Chương 8
“Because the photograph meant Dean was afraid of what I knew. And because, despite my better judgment, I did not want him to finish.”
A metal pipe ticked overhead.
Massimo rubbed the edge of the unsigned trust papers.
“I can kill him.”
“Yes.”
“You sound unimpressed.”
“Killing him solves the man. Not the records he copied, the people he paid, the Ashwoods, Hale, or the lie that you are still too weak to rule. Half the organization thinks Dean already is the boss.”
“Then I remove half.”
Sal gave him a tired look.
“There is the Massimo who made this possible.”
Massimo’s face hardened.
“You think I should call the police?”
“I think the FBI task force investigating Ashwood customs fraud would enjoy these payments.”
“They would enjoy me more.”
“Yes.”
The answer was immediate.
Massimo looked down at his motionless left foot.
Cooperation would expose more than Dean. It would expose the shipping companies, the protection payments, the labor rackets, shell corporations, judges, union officials, and politicians who had eaten at his tables and denied knowing him afterward.
It would end the Rinaldi family as his grandfather built it.
It might end Massimo’s freedom.
Sal closed the laptop.
“You asked me to find out who was killing you. I did not promise the answer would preserve your lifestyle.”
A knock sounded through the tunnel wall.
Three quick taps, then two.
Carla’s signal.
Sal shut off the lamp.
Massimo waited in darkness while footsteps approached through the passage. Carla opened the panel carrying one of Camille’s silver trays. Her breathing was uneven.
“Dean is looking for you,” she said.
“What happened?”
“He asked Nina whether your foot moved.”
Massimo’s body went still.
“What did she say?”
“She said rabbits can hear when they sleep.”
Sal muttered something under his breath.
Carla continued.
“He gave her chocolate. Asked again. She told him it was a secret.”
“Where is she?”
“In the pantry with Rosa.”
“Take her and leave.”
Carla’s mouth tightened.
“Through which gate? Dean has guards at both. He told security nobody leaves without his approval until after the wedding.”
Sal opened the laptop again.
“That is new.”
“He says it is because of threats from the Bellandis.”
Massimo turned the wheelchair toward the tunnel exit.
“I will order the gates opened.”
“And tell him you are frightened,” Sal said. “He will know.”
“He already knows something.”
Carla gripped the tray.
“Then stop using my daughter as part of your game.”
Massimo looked at her.
“Take the west passage to the old garage. Sal will drive you out.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“That is not a request.”
Her laugh was small and furious.
“You still think saying something quietly makes it less of an order.”
“Nina cannot be here.”
“And where will we go? Dean knows my apartment. He knows her preschool. He knows my mother’s address because your security forms asked for emergency contacts.”
Sal zipped the laptop into his bag.
“I have a place in Queens.”
Carla shook her head.
“A basement with men and guns?”
“A two-bedroom above my sister’s bakery.”
“You have a sister?”
“Everyone finds that surprising.”
Massimo reached for Carla’s hand. She almost pulled away.
“I put you in this position.”
“Yes.”
“I will get Nina out.”
“How?”
He thought of the federal task force.
Once he made the call, there would be no returning to the life he had before. Even if Dean were arrested, investigators would not politely ignore the documents that proved Massimo’s own crimes. Rivals would smell weakness. Cousins would call him traitor. Men who had toasted his father would try to kill him before testimony could be given.
He had spent his life believing family meant preserving the empire.
Nina sat beneath tables and gave stones to sad men.
Massimo released Carla’s hand.
“Bring me my private phone.”
Assistant Special Agent in Charge Leah Brooks did not believe Sal at first.
She listened for nine minutes, interrupted twice, and asked whether Massimo was recording the call for leverage.
“I assume every call is recorded,” Massimo said.
“Good assumption.”
Brooks had investigated Rinaldi businesses for seven years. Massimo knew her reputation: patient, humorless, impossible to bribe, raised by a postal worker in Baltimore. He had once authorized surveillance on her surveillance team. She had once seized a truck carrying three million dollars in counterfeit luxury goods and sent Massimo a civil forfeiture notice on his birthday.
“You are asking for federal protection for two civilians,” she said.
“A woman and a child.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Evidence of an attempted murder, healthcare fraud, financial conspiracy, and the Brooklyn Avenue attack.”
“And your own operations?”
Massimo looked at Sal.
Sal said nothing.
Brooks waited.
Massimo could hear office noise behind her. A printer. A distant conversation. Ordinary sounds around the destruction of his life.
“Yes,” he said.
The word left a physical emptiness.
Brooks did not celebrate.
“I need more than your word.”
“You will receive records.”
“Lawfully obtained records.”
“Some.”
“Mr. Rinaldi—”
“You have spent seven years taking records from me unlawfully.”
“We use warrants.”
“You use men who enjoy promotions.”
Sal gestured for him to stop.
Brooks sighed.
“This is not negotiation theater. If there is an immediate threat to a child, call local police.”
“The local police captain attended my father’s funeral.”
“That is not the reassurance you think it is.”
“I am not trying to reassure you.”
“What exactly is planned for Saturday?”
“A wedding. Afterward, I believe I will receive a final medication dose and suffer a fatal complication.”
“You believe?”
“I have a compounded pill, payment records, falsified medical findings, route manipulation, and transfer documents that benefit the same people.”
“Do you have evidence of a planned dose?”
“No.”
“Then we are not staging an armed federal intervention inside a fortified estate based on your interpretation.”
Massimo’s jaw tightened.
“What will you do?”
“Send me copies. We verify what we can. You keep the civilians away from the event.”
May you like
“The gates are watched.”
“Then create a reason for them to leave that does not expose your suspicion.”
