Chapter 3 - MIDNIGHT IN PILSEN
Dr. Chen said no.
The night nurse said no.
Alina said absolutely not.
Marco said nothing, which meant he was considering how to do it.
I respected that.
“I’m leaving this room.”
Dr. Chen folded her arms.
“You can barely sit unsupported for forty-three seconds.”
“I have a chair.”
“You have blood pressure instability, surgical wounds, and an incomplete spinal cord injury.”
“I also have midnight plans.”
“You have terrible judgment.”
Alina nodded.
“Strongly.”
I looked at her.
“Helpful.”
“No.”
Dr. Chen stared at Marco.
“If he leaves and something happens medically—”
“I’ll bring medical support.”
“No.”
“Private ambulance.”
“No.”
“Doctor.”
“I am the doctor.”
“Then come.”
The room went silent.
I had made many people angry.
Dr. Naomi Chen became impressive when angry.
“You think rehab medicine is an accessory to organized crime?”
“No.”
“Then stop treating your body like another employee.”
That landed.
I hated it.
She continued:
“You do not own recovery.”
I looked away.
Maybe.
Then Alina said:
“We don’t need him physically at church.”
I turned.
“What?”
“We need Salvatore to think he has no option except use me.”
“No.”
She ignored me.
“Marco can feed false movement. Make them believe I left alone.”
“No.”
“You’re very repetitive.”
“Because your plan is bad.”
“It’s safer than transporting you eight hours after waking.”
“Eleven days.”
“You were unconscious ten and a half.”
“Details.”
Marco finally spoke.
“She’s right.”
I looked at him.
“Both of you leave.”
Neither did.
Alina held up her phone.
“The message is bait. They expect emotional response.”
“Yes.”
“So we give them one.”
“What?”
“You.”
I stared.
“Video.”
Marco understood.
“Live call from church.”
“They think Luca is still hospital.”
“Yes.”
“Alina arrives. They demand whatever. She says Luca wants proof Massimo alive.”
“Then video me.”
I hated it.
Because it could work.
“What if they grab her?”
Marco said:
“My people perimeter.”
“No.”
“What?”
“If Salvatore has someone inside organization, your people may be his.”
Silence.
True.
Alina said:
“Federal.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Massimo’s list includes federal contacts.”
“Some compromised. Not all.”
“How know?”
“We don’t.”
She smiled without humor.
“That phrase again.”
I looked at Dr. Chen.
“What do you think?”
She stared.
“About federal corruption?”
“About whether my blood pressure survives anger.”
“Probably not.”
“Good.”
“Do not encourage him,” Alina said.
We compromised.
I hated compromise.
Marco contacted one retired detective he trusted outside organized-crime units, Rosa Medina.
Alina had used her once during corporate-fraud work.
Two independent former officers.
No Carbone crews inside church.
Marco himself went with Alina but stayed hidden.
I remained in hospital.
At 11:58, Alina entered the abandoned church wearing a wire taped beneath her blouse and a small camera hidden in a coat button.
I watched live on an encrypted tablet.
Marco’s voice came through the earpiece.
“Two men visible.”
“Salvatore?”
“No.”
Alina walked down the aisle.
Broken pews.
Dust.
No heat.
At the altar stood Gabriel Russo.
My security chief.
I stopped breathing.
Gabriel had been with me eight years.
Managed routes.
Convoys.
Cameras.
Of course.
He looked at Alina.
“You came.”
She stopped twenty feet away.
“You sent the text?”
“No.”
He smiled.
“Mr. Greco did.”
“Where is he?”
“Busy.”
“Massimo?”
Gabriel’s face changed slightly.
“Alive.”
Marco whispered a curse from his position.
Alina said:
“Proof.”
Gabriel held up his phone.
Video.
Massimo Vitelli tied to a chair.
Older.
Bruised.
Alive.
Marco made a sound through comms.
I leaned toward the screen.
Massimo looked into the camera.
“If Marco sees this, tell him he still owes me a boat.”
Marco laughed once and almost cried.
Alive.
Gabriel put the phone away.
“Your turn.”
“I don’t have the list.”
“We know.”
“Then why me?”
“Because Luca listens to you.”
My jaw tightened.
Alina said:
“Barely.”
Good.
Gabriel almost smiled.
“You convinced him to open books.”
“I convinced him nothing.”
“You found the forty million.”
“Yes.”
“You made him question Salvatore.”
“He had questions before me.”
“Not enough.”
Alina looked around.
“What do you want Luca to do?”
“Transfer Legacy Trust voting rights.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
“To Salvatore?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“To me.”
I stared.
Marco whispered:
“What the hell?”
Gabriel continued:
“Greco is finished.”
Alina’s face stayed neutral.
“Does he know?”
“No.”
There it was.
Not one conspiracy.
Multiple.
“Then why use his name?”
“Because fear is useful.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“I sold the route.”
My hand clenched around the tablet.
Alina did not move.
“You admit it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Luca was supposed to die.”
My heart went cold.
Marco breathed:
“Stay put.”
As if I could go anywhere.
Alina asked:
“Who paid?”
“Northline.”
“Salvatore’s trust.”
“His trust. My plan.”
So Gabriel used Salvatore’s infrastructure.
“Why kill Luca?”
“Because he was about to dismantle the port arrangement.”
I frowned.
“What arrangement?”
Alina asked for me.
Gabriel laughed.
“He didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“Luca discovered missing containers.”
I stared.
Did I?
Memory before the ambush.
A meeting.
Port manifests.
I had ordered an internal audit.
Yes.
Not because of trafficking.
Cargo losses.
Gabriel continued:
“His father’s old system moved unregistered cargo through three terminals.”
“What cargo?”
“Cash. electronics. restricted goods.”
“People?”
Gabriel’s face tightened.
“No.”
Maybe true.
“Luca was shutting it down.”
I remembered.
I had told Salvatore three weeks before the attack:
No more ghost containers.
He argued.
I refused.
Then Lower Wacker.
“Salvatore ordered the hit?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“I did.”
The simplicity was worse.
“Why?”
“Because if the ghost route closed, everyone tied to old accounts got exposed.”
“You.”
“Yes.”
“Marco?”
“No.”
“Massimo?”
“Once.”
Marco froze.
His father involved.
Gabriel continued:
“Salvatore?”
“Yes.”
“Victor Dane?”
“Some.”
“Tony Bell?”
“Yes.”
Missing man.
Maybe dead.
Alina asked:
“What does Massimo’s list change?”
“It proves every payment.”
“Then why not kill him?”
“Because the key is biometric.”
Another biometric key.
Of course.
“What does he unlock?”
“Archive.”
“Where?”
Gabriel smiled.
“Not for you.”
Alina said:
“Then you wasted my night.”
She turned.
Bold.
Too bold.
Gabriel grabbed her arm.
My body reacted before my body could.
I tried to stand.
Nothing.
Rage.
Helplessness.
Marco whispered:
“Hold.”
Alina looked at Gabriel’s hand.
“Let go.”
He did not.
Then she said:
“Luca is watching.”
Gabriel froze.
She opened her coat enough to show the camera.
He stared into it.
At me.
I lifted my phone.
“Hello, Gabriel.”
His face changed.
Good.
I continued:
“You missed.”
He smiled slowly.
“You woke.”
“Unfortunately for you.”
“You can’t walk.”
The sentence hit.
He wanted it to.
I smiled.
“And you still needed a five-foot-seven accountant to reach me.”
Alina muttered:
“Finally accurate.”
Even Gabriel looked confused.
Good.
I continued:
“Massimo alive?”
“For now.”
“Give him to Marco.”
“No.”
“Then the deal ends.”
“What deal?”
“The one you’re about to make.”
Gabriel laughed.
“You have nothing I need except a signature.”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Salvatore.”
His face changed.
There.
“Greco doesn’t know you betrayed him.”
“No.”
“He will.”
“You’d tell him?”
“Yes.”
“He may be the one who crippled you.”
“No.”
“Confident?”
“Not remotely.”
Alina smiled slightly.
I continued:
“But he hates thieves more than enemies.”
True.
“Transfer Massimo. Give us Tony Bell if he’s alive. Give route files. In return, I do not call Salvatore for one hour.”
Marco whispered:
“What are you doing?”
Buying time.
Gabriel thought.
“One hour?”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“Then you run.”
Alina looked at the camera like I was insane.
Probably.
Gabriel released her arm.
“Massimo first.”
He sent location.
Warehouse twenty minutes away.
Marco forwarded it to Medina’s team.
“Tony?”
“Alive.”
“Where?”
“Same.”
“Files?”
“After transfer.”
“No.”
“Luca.”
“Now.”
Gabriel stared into the camera.
Then pulled a drive from his pocket.
Placed it on a pew.
Alina did not touch it yet.
“Copy?”
“Yes.”
“Original?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He frowned.
“Why good?”
“Because if the original left your control, you would have no reason to cooperate.”
He almost smiled.
“You learned from your father.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I learned what not to.”
That wiped the smile away.
Sirens sounded faintly.
Not ours?
Gabriel turned.
“What did you do?”
Alina looked at me through camera.
I said:
“Nothing.”
Marco whispered:
“Medina didn’t call uniforms.”
Then the church side door opened.
Salvatore Greco entered.
Seventy.
Silver hair.
Black overcoat.
My godfather.
Two men behind him.
Gabriel went white.
“You.”
Salvatore looked at him.
“You used my name.”
Not angry.
Worse.
Disappointed.
Gabriel reached for his gun.
Alina moved behind a pew.
Marco emerged.
Weapons came up.
I watched through the screen unable to move one inch.
“Stop.”
My voice came through Alina’s speaker.
Nobody listened.
I shouted:
“Salvatore!”
He looked toward the camera.
“Luca.”
“Massimo alive. Tony alive. Gabriel has files.”
Salvatore’s eyes narrowed.
“You believe him?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Do not shoot him.”
Gabriel laughed nervously.
“He can’t order you anymore.”
Salvatore looked at him.
“He never could.”
Then at the camera.
“But he can ask.”
That mattered.
Maybe.
Salvatore lowered his weapon.
His men followed.
Marco did too.
Gabriel remained armed.
Alina said:
“Put it down.”
He looked at her.
Then me.
Then Salvatore.
He understood.
No exit.
He set the gun on a pew.
Medina entered with retired officers and one trusted federal liaison Alina had chosen at the last minute.
Gabriel was taken.
No bullets.
No bodies.
For once.
Salvatore remained.
He picked up the drive and handed it to Alina.
“Bring this to Luca.”
She stared.
“You could destroy it.”
“Yes.”
“Why not?”
He looked into the camera.
“Because I am tired of inheriting Antonio’s sins.”
I did not trust him.
But I believed he was tired.
Maybe enough for one night.
Then Marco’s phone buzzed.
Massimo found.
Alive.
Tony Bell found.
Alive but injured.
Gabriel had been telling the truth about that.
Not everything.
Probably never everything.
Alina looked into the camera.
“We’re coming back.”
I looked at the wheelchair.
Still beside my bed.
I had not gone to church.
I had done nothing physical.
And yet Gabriel was in custody, Massimo was alive, and the drive was coming to me.
Maybe helpless and powerless were not the same word.
I had confused them all my life.
Then Salvatore said something before the camera cut.
“Luca.”
“Yes?”
“Your father left one order in case you survived a betrayal from inside.”
My chest tightened.
“What order?”
Salvatore looked almost sad.
“Kill Marco Vitelli.”
Marco froze.
So did I.
“What?”
Salvatore continued:
“Antonio believed Massimo would eventually turn his son against you.”
The screen went silent.
Marco stared at the camera.
My oldest friend.
His father alive.
May you like
My father’s order hanging between us thirteen years after being written.
And suddenly surviving the ambush seemed like the easy part.
