Chương 10
Rizzo looked up. “She’s right.”
Matteo gave him a cold glance.
“I remain allergic,” Rizzo said.
At three fifteen, a message arrived from an unknown number.
A photograph showed Nico seated on the floor in a windowless room. Beside his head stood a digital clock reading 3:14.
The text beneath it said:
Six means six. No police.
Marco knew about Keller.
Matteo’s gaze moved to the suite entrance, then to the windows, the guards, the hotel cameras.
“Who told him?” Sofia asked.
No one answered.
Only a handful of people knew the police had entered the suite: hotel security, Matteo’s guards, Hall, Rizzo, Enzo, and the officers themselves.
Marco had a source close enough to receive information within minutes.
Rizzo began calling the security desk.
Matteo stared at the initials Sofia had seen in the ledger.
E.R.
Not Rizzo.
Not Edward.
Enzo’s legal name was Enzo Raffaele Moretti.
Matteo called his uncle.
Enzo answered immediately. “Have you finished behaving like a child?”
“You told Marco about the police.”
A pause.
“I told him nothing he would not learn.”
“Where is Nico?”
“I have no interest in the boy.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Enzo exhaled. “Bring Sofia to the club. Marco gets his daughter. We preserve the agreement. The boy returns home. Everyone survives your crisis of conscience.”
Matteo looked at Sofia.
She was watching him now, understanding from his expression.
“You’re the payment in the ledger,” Matteo said.
Enzo did not respond.
“How much?”
“Do not insult me.”
“How much did Marco pay you to open Pier Nine?”
“This is larger than money.”
“It always becomes larger than money after someone takes it.”
Enzo’s voice hardened. “Your father built this family by understanding when sentiment had become dangerous. You are risking hundreds of men for a woman you met yesterday.”
“I met her yesterday because you sold her to me.”
“I arranged peace.”
“You arranged my murder.”
Rizzo looked up sharply.
Matteo continued. “Thursday. Pier Nine. Pulizia.”
The silence on the line became complete.
Sofia rose slowly from the sofa.
Enzo spoke at last. “You do not know what you saw.”
“I didn’t see it. Sofia did.”
Matteo watched the truth reach his uncle: the silent bride had not been silent because she knew nothing.
Enzo recovered quickly. “Then Marco was right to discipline her.”
Matteo ended the call.
Rizzo was already closing files and reaching for his weapon.
“Enzo knows we know,” he said. “Pier Nine has to be locked down now.”
“Do it.”
“We’ll need men from three crews.”
“Use only captains Enzo never promoted.”
“That leaves us with idiots and pessimists.”
“Today I prefer pessimists.”
Rizzo left with half the security team.
The suite felt suddenly too large.
Sofia stood near the table. “Your uncle was going to help kill you.”
“Yes.”
“And you still think my father wants me back because of the marriage?”
Matteo looked at her.
“He wants to know what I copied,” she said. “Nico doesn’t have the only copy.”
Matteo went still.
“Where is it?”
She touched the diamond necklace on the table.
He crossed the room and picked it up.
The piece was old, a row of square-cut diamonds in a platinum setting. Heavy. Elaborate. Marco had insisted she wear it throughout the reception.
“My grandmother gave it to me when I was twelve,” Sofia said. “The clasp was replaced last year.”
Matteo examined the fastener.
“Inside.”
He used the tip of a fruit knife to pry open a thin metal panel hidden beneath the clasp. A memory card smaller than his fingernail slid into his palm.
“You wore this all night.”
“My father never lets anyone else handle the necklace. He thought that made it safe.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know whether you were in the ledger.”
The answer was reasonable.
It still stung.
Matteo brought the card to the laptop. The files were encrypted.
“Nico chose the password,” Sofia said.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Matteo looked at her.
“He wouldn’t tell me. He said if my father asked, I couldn’t give up something I didn’t know.”
“That is either clever or irritating.”
“He’s both.”
They searched the card’s visible directories. One contained a text file labeled READ ME, which opened without a password.
The message read:
Sof, if you got this far, Dad found out and everything is terrible. Password is the thing you always steal from me plus Grandma’s birthday. No spaces. Please don’t say I never do anything for you.
Sofia stared at the screen.
“What do you steal?” Matteo asked.
“Nothing.”
He waited.
She looked offended. “His fries.”
“Password?”
She typed fries0218.
The files opened.
Hundreds of photographs filled the directory. Ledger pages, invoices, shipping schedules, names, account numbers. Some were blurred or crooked. Nico’s thumb appeared in several corners. One image showed half a sandwich resting on Marco’s desk.
Human espionage, Matteo thought. Dangerous work conducted beside lunch.
Sofia found the page marked with Pier Nine.
The shipment was listed under a shell medical supplier. Its weight was too high for equipment. Beside the date were three sets of initials: M.D., E.R.M., and P.S.
Marco DeLuca. Enzo Raffaele Moretti. Paul Serra.
A second page listed payments to six Moretti employees. Two were dead. One had recently transferred to Pier Nine security.
Matteo photographed the screen and sent the evidence to Rizzo.
Another file contained audio.
Sofia hesitated before opening it.
Marco’s voice filled the room.
“If Moretti survives the terminal, the alliance continues. If he doesn’t, we blame the Albanians and take emergency control. Either way, Sofia stays in the house.”
Enzo replied, “She will be his wife.”
“She will be where I tell her.”
“You said she understood.”
“She understands pain.”
The recording ended.
Sofia sat down.
Her face showed no surprise. That was worse.
Matteo closed the laptop.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She stared at the black screen. “For what?”
“For believing you understood the arrangement.”
“I did understand it.”
May you like
“No. You understood the threat.”
She looked at him then.
