Chapter 10 - The Poisoner's Epitaph
The cold Atlantic rain showed no signs of abating, falling in heavy, rhythmic sheets across the concrete expanse of Pier 42.
Dominic handed Noah gently to one of his senior security guards, who wrapped the boy in a dry woolen blanket inside an SUV.
"Keep him warm and do not let him look at this pier," Dominic instructed the guard in a quiet, steely tone.
Dominic turned and walked toward the edge of the bulkhead where Eleanor lay dying on the wet asphalt.
Aaron Bennett stood over the elderly woman, holding his carbine low, his face illuminated by the distant yellow floodlights.
Eleanor was breathing in shallow, wet rattles, her silk dress soaked in a mixture of rainwater and dark arterial blood.
Dominic crouched beside his aunt, looking down into the eyes of the woman who had guided his family for forty years.
"Why, Eleanor?" Dominic asked, his voice hollow and stripped of all anger, leaving only cold, desolate grief.
"Was the control of these concrete docks worth the life of Claire and the soul of this family?"
Eleanor coughed weakly, a thin line of dark crimson trailing from the corner of her withered mouth.
"You never... you never understood what it took to build this house, Dominic," Eleanor whispered, her voice like grinding stone.
"Your father was a dreamer who wanted to buy vineyards in Tuscany and let the shipping lines decay into bankruptcy."
"I had to put digitalis in his evening brandy thirty years ago to keep the Russo name from being erased from the city."
Dominic felt an icy chill run through his veins as he stared at the dying matriarch.
"You murdered my father?"
Eleanor let out a dry, rattling laugh that choked in her throat as her lungs failed.
"I preserved the bloodline, Dominic."
"Just as I tried to preserve it when that Boston prosecutor's daughter entered this house and began auditing our books."
"Claire found the offshore accounts that funneled corporate profits into the Morretti holding firms."
"She was going to take Noah and hand our family's entire thirty-year history to the grand jury."
"She wasn't destroying our family, Eleanor," Dominic said, leaning down so his words pierced her fading mind.
"She was trying to save my soul and Noah's future from becoming what you became."
Eleanor's pale eyes flickered with a sudden, vicious gleam of spite as she looked toward the dark water.
"It doesn't matter now, Dominic," Eleanor rasped, her hand clawing feebly at the wet concrete.
"Dante Morretti has already boarded the cargo vessel Titan Fortune at the outer harbor berth."
"The ship is loaded with four hundred tons of volatile industrial chemicals in the lower ballast tanks."
"The electronic navigation controls have been hardwired to a remote satellite detonation transmitter."
"Dante is going to sink that ship directly in the central navigation channel before the coast guard can board her."
"The chemical spill will close the Boston harbor for six months, bankrupting every maritime company on the coast."
"The federal government will seize every terminal owned by the Russo dynasty under the anti-terrorism statutes."
"Our name will be erased from history before the sun rises tomorrow morning."
Dominic grabbed Eleanor's shoulder, shaking her with fierce urgency.
"Where is the remote detonation trigger, Eleanor?"
"Dante has it... in his pocket... on the bridge of the ship," Eleanor gasped, her eyelids fluttering violently.
"You can save your brother's worthless life... or you can stop the ship."
"You cannot do both, Dominic."
Eleanor's head fell back against the wet concrete, her eyes fixing on the storm clouds above with a blank, lifeless stare.
The matriarch of the Russo empire was dead, her final breath dissolving into the salty ocean mist.
Emma stepped over to Dominic, her hands still coated in Michael's blood from applying the pressure dressings.
"Michael's pulse is dropping rapidly, Dominic," Emma said, her voice taut with clinical urgency.
"The decompression needle bought him time, but his liver is lacerated from the second bullet."
"If he isn't in an advanced trauma operating theater within twenty-five minutes, he will go into irreversible hypovolemic shock."
Dominic stood up, looking at the idling SUV where his son was safe, then looking toward the dark ocean where the lights of the freighter flickered.
"Can Marco's team transport him to Massachusetts General under armed escort?" Dominic asked Emma.
Emma looked down at the unconscious young man lying on the pallet and shook her head with grim honesty.
"A standard transport will kill him on the bridge traffic," Emma said.
"I need to stay in the back of the medical unit to manually pump fluids and maintain the chest seal until we reach the surgical bay."
"Then you go with Michael, Emma," Dominic commanded without hesitation.
"Take Noah and Marco's team and get my brother to the hospital under full security lockdown."
Aaron Bennett stepped forward, adjusting his tactical sling and checking the ammunition drum on his carbine.
"That leaves you and me to deal with the Titan Fortune, Dominic," Aaron said, his gray eyes flashing in the rain.
"We take the high-speed harbor pilot boat docked at the end of Pier 42."
"We board that freighter before it clears the outer channel, or Claire's memory will be buried under four hundred tons of toxic sludge."
Dominic looked at Claire's half-brother, reaching out his right hand.
May you like
Aaron looked at Dominic's open palm for a second, then clasped it firmly with an iron grip.
"Let's finish this, Bennett," Dominic said.
