Chương 10
Vincent moved faster, though not more safely.
He gave Reed a copy of the card.
The original remained inside Sophie’s sneaker.
It was her idea.
“They searched me once,” she said. “They didn’t find it.”
Vincent looked at the loose sole. “They know about the card now.”
“They’ll search you.”
“She’s right,” Tony said.
Reed objected. “The child is not carrying evidence into an operation.”
“She isn’t going into an operation,” Vincent replied. “She stays here.”
“Then leave the card here in a secured evidence bag.”
Vincent looked at Sophie.
She shook her head.
“It stays in the shoe,” he said.
Reed’s eyes hardened. “You’re letting a traumatized child determine evidence protocol.”
“No. I’m letting the person who kept it safe continue keeping it safe.”
“That is sentimental nonsense.”
“Probably.”
It was the first time Reed had no immediate response.
At six thirty, Vincent changed into another black suit because the first smelled of diesel and stale diner coffee. He transferred the pistol to a shoulder holster and checked the magazine. Tony watched from the doorway of the old upstairs bedroom.
“You planning to trade the card?” Tony asked.
“No.”
“Then Sal kills Elena.”
“No.”
“You have a third option?”
“Find him before he checks.”
Tony entered and closed the door.
“We should give Reed control.”
“She doesn’t have control.”
“Neither do we.”
Vincent buttoned his cuff.
Tony sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress springs complained beneath him.
“Boss, I’ve done ugly things for you.”
Vincent looked at him in the mirror.
Tony continued. “I told myself there were lines. No kids. No women. No drugs. No people in trucks. That made everything else feel organized.”
“It wasn’t.”
“No.”
The admission remained in the room.
Tony rubbed the scar on his wrist. “Sal didn’t build this alone.”
“I know.”
“You say that now.”
Vincent turned.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want to know whether we’re saving one woman or protecting the story we tell ourselves.”
Vincent picked up his jacket.
“Tonight, one woman.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Ask me tomorrow.”
Tony gave a tired laugh. “You’re good at making tomorrow sound guaranteed.”
Downstairs, Marco examined satellite images and building plans at the dining table. Reed had left to coordinate with Brennan, promising nothing except that she would try to keep official units away until they knew whether Harlan was monitoring dispatch.
Teresa packed sandwiches into a paper bag.
Tony stared at her. “What’s that?”
“Food.”
“We’re going to a hostage exchange.”
“You skipped breakfast.”
Vincent took the bag.
Teresa gripped his wrist before he could leave.
“Bring the mother back.”
“That’s the plan.”
“I didn’t ask for the plan.”
Her eyes, cloudy with age but steady, searched his face.
“Bring her back,” she repeated.
Vincent nodded.
Sophie waited in the living room. The repaired turquoise sleeve pulled slightly at the seam when she crossed her arms.
Vincent stopped in front of her.
“I have to go.”
“You said that before.”
“This time I know where.”
“Maybe.”
“Yes. Maybe.”
She looked at his jacket. “Do you still have the money?”
He opened the inner pocket enough for her to see the folded bill.
“Don’t lose it.”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t give Mr. Sal my shoe.”
“I won’t.”
“Even if he says he’ll hurt her?”
Vincent crouched again.
“If he gets the card, he will kill her anyway.”
Sophie’s face went pale.
“He’ll kill everyone who can prove what he did,” Vincent continued. “Your mother knew that. That is why she gave it to you.”
“Then how do you save her?”
“By making him believe he still has a choice.”
“Does he?”
“No.”
The answer frightened her, but it also steadied something.
She reached toward him, hesitated, and straightened the edge of his charcoal shirt collar where it had folded beneath the jacket.
“My mom does that,” she said.
Then she stepped away.
Sal’s instructions came at seven two.
The exchange would take place at the old refrigerated warehouse. Vincent was to arrive with Tony only. No police. No Marco. The card would be inserted into a laptop, verified, and destroyed. Elena would be released afterward.
Sal did not mention Sophie.
That omission frightened Vincent more than a threat would have.
Marco drove separately, staying three vehicles behind. Reed and Brennan monitored from an unmarked car farther east, though Reed had made it clear she would intervene if she believed Elena faced immediate danger.
The warehouse crouched between a scrap yard and the black water of the creek. Its brick walls were stained with salt and age. Half the windows had been covered with plywood. A single exterior lamp illuminated the loading entrance.
Tony parked the Cadillac where instructed.
The engine continued idling.
“Your hand,” Vincent said.
Tony removed it from beneath his jacket.
“Habit.”
“Break it.”
“You first.”
They stepped out.
Cold wind moved off the water, carrying metal dust and rot. Somewhere beyond the building, a loose cable struck a pole at irregular intervals.
Dario opened the loading door.
The snake tattoo climbed from his collar to just beneath his jaw. He wore a dark work jacket and held a pistol low against his thigh.
“Mr. Torino.”
“You look older,” Vincent said.
Dario touched the tattoo. “You look the same.”
“That wasn’t praise.”
“Mr. Rinaldi said you’d come alone except for him.”
Tony spread his arms. “I’ve been promoted to exception.”
Dario searched them. He removed Vincent’s pistol, Tony’s pistol, two knives, a phone, and the paper bag Teresa had packed.
He opened the bag.
“Turkey sandwiches,” Tony said. “You want one?”
Dario dropped the bag onto the wet pavement.
Tony looked genuinely offended.
Inside, the warehouse smelled of old fish and coolant. Their footsteps echoed between empty racks. A row of hanging plastic curtains divided the loading floor from refrigerated rooms that no longer functioned.
May you like
Gus waited beside a folding table. His gold teeth flashed when he smiled.
Elena sat in a metal chair ten feet away, wrists bound behind her. Dried blood darkened one side of her face. Her hair hung loose and tangled. She wore a gray Bella Vista cleaning sweatshirt and black work pants. One shoe was missing.
