Chapter 14 - THE COMMISSION SUMMIT AT NAVY PIER
The midday sun broke through the heavy gray clouds over Lake Michigan, painting the steel surface of the water in dazzling silver.
At the end of Navy Pier, the private corporate yacht The Sovereign was moored behind high security gates.
Inside the luxurious mahogany-paneled salon of the vessel, six men sat around an oval conference table.
At the head of the table sat Victor Vance, dressed in an immaculate Italian silk suit, sipping twenty-year-old scotch.
Across from him sat Don Carmine Luciano, the ruthless seventy-year-old patriarch of New York's primary crime syndicate.
Four armed Luciano lieutenants stood along the walls, their hands resting on concealed submachine guns.
"It's twelve-thirty, Vance," Carmine Luciano said, checking his diamond pocket watch with an irritated frown.
"Russo was supposed to confirm the capture of the Moretti children forty minutes ago," Carmine growled.
"Dominic had an unexpected technical delay with the penthouse vault," Vance replied smoothly, waving a dismissive hand.
"Adrian Moretti is trapped thirty floors beneath the tower with no power and no communications," Vance assured him.
"By sunset, the entire Chicago distribution network will be signed over to our joint venture," Vance smiled.
"Is that what Dominic told you, Victor?" a cold, commanding baritone echoed from the open salon doorway.
Every man in the room snapped their heads toward the entrance, their drinks freezing halfway to their lips.
Adrian Moretti stepped over the threshold into the salon.
He wore a fresh, custom-tailored charcoal suit, perfectly pressed and devoid of a single speck of dust.
Behind him, Marcus Reed and twenty heavily armed Moretti capos filed into the salon, surrounding the perimeter with overwhelming tactical force.
Carmine Luciano's bodyguards reached for their weapons, but stopped dead when they saw the red laser dots dancing across their chests.
Victor Vance's glass slipped from his fingers, shattering onto the teak floor and spraying amber liquor across his leather shoes.
"Moretti..." Vance whispered, his face turning an ash-gray color.
"How are you standing here?" Vance stammered.
"Dominic Russo had an unfortunate accident on the top floor of my building," Adrian explained smoothly, taking two steps forward.
"And my cousin Salvatore had an equally fatal boating mishap at Calumet Harbor," Adrian added coldly.
Carmine Luciano slowly set his pocket watch onto the table, his aging eyes narrowing with calculated appraisal.
"You're a hard man to kill, Adrian," Carmine said, his voice raspy from decades of cigars.
"I didn't come here to kill you, Carmine," Adrian replied, taking an empty chair at the foot of the table and sitting down with casual authority.
"I came to show you how your trusted business partner has been robbing you blind," Adrian stated.
Adrian pulled a sleek silver laptop from Marcus's hands and opened it on the conference table.
He plugged Vanessa's titanium drive into the side port, pressing three keystrokes.
Instantly, the wall-mounted high-definition presentation screen flared to life, displaying detailed offshore banking records.
"For the past four years, Victor Vance and Dominic Russo operated three ghost shipping lines through the Saint Lawrence Seaway," Adrian explained.
"Every shipment of high-end luxury goods and industrial electronics that was supposedly intercepted by federal authorities was actually diverted," Adrian noted.
"Diverted into Vance's private warehouses in Montreal," Adrian revealed, tapping the screen.
"Vance stole sixty-two million dollars directly from the Five Families' joint escrow accounts," Adrian declared.
Carmine Luciano leaned forward, his ancient eyes scanning the wire transfer numbers with terrifying focus.
The old New York boss turned his head slowly, fixing Victor Vance with a gaze of pure, murderous rage.
"Is this true, Victor?" Carmine whispered, the dangerous tone dropping into a deadly whisper.
"Carmine, it's a forgery!" Vance shrieked, backing away from the table until his spine hit the wall.
"Moretti fabricated these files to tear our alliance apart!" Vance screamed in desperation.
"The cryptographic signatures on those ledger entries belong to your personal accountant in Manhattan, Carmine," Adrian countered calmly.
"You can call him right now and verify the authorization codes yourself," Adrian suggested.
Carmine didn't need to call.
He recognized his own accountant's digital verification hashes immediately.
The old Don stood up slowly, adjusting his silk tie with calm, terrifying dignity.
"You brought your children into this, Victor," Carmine said softly, shaking his head with bitter disgust.
"We have rules in our business," Carmine reminded him.
"We don't put targets on six-year-old babies," Carmine declared.
"And we certainly don't tolerate thieves who steal from our own table," Carmine added.
Carmine turned to his two surviving lieutenants and made a simple, cutting gesture with his right hand.
"Take Mr. Vance down to the engine room," Carmine commanded coldly.
"And make sure his family in New Jersey understands why he won't be coming home for dinner," Carmine ordered.
Vance began screaming hysterically, begging for mercy as the two hulking New York enforcers dragged him down the companionway stairs.
His frantic wails were cut short as the heavy steel hatch slammed shut below deck.
Carmine Luciano turned back to Adrian, bowing his head in a rare, profound gesture of mutual respect.
"Chicago belongs to the Moretti family," Carmine stated clearly.
"New York will never cross the Indiana border again as long as you draw breath, Adrian," Carmine pledged.
"Make sure you remember that promise, Carmine," Adrian replied, standing up from the table.
"Because if anyone from your city ever looks at my children again, I won't just stop at the harbor," Adrian warned.
"I will burn Manhattan to the ground," Adrian promised.
Carmine nodded solemnly, knowing full well the Chicago boss meant every single syllable.
May you like
"Fair enough, Adrian," Carmine agreed.
"Go home to your family," Carmine said.
