Chapter 3 - THE PATRIARCH'S SECRET ALLIANCE
Matteo held the phone away from his ear for a second, staring at it as if it had turned into a venomous snake.
He put the call on speaker.
Claire stepped closer, her police radio crackling softly on her hip.
"Grandpa, explain that right now," Matteo demanded.
"Two months ago, I tripped on the garden terrace," Samuel’s voice came through the speaker, faint but steady.
"The girl ran out before the gardeners did."
Claire remembered that afternoon vividly.
"She caught me before my hip touched the flagstones," Samuel continued.
"Then she called the estate security booth."
"What does that prove?" Matteo asked.
"She gave the location, my vital signs, my level of consciousness, and the required vehicle entry point in twenty-four seconds flat," Samuel said.
"In the exact operational sequence used by state troopers."
"Maids don't speak tactical radio code under pressure."
Claire felt a chill run down her spine.
The old patriarch had been analyzing her every move while she believed she was remaining invisible.
"I called an old friend who retired from the judicial circuit," Samuel said.
"He pulled a photograph of the latest undercover task force recruits."
"Detective Claire Bennett."
"Top of her academy class at Quantico."
"Decorated for valor during the docks trafficking bust three years ago."
Claire stared at the phone.
"If you knew, Mr. Romano, why didn't you have your security throw me out?"
"Because you were the only person in that house who wasn't waiting for me to die," Samuel said blunt as a hammer.
Matteo looked away into the dark rain, his knuckles turning white inside his pockets.
"Grandpa, who sent that text tonight?" Matteo asked, his voice thick with controlled rage.
"The burner number was routed through an internal network," Samuel said.
"A private line I set up six months ago for only two people."
"Who?"
"Your uncle Raymond," Samuel answered.
A cold gust of wind blew across the parking lot, rustling the plastic tarp over an adjacent construction fence.
Matteo’s breathing turned ragged.
"Raymond wouldn't do this. He manages the entire commercial division. He has everything he wants."
"He doesn't have the ownership deed," Samuel said.
"Raymond borrowed forty million dollars from offshore syndicates in Macao two years ago to finance a private development project that collapsed."
"If my trust isn't liquidated into cash before the fiscal quarter ends, those people will skin him alive."
Claire pulled out a small black notebook from her tactical jacket.
"Mr. Romano, a text message from a shared network isn't definitive proof in court."
"Phones can be cloned."
"Accounts can be breached."
"I know that, Detective," Samuel said.
"Which is why I hired Julian Reed to audit Raymond's subsidiary accounts this morning."
Matteo’s head snapped toward the phone.
"Julian? Grandpa, Julian has been our family attorney for thirty years."
"Where is he?"
"That is the problem," Samuel whispered, his voice trembling slightly.
"Julian was supposed to meet me in my study at four o'clock this afternoon with the audit files and the irrevocable trust documents."
"He never showed up."
Claire’s tactical instincts flared instantly.
"Did you check his residence?"
"His office in the financial district was locked at noon," Samuel said.
"His personal vehicle was found abandoned two hours ago near the East River docks."
"Someone took him."
"Someone who knew Julian had the only legal paperwork capable of revoking Raymond's power of attorney."
Matteo swore under his breath.
"I'm coming to the hospital right now, Grandpa. I'll bring personal security from my father's old crew."
"No," Samuel ordered sharply.
"Don't bring the family. Half of them are on Raymond's payroll already."
"Trust no one except the detective."
"Grandpa, she's a cop!"
"And she's the only one with no financial interest in my obituary, Matteo," Samuel said.
Suddenly, a muffled crash of breaking glass echoed through the hospital room's phone line.
The steady rhythmic beep of the cardiac monitor accelerated into a frantic, high-pitched screech.
Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed over the linoleum floor on the other end.
"Nurse?" Samuel called out, his voice suddenly sharp and breathless.
"Who are you?"
A harsh, metallic voice spoke in the background:
"Romano, don't move your hands."
"Grandpa!" Matteo shouted into the speaker.
"Grandpa, what's happening?!"
"Someone's... in the room..." Samuel gasped.
A violent scuffle sounded through the speaker.
The sound of medical equipment crashing to the floor.
Then a sudden, definitive click.
The line went completely dead.
Matteo stared at the black phone screen, his eyes wide with horror.
Claire was already moving.
She slammed the trunk of her Dodge shut, the metallic thud echoing across the empty parking lot.
She turned to Matteo, her police jacket zipped tight and her weapon secured.
May you like
"Get in your car," Claire commanded.
"Saint Jude Memorial. Right now."
