Chapter 9 - The Uncle's Gambit
Salvatore’s jaw slackened for a fraction of a second at the mention of the name Thomas Carter.
He recovered instantly, laughing softly with theatrical arrogance.
"Thomas Carter? A dock mechanic? Nephew, the smoke has scrambled your brain. What does a dead union worker have to do with the Moretti legacy?"
Mia stepped around the table, holding the Iron Ledger open with her uninjured left hand.
"You know that name very well, Salvatore," Mia said, her voice steady and lethal.
"Because your Swiss bank account received an eight-hundred-thousand-dollar wire transfer on the exact day Thomas was crushed beneath that crane."
Salvatore’s face turned from tan to an ashen, sickly gray.
"You are lying. That ledger was burned thirty years ago."
"You thought it was burned," Eleanor spoke, her ancient voice carrying the authority of a judge reading a death sentence.
"You spent thirty years kissing my ring at Christmas, waiting for Bernardo’s ghost to disappear. But Bernardo wrote everything down, Salvatore. Every dime you took to betray your brother. Every lie you told to weaken this family."
Salvatore realized the trap had snapped shut around his neck.
The theatrical warmth vanished completely from his demeanor.
His eyes turned venomous, ugly, and cornered.
"You foolish old woman," Salvatore hissed, stepping back toward the exit.
"You think this little notebook protects you? You think Mason can hold the city with fifty loyal guards and a burned mansion?"
"I don't need fifty guards," Mason whispered, stepping between his uncle and the door.
"I only need one bullet."
"Julian Vance has the Falcone family, the federal judges, and three hundred armed soldiers at his back!" Salvatore yelled, his composure disintegrating.
"The meeting at midnight isn't a negotiation! It’s a coronation! Julian is taking the docks, the real estate, and the union contracts! If you kill me, his men will shell this compound until not even the dust remains!"
"He already tried that last night," Mia said, stepping closer to Mason.
"And your men died in the wine cellar."
Salvatore stared at Mia, his teeth grinding together in rage.
"You filthy little maid. You should have burned with the rest of the garbage."
Before the words had completely left Salvatore’s lips, Mason’s left hand shot out like an iron vise.
His fingers clamped around Salvatore’s throat, slamming the older man against the concrete wall with enough force to crack the plaster.
Salvatore choked, kicking his legs, his face turning dark purple.
"Never," Mason growled, leaning his face inches from his uncle’s gasping mouth.
"Never speak to the mother of my household with that tongue again."
Mia’s breath hitched in her throat at Mason’s words.
The mother of my household.
Eleanor did not flinch.
She simply watched her traitorous brother-in-law struggle for air.
"Give me the codes to Julian’s private terminal," Mason commanded, tightening his grip until Salvatore’s eyes bulged.
"Give me the frequency he uses to coordinate the hit squads."
"G-go to hell..." Salvatore gasped through crushed vocal cords.
Dante stepped into the room, holding a heavy black tactical tablet.
"Boss, don't waste the breath. Dr. Castillo just finished interrogating Salvatore’s pilot on the roof. The pilot sang like a canary."
Mason loosened his grip, letting Salvatore drop to the floor in a coughing, gasping heap.
"What did the pilot say, Dante?"
"Julian Vance isn't holding the Commission meeting at the Lexford Tower," Dante reported, showing the screen.
"He moved the summit to the private banquet hall at St. Jude’s Cathedral in Little Italy."
Eleanor gasped softly.
"St. Jude’s? That is consecrated ground. The Commission hasn't met there since nineteen-seventy-five."
"Julian chose it because weapons are strictly prohibited on church property under old mafia law," Dante explained.
"He thinks he can force the other capos to swear fealty to him without risking an open firefight."
Mason looked down at his uncle, who was crawling toward the corner of the room, clutching his bruised throat.
"Take him to the sub-basement cells," Mason ordered Dante.
"Chain him to the water pipe. If he makes a sound, break his other pinky finger."
Two guards dragged Salvatore away, his curses echoing down the hallway until the heavy iron door slammed shut.
The room returned to silence.
Mason turned toward Mia and Eleanor.
"The summit begins at eleven-thirty tonight," Mason said, looking at his gold wristwatch.
"Ten hours from now."
"You cannot walk into St. Jude’s alone, Mason," Eleanor warned, gripping her cane.
"Julian will have fifty men disguised as altar servers and ushers. It is a slaughterhouse waiting for you."
"I am not walking in alone," Mason said, his dark eyes fixing upon the Iron Ledger.
"I am walking in with fifty years of treason, written in the blood of their own fathers."
He turned to Mia.
"Mia. I need you to do something dangerous."
Mia straightened her shoulders, ignoring the ache in her bandaged shoulder.
"Name it, Mr. Moretti."
"The ledger proves Julian’s crimes, but the federal authorities hold the original copies of the shipping manifests that framed your husband," Mason explained.
"Julian’s chief accountant is a woman named Evelyn Reed. She was Thomas’s closest friend at the docks. She has been in hiding since the accident."
Mia’s eyes widened.
"Evelyn? She disappeared three days after Thomas was killed. I thought Julian murdered her too."
"She is alive, hiding in an apartment in Queens under a false name," Mason said.
"She refuses to speak to my men because she thinks I am the one who ordered Thomas’s death. But she knows you. She knows your voice."
"I will go," Mia said without a second of hesitation.
"You are four months pregnant and recovering from a gunshot wound," Mason said, his voice softening with unexpected tenderness.
"I am sending an armored convoy with you, but if Julian’s scouts spot you—"
"Mr. Moretti," Mia cut him off, her voice ringing with absolute, unshakable conviction.
"Julian Vance took the father of my child. He took my home. He tried to kill Lily."
May you like
She reached out with her uninjured hand and laid it flat against the Iron Ledger.
"I will bring you Evelyn Reed, and I will bring you the manifests. And then we will watch Julian Vance burn."
