Chapter 7 - THE FAMILY HEIRLOOM
The harsh glare of the floodlight cut through the freezing fog rolling off the Boston harbor.
“Sixty seconds, Roman!” Silvio’s voice boomed through the megaphone, unnatural and metallic.
Roman didn't move. He crouched behind the rusted shipping container, his eyes locked on the eight-year-old boy shivering in the courtyard. Leo looked exactly like Roman did as a child—dark hair, defiant jaw, but terrified. The guard holding the gun to the boy’s head looked bored, which made it all the more terrifying.
“I have to go out there,” Roman said, his voice stripped of all emotion, a terrifyingly blank slate.
“He’s going to kill you the second you step into the light,” Margaret warned, tightening her grip on her shotgun. “He doesn't want a trade. He wants to eliminate the bloodline.”
“He wants the music box,” Roman countered, pulling the heavy mahogany box from the duffel bag at his feet. “It’s the only leverage I have.”
“But the ledger isn't in the box!” Kate hissed, grabbing Roman’s arm. “It’s in the basement furnace! If you go out there empty-handed, he’ll kill you both!”
Roman looked at Kate, his dark eyes intense. “I know. That’s why you’re going to the basement.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy, tarnished silver object. It was a vintage cigarette case, engraved with the DeLuca family crest.
“My father carried this through three wars on the streets,” Roman said, pressing the cold metal into Kate’s palm. “It’s empty, but Silvio doesn't know that. When you get to the furnace, if you find the ledger, put it inside this case. If things go wrong up here, you take this to the FBI. You burn Silvio’s world to the ground.”
Kate stared at the family heirloom. “Roman, I can’t—”
“You can,” Roman interrupted fiercely. “You are her sister. You have her fire. Go.”
Roman stood up. He didn't look back. He walked out from behind the shipping container, his hands raised, holding the mahogany music box in his left hand.
“Stop the clock, Uncle,” Roman yelled, his voice carrying over the wind.
Silvio smiled, a predatory, sickening expression. He lowered the megaphone. “Ah, the prodigal nephew. Step into the light, Roman. Slowly.”
As Roman walked into the courtyard, Margaret grabbed Kate’s shoulder. “The north entrance. Stay low. I’ll cover your six.”
Kate nodded. She slipped around the back of the containers, plunging into the deep shadows of the shipyard, moving quickly toward the rusted metal door leading to the basement.
Above her, the confrontation began.
“Let the boy go, Silvio,” Roman demanded, stopping twenty feet from his uncle.
“Such a tragedy,” Silvio mocked, leaning heavily on his silver cane. “Sofia was a beautiful girl. But she was too smart for her own good. She found my private accounts. She thought she could blackmail me into leaving the family.”
“You killed my wife,” Roman said, his voice vibrating with a lethal calmness.
“I protected my empire,” Silvio corrected coldly. “Now. Put the box on the ground and kick it over.”
“The boy first.”
Silvio laughed. It was a dry, rasping sound. “You are in no position to negotiate, Roman. You are alone.”
Down below, Kate reached the north entrance. The rusted door groaned in protest, but it wasn't locked. She slipped inside, clicking on a small penlight.
The basement was a labyrinth of ancient pipes and rotting concrete. The air smelled of salt and decay. Kate moved quickly, her heart hammering against her ribs, searching for the old cast-iron furnace.
The gargoyle.
She found it in the deepest corner of the basement. A massive, rusted iron beast, its open mouth forming the grate of the old incinerator.
Kate dropped to her knees. She reached her hand into the cold, soot-covered mouth of the gargoyle. Her fingers brushed against something hard and metallic.
Not a book. A small, heavy steel lockbox.
She pulled it out. It was sealed with a digital keypad.
The melody is the lock. 6-2-4-8-1-9.
Kate frantically punched the numbers into the keypad. The green light flashed.
Click.
She opened the box. Inside was a small, black leather ledger and a single USB drive. The evidence. The proof of Silvio’s treason.
Kate grabbed the ledger and the drive, shoving them into Roman’s silver cigarette case.
Suddenly, the cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of Kate’s head.
“Well, well,” a rough voice sneered behind her. “The boss said a rat might try to sneak into the basement.”
Kate froze. She slowly raised her hands, still clutching the silver case.
Up in the courtyard, Roman had kicked the music box forward. Silvio’s men retrieved it and pried it open.
Silvio looked inside. His smile vanished.
“It’s empty,” Silvio hissed, his eyes snapping up to Roman.
“You’re losing your touch, Uncle,” Roman mocked. “You really thought I’d bring the evidence directly to you?”
Silvio’s face twisted in rage. He raised his cane, pointing it like a sword at Roman. “Kill him. Kill the boy. Kill them all!”
Every guard in the courtyard raised their weapons.
But before a single shot could be fired, the guard holding the gun to Leo’s head suddenly screamed.
A deafening blast echoed from the shadows. Margaret Miller stepped out from behind a rusted crane, racking the slide of her shotgun. The guard dropped to the ground, his shoulder shattered.
Chaos erupted.
Roman dove forward, drawing a hidden backup weapon from his ankle holster. He fired twice, dropping the two men closest to Silvio.
Leo, showing terrifying instincts for an eight-year-old, dropped to the asphalt and crawled frantically toward the cover of a concrete pillar.
In the basement, the guard holding the gun to Kate’s head was distracted by the gunfire above. He turned his head for a fraction of a second.
It was all Kate needed.
She spun around, swinging the heavy silver cigarette case with all her might. The solid metal edge caught the guard squarely in the temple. He grunted, stumbling sideways, his shot going wild and ricocheting off the concrete ceiling.
Kate didn't wait. She scrambled past him, bolting for the stairs, clutching the heirloom to her chest.
She burst out of the north entrance just as Silvio, realizing his men were falling to Margaret’s covering fire and Roman’s lethal precision, grabbed Leo by the collar of his jacket.
Silvio dragged the screaming boy toward a waiting armored SUV, pulling a silver revolver from his coat.
“Roman!” Silvio screamed over the gunfire, pressing the barrel of the revolver against Leo’s spine. “Drop the gun, or I blow him in half!”
Roman froze. He was ten feet away, his weapon raised, but he didn't have a clean shot. Margaret was out of shells, pinned behind the crane by suppressing fire from the remaining guards.
“Roman, drop it!” Silvio roared.
Roman looked at his son. Leo was crying, his terrified eyes locked on his father.
Slowly, agonizingly, Roman opened his hand. His gun clattered onto the wet asphalt.
Silvio smiled, a victorious, wicked grin. He raised the revolver, aiming it directly at Roman’s chest.
“Goodbye, Roman.”
Before Silvio could pull the trigger, a small, bright object flew through the air, striking the window of the armored SUV with a sharp clack.
It was the tiny brass key.
Silvio blinked, distracted by the movement. He looked toward the shadow of the warehouse.
May you like
Standing there, perfectly calm, was little Eli. The five-year-old had snuck out of the car, followed them, and thrown the key.
And as Silvio stared at the child in shock, Eli opened his mouth and began to hum.
