitress?”
Tatum looked at Declan.
Good question.
Declan did not avoid it.
He signed:
Because after she warned me about the bottle, I ordered one.
Tatum stared.
“You did what?”
Every man in the room heard the anger.
Declan looked at her.
His hands rose.
I should have asked.
“You think?”
I am sorry.
The room became even quieter.
Apparently Declan Morrow apologizing publicly was more shocking than an internal traitor.
Martin laughed.
“This is absurd.”
Declan turned.
Martin continued.
“You’re apologizing to a waitress while Briggs holds a man at gunpoint?”
Tatum’s temper snapped.
“She has a name.”
Martin looked at her.
“I know your name.”
“Then use it.”
His mouth tightened.
“You are not part of this.”
“Apparently my father died because of it.”
That changed the room.
Declan looked at her.
Tatum took out the transcript they had made from Thomas’s cassette.
“Thomas Reed.”
Several men reacted.
Martin did not.
That was interesting.
Too controlled.
Tatum continued.
“My father identified Gianni Delvecio, Jonah Briggs, Judge Mercer, and an unnamed source inside the Morrow organization.”
Martin leaned back.
“Convenient.”
“Yes.”
She smiled thinly.
“For you especially.”
His eyes hardened.
“Careful.”
Declan stepped forward.
Martin looked at him.
Declan signed one sentence.
Celia did not voice it.
Tatum understood.
Do not threaten her again.
Martin’s face changed.
So he understood some sign too.
Interesting.
“How much do you know?” Tatum asked him.
He looked at her.
“About what?”
“ASL.”
“Enough.”
“Where did you learn?”
“Family.”
Declan’s eyes narrowed.
Celia signed:
He never learned with us.
Martin looked irritated.
“My wife taught me some.”
Celia shook her head.
She didn’t know enough.
The room shifted.
Tatum’s pulse quickened.
“How much did you understand last night if you were watching the recording?”
Martin stood.
“Excuse me?”
“The camera at Delvecio’s.”
He laughed.
“You think I planted it?”
“I think Briggs wanted a spectacle.”
She stepped closer.
“And somebody wanted more.”
Declan watched her.
Tatum’s mind moved through numbers.
Not money.
Variables.
Briggs had sent a hearing server?
No.
He had sent Tatum specifically.
He assumed she could not communicate.
But whoever selected her should have known her mother had been an interpreter if they had deep background access.
Unless that was the point.
Maybe the setup had not been to humiliate Declan.
Maybe it had been to force Tatum to reveal she could sign.
To identify her.
To confirm Thomas Reed’s daughter had inherited access to something.
Tatum stopped.
“Oh.”
Declan signed:
What?
She looked at him.
The mockery was cover.
For what?
“To see whether I could communicate with you.”
Martin went very still.
Tatum saw it.
There.
Tiny.
But real.
She turned.
“They wanted to know whether I could tell you about the bottle without speaking.”
Martin reached inside his jacket.
Ellis moved first.
Gun out.
Declan did not flinch.
Neither did Celia.
Martin’s hand stopped.
“Take it out slowly,” Ellis said.
Martin removed a phone.
He set it on the table.
“Everyone’s jumpy.”
Tatum looked at the screen.
A message preview appeared.
MIDNIGHT. BRING THE GIRL.
No sender name.
Martin grabbed for the phone.
Declan was faster.
He took it.
Martin swore.
The room exploded into motion.
Two men moved toward Martin.
Another blocked the door.
Declan read the message.
Then looked at his uncle.
His face became terrifyingly empty.
Martin lifted both hands.
“You don’t understand.”
Declan signed.
Then explain.
Martin looked around.
“The old arrangement kept peace.”
Celia voiced sharply.
“What arrangement?”
“Briggs. Delvecio. Morrow. Nobody touched families. Nobody touched schools. Nobody brought heat to the waterfront.”
Tatum laughed.
“My father died.”
Martin looked at her.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Every person in the room went silent.
Tatum felt something inside her become still.
Not rage.
Clarity.
“What did you do?”
Martin’s face changed.
“I gave Gianni Thomas’s route.”
Celia whispered, “Oh God.”
Declan’s hands curled into fists.
Martin looked at him.
“I was twenty-nine. Your father was going to start a war over invoices. I thought if Gianni scared the city man, the problem ended.”
“You gave them my father’s route.”
“Yes.”
“And he died.”
“I didn’t order that.”
Tatum stepped toward him.
Declan reached out.
Stopped before touching her.
She saw the question.
She nodded.
He placed one hand lightly against her arm.
Grounding.
Not restraining.
Martin continued.
“After Thomas died, Malcolm made me swear to help find proof. I did.”
“While hiding your part.”
“Yes.”
“Then eight years passed.”
“Yes.”
Tatum looked at the message.
“Why now?”
Martin’s face tightened.
“Briggs found out Thomas left evidence.”
“How?”
“Victor.”
Of course.
“Victor was drunk. Told Briggs last year there was a key under a table.”
Yousef’s key.
“But Victor didn’t know what it opened.”
“What does it open?”
Martin shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Declan signed.
Why Maya?
Martin’s face changed.
“I didn’t know about that.”
“Liar,” Tatum said.
“I swear.”
Declan watched him.
Tatum believed Martin.
Again, fear had a texture.
Martin’s guilt was old.
The threat to Maya felt newer.
Someone else.
The organization had not one leak.
It had layers.
Tatum looked around the table and finally understood why the room had become so quiet.
It was not because Declan was feared.
It was because Martin had admitted that the mythology holding the syndicate together had always contained a lie.
Men who could tolerate crimes committed against outsiders looked genuinely shaken by betrayal inside their own circle.
Tatum found the hypocrisy almost comforting in its predictability.
She leaned toward Celia.
“Powerful men are very sensitive.”
Celia signed:
Extremely.
Declan saw them.
What?
Tatum smiled sweetly.
Nothing.
He narrowed his eyes.
Then his phone buzzed.
Declan’s phone buzzed.
A video call.
Briggs.
Celia connected it to the room screen.
Yousef appeared tied to a chair inside Delvecio’s private room.
Briggs stood behind him.
“Midnight came early.”
Declan signed.
Celia voiced.
“Release him.”
Briggs smiled.
“Bring Tatum.”
“No.”
The word came from Tatum.
Briggs looked toward the camera.
“There she is.”
“What do you want?”
“The key.”
“I don’t have it.”
“I know.”
Briggs bent down.
Lifted one corner of the private-room table.
A brass key had been taped beneath it.
He smiled.
“I do.”
Tatum stared.
“Then why do you need me?”
His smile widened.
“Because the key opens a deposit box registered to Thomas Reed.”
Her heart stopped.
“And the bank requires family verification.”
Declan stepped forward.
Briggs laughed.
“Relax, Morrow.”
Then his face hardened.
“This isn’t about your girlfriend.”
Tatum and Declan both froze.
Celia looked between them.
Ellis suddenly became interested in the wall.
Briggs noticed.
“Oh, that’s funny.”
Tatum signed to Declan without looking away from the screen.
Do not.
His eyebrows lifted.
Do not what?
She nearly smiled despite herself.
Briggs continued.
“Midtown Federal. Nine a.m. tomorrow.”
He held up the key.
“Tatum opens the box.”
“And Yousef?”
“Lives if everyone behaves.”
The call ended.
Silence.
Then Martin looked at Declan.
“Your girlfriend?”
Tatum turned.
“She is not—”
Declan signed at the exact same time.
Not yet.
Celia burst out laughing.
Even Ellis looked shocked.
Tatum stared at Declan.
His face remained completely serious.
Heat climbed her neck.
“This is not funny.”
Declan signed:
Agreed.
“You just said not yet.”
He nodded.
“That implies future intent.”
Another nod.
The entire syndicate was watching.
Tatum wanted the floor to open.
Instead she lifted her chin.
“Are you always this impossible?”
Declan’s answer came without hesitation.
Only when nervous.
That silenced everyone again.
May you like
Not because he was a crime boss.
Because Declan Morrow had just admitted, in front of the most dangerous men in the city, that Tatum Reed made him nervous.
