Chapter 5 - THE MEDAL
Anthony Rizzo looked twenty years older than he had that morning.
Machines surrounded his hospital bed.
A white bandage disappeared beneath the collar of his gown. Another covered most of his left shoulder.
Roman stood beside him in silence.
Norah remained near the window with the twins.
She had refused to wait elsewhere.
“No more rooms I’m not allowed inside,” she had told Roman.
He had agreed.
Anthony opened his eyes.
“Boss.”
“Don’t talk if it hurts.”
Anthony gave him a tired look.
“Then this’ll be a short conversation.”
Roman almost smiled.
Almost.
“You saw who shot you?”
“Two men.”
“Keane?”
“That’s what they wanted us to think.”
Roman leaned forward.
“Explain.”
“The SUV had Colorado plates. Irish crew uses Wyoming rentals when they work Denver.”
“That proves nothing.”
“I know.”
Anthony swallowed.
“One guy called the other Mickey.”
Norah shifted behind Roman.
Anthony continued.
“Could be Irish. Could be fake.”
“What else?”
“They knew the transfer route.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“How much?”
“All of it.”
Only four people had known Anthony would move from the south warehouse to the medical safe location.
Roman.
Carlo.
Matteo.
Anthony himself.
Roman said, “Did you tell anybody?”
Anthony shook his head.
“Your men?”
“No.”
“Family?”
“My wife thinks I sell restaurant equipment.”
Despite everything, Norah made a small sound that might have been disbelief.
Anthony glanced toward her.
Then saw the babies.
His eyes widened.
Roman’s voice sharpened.
“Look at me.”
Anthony obeyed.
“You’ve seen Norah before?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Roman noticed.
So did Norah.
“Anthony,” Roman said.
The injured man closed his eyes.
“Not in person.”
Roman felt something cold settle through him.
“Explain.”
Anthony exhaled.
“Twelve months ago, I was still running security review.”
Norah went completely still.
Anthony looked ashamed.
“One of the surveillance teams submitted photos of Mrs. Moretti going into St. Vincent’s.”
Roman’s eyes hardened.
“You saw the photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Did Matteo?”
Anthony hesitated.
“That week, he asked for all security reports involving family members.”
“Why?”
“Said there’d been a threat.”
“Was there?”
“Not one I knew about.”
Roman looked at Norah.
The first answer had arrived.
The photograph came from his own surveillance.
His own decision to secretly protect his wife had created the weapon used to frighten her.
But a larger question had replaced it.
Why had Matteo requested those reports before Norah disappeared?
Anthony shifted painfully.
“There’s something else.”
His hand moved toward the drawer beside the bed.
Roman stopped him.
“I’ll get it.”
Inside was a clear hospital property bag.
Wallet.
Keys.
A broken watch.
And a silver medal darkened with blood.
Roman removed it.
Saint Christopher.
Small.
Oval.
The back carried a stamped Moretti crest.
Norah approached.
“What is that?”
“Family issue.”
Her expression changed.
“You give religious medals to gangsters?”
“My father started it with drivers. Men who traveled dangerous routes.”
“Comforting.”
Roman ignored the remark.
“Where did you get this?”
Anthony looked at the medal.
“Pulled it off the guy who shot me.”
Norah’s face paled.
Roman turned the medal beneath the hospital light.
The chain had broken at the clasp.
One edge was dented.
There were initials on the back.
N.M.
Roman stopped.
Norah noticed.
“What?”
Roman did not answer.
Anthony did.
“Nico Moretti.”
Matteo’s only son.
Dead nine years.
Norah looked between them.
“I thought Matteo’s son died.”
“He did,” Roman said.
Nico had been twenty-two when a bomb intended for Roman’s father tore apart a parked car outside a restaurant.
Matteo had reached the wreck before the ambulance.
He never spoke about what he had seen inside.
Afterward, he became quieter.
More disciplined.
Less interested in expansion.
Roman had always believed grief had made him cautious.
Now he wondered what else it had made him.
“That medal was buried with Nico,” Roman said.
Norah stared at it.
Anthony shook his head.
“Then somebody dug up a grave.”
“No.”
Roman studied the dent.
“I was at the funeral.”
He remembered Matteo standing over his son’s coffin.
Remembered the medal hanging from Nico’s neck.
But he also remembered something else.
Matteo touching it before the lid closed.
Roman had turned away.
He could not be certain the medal remained.
“What are you thinking?” Norah asked.
“That Matteo may have taken it back.”
Anthony tried to sit higher.
“Boss, there’s more.”
“Go.”
“Before they shot me, one of them said something.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘This ends tonight.’”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s all?”
“No.”
Anthony looked toward Norah and the infants.
“He said, ‘One Moretti family is enough.’”
Silence filled the room.
Norah drew Rose closer.
Roman’s body changed immediately.
Every trace of vulnerability disappeared.
He became what Chicago feared.
Anthony saw it and said, “Don’t.”
Roman looked at him.
“If Matteo is behind this—”
“You don’t know that.”
“He had Norah’s photograph. He arranged her disappearance. His medal is around the neck of the man who put you here.”
“That’s exactly why it bothers me.”
Roman paused.
Anthony lifted his good hand.
“Matteo’s been doing this forty years. If he wanted to hide his involvement, would he send a shooter wearing his dead son’s medal?”
The question stopped Roman.
Norah said quietly, “Someone wants you to believe it’s him.”
Roman turned the medal over again.
A trap inside a trap.
The room door opened.
A nurse stepped in.
Behind her stood a tall gray-haired man in a dark overcoat.
Matteo Moretti.
He saw Roman.
Then Norah.
Then the twins.
His face broke in a way Roman had never witnessed.
Not fear.
Relief.
“Oh, thank God.”
Roman crossed the room so quickly the nurse stumbled backward.
He grabbed Matteo by the front of his coat.
Norah shouted his name.
Roman pushed his uncle against the wall.
The hospital machines began alarming behind them as Anthony tried to move.
Matteo did not fight back.
He looked directly at Roman.
“You have every right to hate me.”
Roman held the bloody medal inches from his face.
“Why was this around the neck of the man who shot Anthony?”
Matteo looked at it.
For the first time, genuine fear entered his eyes.
“Because whoever shot him wanted you to come after me.”
Roman tightened his grip.
Matteo lowered his voice.
“And if you do, Roman, you will give them exactly what they need.”
“What do they need?”
Matteo looked past him at Norah.
“At midnight?”
Roman nodded.
May you like
Matteo’s face went white.
“They need you angry enough to start a war.”
