Chapter 2 - The Audacity of the Spreadsheet
Working for Dante was not an adventure; it was a study in militant bureaucracy and micro-managed extortion rings. Dante demanded weekly audits, precise receipts, and absolute compliance from every capo in the syndicate. Emily appreciated this structure because it made the illegality feel wonderfully mundane.
The intercom buzzed again with a request for maintenance to handle a new rug and trash removal. Emily scheduled it for after lunch and marked her legal pad with a neat check mark for body removal.
The missing three million dollars was not a rounding error, and routing numbers pointed directly to Salvatore Genovese. Sal was one of Dante's oldest capos who had been with the family since before the car bomb and before the freeze.
With IRS auditors due downstairs at the legitimate shipping front in two hours, Emily needed Dante's signature on falsified depreciation assets immediately. She picked up the thick manila folder, smoothed her sensible gray skirt, and prepared to enter the vacuum without knocking.
Inside, the heavy drapes were drawn, Tommy was absent, and Sal Genovese was on his knees weeping silently. Two massive guards flanked Sal while Dante stood by the window with a suppressed nine-millimeter pistol hanging loosely from his hand.
Emily's low heels clicked against the hardwood like gunshots, making the guards twitch toward their holsters. Dante slowly turned with a face carved from cold marble, his dark eyes locking onto hers with dead, hollow hostility.
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"I am in the middle of a personnel issue, Emily," Dante warned in a low rumble that preceded an earthquake.
"I appreciate that," Emily said briskly, stepping around Sal's left knee to avoid scuffing her shoes. "But the IRS is downstairs in two hours, and you won't be able to make payroll on Friday if the dummy accounts get flagged."
