Chapter 6 - The Key Inside The Cork
I stared at the tiny keyhole embedded in the cork.
“It’s a hollow vault,” Roman explained quietly, the SUV speeding through the dark city streets. “My father had a dozen of these made in Switzerland. The cork is real, but there’s a micro-cylinder hidden inside. You have to twist the two halves to open it.”
He gripped the top and bottom of the old, stained cork.
With a sharp crack, it split perfectly in half.
Inside the hollowed-out center was a tiny, rolled-up piece of parchment.
Roman pulled it out and unrolled it.
It wasn’t a deed. It wasn’t a ledger.
It was a list of names and bank account numbers.
“The Moretti family’s offshore accounts,” Roman said, his eyes scanning the tiny text. “Proof of their money laundering. Proof that would put their entire leadership in federal prison for life.”
“Why was it in the wine?” I asked, my head spinning.
“Because nobody looks for paper in a liquid,” Roman said. “My father knew the Morettis were coming for him. He hid their death warrant in the one place they’d never think to drink. A sentimental bottle for his son.”
He looked at me. “Your father helped him hide it. He’s the one who sourced the Swiss corks. Patrick Cole was the smartest man my father ever knew.”
Tears blurred my vision. “Greg ruined him. He ruined my dad for this.”
“And tonight, we ruin Greg,” Roman said coldly.
The SUV screeched to a halt.
We were parked outside a desolate, overgrown gravel lot. A chain-link fence surrounded the ruins of a demolished building.
The place where Cole Wine & Spirits used to stand.
A single black sedan was parked in the center of the lot. Its headlights were on, blinding us.
“Stay in the car,” Roman told Daniel.
He looked at me. “You walk behind me. If shooting starts, you drop to the ground. Understand?”
I nodded, my heart pounding in my ears.
We stepped out into the cold night air. The gravel crunched under our feet.
A figure stepped out from behind the headlights of the sedan.
Greg.
He was holding a gun. And with his other hand, he was holding Lily.
“Mommy!” Lily cried, struggling against his grip. She was crying, her pajamas dirty from the dust.
“Lily!” I screamed, stepping forward.
Roman threw his arm out, stopping me.
“Ah, the happy family reunion,” Greg smirked. He looked pathetic. Sweaty, nervous, his eyes darting around. The Morettis had sent a boy to do a man’s job.
“Let the child go, Greg,” Roman said, his voice projecting across the empty lot. “You have me. You have the list.”
He held up the piece of parchment.
Greg licked his lips. “Toss it over.”
“The girl first.”
“I’m not an idiot, DeLuca!” Greg shouted, pressing the gun closer to Lily. “Toss the paper!”
Roman didn’t hesitate. He crumpled the parchment into a ball and threw it onto the gravel, halfway between them.
“Go get it,” Greg shoved Lily forward.
Lily stumbled, crying, and ran toward me.
I fell to my knees and caught her, wrapping my arms around her tightly. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”
Greg laughed, stepping forward to pick up the paper. “Too easy. The Morettis are going to pay me a fortune for this.”
He bent down.
“Daniel,” Roman said softly.
A laser sight painted a red dot directly in the center of Greg’s forehead.
Greg froze. He looked up, terrified.
Daniel had a sniper rifle resting on the roof of the SUV.
“You really think,” Roman said, walking slowly toward Greg, “that I would bring the original list to a rat?”
Greg’s hands shook. He dropped his gun.
Roman stopped in front of him. He looked down at the crumpled paper.
“Pick it up,” Roman commanded.
Greg whimpered, picking up the paper and unrolling it.
He stared at it in horror.
It wasn’t a list of accounts.
It was a child’s drawing. A crayon picture of a house with a smiling stick figure.
“That’s my drawing!” Lily sniffled against my shoulder.
Roman looked at Greg with eyes as cold as a grave.
“You broke into her home,” Roman whispered. “You terrified a child. You stole from my family. And you thought you could win.”
Greg fell to his knees. “Please. Please, DeLuca. The Morettis made me do it!”
Roman looked back at me, holding my daughter.
Then he looked at Greg.
“I don’t care.” Roman turned around and walked back toward us.
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He didn’t look back when Daniel stepped forward with zip ties and a gag.
TITLE: The Real 1982 Bellacourt
