Chapter 7 - Scars and Secrets
The old Moretti foundry smelled of rusted iron, engine oil, and decades of river dampness.
Heavy corrugated steel doors sealed the interior from the howling wind outside.
Inside the vast, cavernous warehouse, an old wood-burning stove glowed dull orange in the center of the concrete floor.
Carmela Moretti sat wrapped in a heavy wool blanket near the stove, sipping hot water from a tin cup.
Mrs. Gable rested quietly on a canvas cot in the corner, exhausted from the ordeal.
Anthony stood over a rusted workbench, cleaning the grime from his silver cane with an oily rag.
In the shadows near the loading dock, Sophia sat on a wooden crate.
She had stripped off her soaked tactical vest, revealing a dark gray thermal shirt drenched in sweat and blood.
Luca approached her carrying a bottle of grain alcohol, a roll of sterile gauze, and a needle-and-thread suture kit.
"Take your shirt off," Luca said flatly.
Sophia’s eyes flared with defensive sharpness.
"Excuse me?"
"Your left shoulder is dislocated, Bennett."
"I can pop it back in myself."
"You'll tear the labrum if you do it wrong."
Luca set the medical supplies on an upturned barrel beside her.
"I've set twenty broken bones in my life."
"On your mob enforcers?"
"On dockworkers who got caught under shifting cargo containers."
Sophia hesitated, the throbbing pain in her joint nearly making her vomit.
Slowly, she peeled the left sleeve of her thermal shirt down, exposing her bruised, swollen shoulder.
A hideous purple hematoma spread from her collarbone down to her bicep.
Luca knelt beside her, examining the joint with experienced fingers.
"This wasn't from a fall."
"A carbon-fiber baton," Sophia hissed through her teeth.
"The man who hit you inside Warehouse 42 knew exactly where the nerve cluster was."
"He knew how to incapacitate without killing."
Luca gripped her elbow with one hand and placed his palm firmly over her shoulder blade.
"Breathe in through your nose."
Sophia inhaled deeply.
With a swift, practiced motion, Luca twisted her forearm upward and shoved the humeral head back into its socket.
A sickening pop echoed through the quiet room.
Sophia muffled a scream against the collar of her shirt, her fingernails digging deep into Luca’s forearm.
Tears of pure agony streamed down her face.
"It's back in," Luca said softly, his hand lingering on her trembling arm.
He picked up the bottle of alcohol and poured a generous splash directly over the open gash above her eye.
Sophia sucked air through clenched teeth, her whole body shuddering.
"You're tougher than you looked when you were dusting my library," Luca noted, threading the curved suture needle.
"I had to look soft, Luca."
"Why?"
"Because soft women don't get suspected of reading corporate shipping manifests."
Luca leaned in close, his face inches from hers as he began stitching the laceration on her brow.
Sophia could smell the faint scent of expensive cologne beneath the smell of gunpowder on his skin.
"Who is Eric Mason to you, Sophia?" Luca asked quietly as the needle pierced the skin.
Sophia closed her eyes, trying to focus on anything other than the prick of the needle.
"He was my brother's partner."
"Your brother was on the force?"
"Detective Thomas Bennett."
Luca stopped his hand for a brief moment.
"What happened to him?"
"He drowned in the Hudson River five years ago."
"An accident?"
"Officially, yes."
Sophia opened her eyes, staring into Luca's dark irises.
"They said he lost control of his patrol vehicle during a high-speed pursuit on the West Side Highway."
"And unofficially?"
"He had discovered an off-the-books wiretap inside the chief of detectives' office."
Luca pulled the knot tight and snipped the black thread with a small blade.
"Robert Kane's office."
"Yes."
"And Eric Mason knew?"
"Eric was the one who pulled Thomas's body from the river," Sophia whispered, her voice cracking.
"He swore to me at my brother's funeral that he would watch over me."
"He was grooming you," Luca said coldly.
"He was keeping me close so I wouldn't dig into Thomas's death."
Anthony stepped out of the shadows, his cane tapping softly against the concrete floor.
"Mason was Kane's bagman long before your brother died, young lady."
Sophia turned her head, wincing at the pull of the fresh stitches.
"How long have you known that, Anthony?"
Anthony pulled up an old wooden stool and sat down across from them.
"In nineteen ninety-eight, Eric Mason was a patrol officer in the fifth precinct."
"He was barely twenty-four," Sophia said.
"And he was already collecting envelopes from the illegal casinos in Little Italy," Anthony revealed.
"Kane had a file on Mason's gambling debts."
"He owned him," Luca said.
"Kane owns everybody he works with," Anthony said bitterly.
"That is how he stays in power."
"He finds your weakness, he exploits it, and then he makes you complicit in his crimes."
Anthony reached into his inner pocket and pulled out the tarnished brass safety deposit key.
"That is why he needs this key destroyed."
Sophia looked at the notched brass metal.
"What is written in that ledger, Anthony?"
The old man leaned his elbows on his knees, his weathered face shadowed by the firelight.
"Every bribe Kane took between nineteen ninety-five and two thousand and three."
"Names of other officers?"
"Seventeen current captains and deputy commissioners."
Sophia felt the blood drain from her face.
"Seventeen?"
"Three judges on the state appellate court."
"And two assistant district attorneys."
Luca stared at his father in utter disbelief.
"Dad... that’s not a ledger."
"It's a bomb," Anthony said simply.
"If that book goes public, the entire criminal justice system of this city collapses in twenty-four hours."
"Which is why Kane will burn the entire city to stop you from opening that box," Sophia said.
Luca stood up, pacing the concrete floor with restless energy.
"How do we get into St. Jude’s Depository?"
"The bank is on Wall Street," Sophia said.
"Kane will have every intersection within ten blocks locked down by dawn."
"My face is plastered across every news station in the state," Luca said, checking his phone.
"And they've reported you dead, Sophia."
"That gives us an advantage," Sophia said, her eyes turning cold and analytical.
"They don't expect a corpse to walk into the lobby."
"You can't walk into that bank wearing a bloody thermal shirt and a bruised face, Bennett."
"I don't plan to."
Sophia turned to Anthony.
"Does the safety deposit box require biometric verification?"
"No," Anthony said.
"Nineteen-eighty signature card and dual physical keys."
"Where is the bank's master key?"
"Held by the vault manager on duty."
Sophia looked toward the corner where Mrs. Gable was resting.
"Mrs. Gable has a daughter who works as a concierge at the Plaza Hotel."
Luca looked puzzled.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Her daughter has access to high-end salon wigs and executive wardrobe rentals."
Sophia stood up, testing her newly set shoulder.
The pain was fierce, but the joint held firm.
May you like
"We have four hours until the vault opens."
"Luca, you're going to help me become someone else."
