Chapter 2 - THE COLD LOT BEHIND PRECINCT FOUR
The flashing red and blue lights of the ambulance had long vanished down the winding driveway of the estate.
Paramedics had stabilized Samuel with oxygen and nitroglycerin before transporting him under heavy private escort to Saint Jude Memorial Hospital.
Raymond had left in a convoy of black SUVs, shouting orders into his telephone about hospital security and press control.
Matteo had stayed behind just long enough to watch the estate staff clear the broken china.
Claire had quietly finished her shift, washing the remaining tea service in the industrial basement kitchen.
She clocked out at eleven-fifteen at night.
She walked out through the servants' entrance into the freezing drizzle with an umbrella tucked under her arm.
Her personal car was an old, nondescript gray sedan parked in the gravel lot near the perimeter gate.
She turned the ignition, checked her mirrors twice, and drove toward the city.
She took three unnecessary turns through the commercial warehouse district.
She knew how counter-surveillance worked.
In her rearview mirror, three hundred yards back, a matte-black coupe followed without headlights.
The driver kept his distance using streetlights and building shadows to conceal his front grille.
It was smooth driving.
Professional.
It wasn't Raymond's loud convoy.
It was Matteo.
Claire didn’t panic or speed up.
She took the expressway ramp and drove straight into the downtown district, pulling into a municipal parking lot three blocks behind the Fourth Precinct.
The lot was dark, wet, and nearly empty at midnight.
She parked beneath a flickering halogen lamp beside an unmarked Dodge Charger.
She turned off her engine.
She stepped out into the rain, unbuttoned her heavy overcoat, and opened the trunk of the Dodge.
Inside lay an official black duffel bag.
Claire unzipped it with practiced efficiency.
She removed her navy tactical police jacket with the gold Detective badge pinned over the left breast.
She took out her duty belt, securing her service Glock 19 into its holster.
She fastened her radio, spare magazines, and department credentials around her waist.
A sudden soft click echoed from behind the concrete pillar ten feet away.
Claire’s hand rested on the grip of her weapon instantly.
Her thumb disengaged the holster retention snap.
She didn't turn around immediately.
She looked into the rain-slicked rear window of her car, watching the tall, broad silhouette emerge from the gloom.
Matteo stepped into the yellow pool of halogen light.
His hands were visible, resting casually in the pockets of his black woolen coat.
Rain drops caught in his dark hair.
He looked at the gold badge gleaming against her navy jacket.
Then he looked at her face.
"How long have you been watching my family?" Matteo asked.
His voice was completely steady, devoid of anger, but filled with lethal intensity.
Claire turned around slowly, her hand staying firmly beside her hip.
Her cover was dead, and there was no point in playing the timid servant girl.
"Four months," Claire answered.
Matteo tilted his head slightly, studying the brass nameplate pinned below her badge.
"Detective Bennett."
"That's right."
"You made my grandfather’s tea for four months while carrying a badge in your trunk."
"I don't carry weapons inside an undercover residence without a warrant, Mr. Romano."
"Why are you here?"
"Your grandfather," she replied simply.
Matteo took a single step closer, stopping just outside her personal perimeter.
"You think I want him dead?"
"No," Claire said.
The answer caught him off guard.
His jaw relaxed a fraction of an inch before hardening again.
"Then who?"
"I don't make accusations without physical evidence," Claire said.
"That’s the difference between a police officer and your family."
"Enlighten me, Detective."
"Three months ago, the Organized Crime Task Force received three separate anonymous alerts regarding financial extortion directed at Samuel Romano."
Matteo frowned deeply.
"Extortion? My grandfather built this city. Nobody extorts him."
"Someone has been trying to force him to sign property transfers for the harbor terminals and the downtown commercial trust," Claire explained.
"All three tips indicated that if he refused to sign before his eighty-second birthday, he would be eliminated."
"Who submitted the tips?"
"Unknown," Claire said.
"They came through encrypted burner nodes routed through overseas servers."
"Why didn't you approach him directly?" Matteo asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Because my department believed the threat originated from inside his immediate household."
Silence fell between them, broken only by the hiss of rain on asphalt.
Matteo looked down at the wet concrete.
"He never said a word to me."
"Maybe because he didn't know who he could trust," Claire said gently.
The words struck Matteo visibly.
A flicker of genuine pain passed through his eyes before he masked it with cold composure.
"My grandfather isn't a criminal anymore," Matteo said quietly.
"He buried that life when my father died ten years ago."
"I know," Claire replied.
"That's why I'm here."
Suddenly, the encrypted satellite phone inside Matteo's coat pocket began to chime with a sharp, low-frequency tone.
Matteo pulled it out, glanced at the caller ID, and froze.
The screen displayed the private room extension of Saint Jude Memorial Hospital.
Matteo swiped the screen and brought it to his ear.
"Grandpa?"
The voice on the other end was raspy, wheezing through an oxygen mask, but unmistakably lucid.
"Matteo."
"I'm here, Grandpa. Are you all right? What did the doctors say?"
"I'm alive," Samuel whispered.
"Where are you right now?"
Matteo looked directly into Claire's dark eyes.
"I'm standing in a municipal lot with Claire."
There was a long pause on the line.
Then Samuel let out a dry, rattling chuckle that turned into a cough.
"So you finally caught her, did you?"
Matteo stared at the phone in utter disbelief.
May you like
"You knew she was police?"
"Since week eight," the old man replied.
