Chapter 5 - THE DEAD MAN'S GAMBIT
The silence in the grand foyer was deafening.
The Russian commander’s finger hovered over the trigger, his cold eyes narrowing as he stared at the mafia boss.
Through the phone, Vanessa’s confident laughter abruptly stopped.
"What are you talking about?" Vanessa demanded, her voice losing its venomous edge. "The money is in the offshore account. Marco transferred it."
Luca let out a dark, humorless chuckle.
"Did he?" Luca challenged, the absolute certainty in his voice making the Russian commander hesitate. "Marco was a lot of things, Vanessa. He was a traitor, a coward, and a thief. But he wasn't an idiot. You really think he transferred five million dollars of Russian cartel money into an account you could access without him?"
"I have the account numbers!" Vanessa shrieked through the speaker.
"And I guarantee you, if you check them right now, they are empty," Luca stated smoothly.
In the panic room, Nina and I held our breath. I watched the monitor, my heart pounding so hard my ribs ached. Luca was bluffing. He had to be. He hadn't known about the money until an hour ago.
"Check it," the Russian commander barked into his radio, speaking to a hacker on his end.
The seconds stretched into an agonizing eternity.
The commander’s radio clicked. A voice spoke rapidly in Russian.
The commander’s face darkened with absolute fury.
"The account is empty," the commander growled, pressing the gun harder against Luca’s temple. "Where is our money, Moretti?"
"Marco moved it," Luca lied flawlessly, not breaking a sweat despite the steel pressed to his skull. "He knew Vanessa would betray him the second she didn't need him anymore. He hid the five million in a secure crypto-wallet."
"And you know where it is?" the commander demanded.
"I know Marco," Luca replied coldly. "He keeps a physical backup drive of all his illicit transactions hidden in his safe house on the South Side. If you kill me now, the FBI raids that house tomorrow, and your five million dollars goes to the federal government."
The commander slowly lowered his pistol, realizing the tactical reality. A dead mafia boss didn't pay the bills, and the Volkov syndicate didn't forgive lost money.
"Take him," the commander ordered his men, pointing at Luca. "We are going to the safe house."
The Russian mercenaries hauled Luca to his feet, binding his wrists with heavy zip-ties. They dragged him toward the ruined front doors, leaving Silvio and the surviving guards bleeding on the marble floor.
"Luca!" Nina cried out, hitting the monitor screen with her fist.
The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind them, plunging the foyer into silence.
I fell back into the desk chair, my mind racing.
"He's buying time," I whispered, the realization hitting me. "Marco didn't have a safe house on the South Side. That’s the safe house Luca was going to send us to."
"He’s leading them into a trap," Nina gasped, hope returning to her tear-streaked face.
"But he’s unarmed and tied up," I pointed out, terror gripping my chest. "If they get to the safe house and realize he's lying, they'll execute him on the spot."
I looked at the monitors. The house was secure, the Russians gone.
"We have to help him," I said, standing up.
"How?" Nina asked. "We don't have weapons. We don't have an army."
I looked at the bank of monitors, my eyes scanning the feeds of the ruined mansion. I stopped on the feed showing the East Wing hallway.
Marco’s body was still lying on the carpet.
And next to him, discarded by the Russian mercenary who had shot him, was Marco’s cell phone.
"We don't need an army," I said, grabbing my coat. "We need Vanessa."
Ten minutes later, Silvio—bandaged and furious—was driving a heavily armored SUV through the dark streets of Chicago. Nina sat in the back, clutching her brother's blue silk tie.
I sat in the passenger seat, holding Marco’s blood-stained cell phone.
I had used a dead guard's thumb to unlock it. I was scrolling through his text messages, finding the thread with Vanessa.
"The safe house is heavily fortified," Silvio grunted, navigating the city streets with lethal precision. "Luca’s inner circle is stationed there. When the Russians pull up, our boys will unleash hell. But Luca is in the crossfire."
"We need to draw the Russians out," I said, typing rapidly on Marco’s phone.
"What are you doing?" Nina asked from the back seat.
"I’m texting Vanessa," I replied, my hands shaking.
I drafted a message, mimicking Marco’s frantic tone.
Vanessa, it’s Marco. I’m bleeding out in the East Wing. The Russians double-crossed me. I have the drive with the five million. They don't know I have it. Come get it before Luca’s men find me, or the deal is off.
I hit send.
We waited in agonizing silence.
Three minutes later, a reply popped up.
You idiot. I’m on my way. If you die before I get there, I swear to God I’ll burn your body myself.
"She took the bait," I breathed.
"Where is she going?" Silvio asked.
"She thinks Marco is still at the mansion," I said. "But we aren't going to let her get there."
I pulled up the GPS tracker on Marco’s phone, sharing his live location with Vanessa’s phone.
"Silvio, head toward the industrial district," I ordered. "I’m going to make her GPS think Marco is moving."
Silvio nodded, accelerating the heavy SUV.
We pulled into an abandoned, rusted shipping yard near the river, a desolate maze of towering metal containers and broken concrete. It was three miles away from Luca’s safe house.
We parked the SUV in the shadows and waited.
Fifteen minutes later, a sleek, silver Mercedes pulled into the shipping yard, its headlights cutting through the fog rolling off the river.
Vanessa stepped out of the car.
She was alone. She had come secretly, unwilling to share the five million dollars with her father or his enforcers. She was wearing a dark trench coat over her red satin gown, holding a small, silver pistol in her hand.
"Marco?" Vanessa called out into the darkness, her voice echoing off the rusted metal. "Marco, where are you?"
I stepped out from behind a shipping container, illuminated by the headlights of her car.
Vanessa froze. Her eyes narrowed as she recognized me.
"The maid?" Vanessa sneered, raising her pistol. "Where is Marco?"
"Marco is dead, Vanessa," I said loudly, my voice steady despite the absolute terror coursing through my veins.
"You're lying," she snapped. "He just texted me."
I held up Marco’s blood-stained cell phone.
Vanessa stared at it, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. The trap had been sprung, but not by the mafia boss she feared. It had been sprung by the housemaid she despised.
"You stupid little girl," Vanessa hissed, her eyes burning with pure, unadulterated venom. "You think you can play games with me?"
She aimed the gun directly at my chest.
"I don't need Marco," Vanessa said coldly. "I'll just kill you and find the drive myself."
"The drive doesn't exist, Vanessa," I stated, standing my ground. "Marco never moved the money. The Russians have it."
Vanessa’s finger tightened on the trigger.
"Say hello to Claire for me," she whispered.
But before she could fire, a massive, deafening roar ripped through the shipping yard.
A sleek, black armored vehicle smashed through the chain-link fence behind Vanessa, headlights blindingly bright.
It wasn't Silvio’s SUV.
May you like
It was a Russian tactical transport.
And stepping out of the passenger side, flanked by half a dozen heavily armed mercenaries, was Luca Moretti.
