Chương 12
“He’s at Bella Vista.”
Elena inhaled sharply. “Sophie?”
“Safe,” Vincent said.
“Don’t bring her there.”
“I won’t.”
“Mr. Torino.”
“Yes.”
“If he gets it, he’ll burn the building.”
Reed asked, “How do you know?”
“I heard him tell Dario. Electrical fire. Old wiring. Staff inside makes it look real.”
The line went silent for several seconds.
“Elena?” Vincent said.
“I’m here.”
“Rest.”
“Bring my daughter.”
“I will.”
“Not if it costs somebody else’s.”
Vincent looked through the warehouse door toward the ambulance pulling away with Tony.
“That part may already be decided,” he said.
Reed drove because Vincent’s face had begun swelling and because she refused to let him control the vehicle. The Cadillac followed with one of Brennan’s officers at the wheel. Rain started during the trip, thin and cold, making the city lights smear across the windshield.
Vincent called Teresa.
“Sophie stays inside.”
“What happened?”
“Tony was shot.”
Teresa did not speak for a moment.
“Alive?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“The mother?”
“Alive.”
He heard Teresa sit down.
“Then bring her when the doctors allow it.”
“I will.”
“Where are you going?”
“Bella Vista.”
Teresa’s silence returned, different this time.
“Sal?”
“Yes.”
“Vincent, don’t confuse fixing this with punishing him.”
He watched traffic crawl past the window.
“I know the difference.”
“No, you know the words.”
She ended the call.
Reed kept both hands on the steering wheel. “She talks to you like that often?”
“Since I was sixteen.”
“Has it helped?”
“Not noticeably.”
A delivery cyclist cut between lanes and slapped the hood of a taxi that nearly struck him. The taxi driver leaned on his horn. For several seconds the street filled with pointless human anger.
Reed said, “If the ledger proves what Elena says, your companies are finished.”
“Yes.”
“Your accounts will be frozen. Properties seized. Every employee questioned. Every permit reviewed.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll be charged.”
“Yes.”
She glanced at him. “You’re agreeing too easily.”
“I’m saving time.”
“Men like you don’t surrender an empire because one child asks.”
“She didn’t ask for the empire.”
“What did she ask for?”
“Her mother.”
“And that changes everything?”
Vincent looked at the rain.
“No. It shows what was already true.”
Reed waited.
He continued. “Sal moved women through my trucks because he believed my rules were decoration. Harlan sent Sophie back because my name made the crime look internal. Milo watched and stayed quiet because he believed Sal spoke for me. Elena hid evidence in her daughter’s shoe because she trusted no one connected to my building.”
“And you didn’t know.”
“No.”
“Is that your defense?”
“It’s the indictment.”
Reed returned her attention to the road.
They parked half a block from Bella Vista.
The restaurant appeared closed. The front dining room was dark, chairs placed upside down on tables. The rear doorway glowed at the end of the alley, just as it had when Sophie pressed the money into Vincent’s palm.
The black Cadillac idled near the curb.
A storefront owner across the street pulled down a steel gate and locked it. He looked toward the restaurant, saw Vincent, and hurried away.
Reed checked her weapon. “Units are five minutes out.”
“Too long.”
“We wait.”
Vincent pointed toward the roofline. Smoke had begun slipping from a kitchen vent.
Reed swore.
They moved into the alley.
The restaurant’s rear door stood open. A plastic container of chopped onions lay overturned near the threshold. One of the kitchen employees, Luis, was on the floor inside with blood on his temple. He was breathing.
Reed crouched beside him.
“Basement,” he whispered. “They put everyone downstairs.”
“How many men?” Vincent asked.
“Two. Mr. Rinaldi and the tattoo guy.”
Dario had reached Bella Vista before them.
“Fire?” Reed asked.
“Office. They poured something.”
Vincent stepped over the threshold.
Reed caught his sleeve. “We go together.”
He looked at her hand.
“You are not in charge here,” she said.
“For five minutes,” Vincent replied, “neither are you.”
They moved through the kitchen. Smoke gathered near the ceiling but had not yet thickened. A line cook’s radio still played softly beside the stove. A pot of tomato sauce simmered unattended, small bubbles breaking the surface as if nothing had changed.
Vincent turned off the burner.
Reed looked at him.
“It’ll burn,” he said.
“That’s what concerns you?”
“It’s what was in front of me.”
They reached the office corridor.
The door to the wine cellar stood open. Light spilled up the stairs.
Vincent knew the layout intimately above ground and poorly below it. Elena had been right. He rarely entered the cellar. The old stone space smelled of cork, dust, and damp concrete. Metal shelves held wine bottles arranged by region and price. The furnace pipe ran along the rear wall.
Sal stood beside the loose brick with the paper ledger in his hand.
Dario held Marco’s missing pistol and watched the stairs.
Peter Harlan stood near the furnace, his badge clipped to his belt. He had removed his tie and rolled his shirtsleeves to the elbows. Sweat shone across his forehead.
Sal smiled when he saw Vincent.
“You brought the police after all.”
Reed stepped into view. “Put the ledger down.”
Harlan raised his weapon toward her.
“No,” Sal said.
Harlan looked at him.
Sal’s voice remained mild. “Not yet.”
Vincent descended the last step.
Dario aimed at his chest. “Stop there.”
Vincent stopped.
Smoke drifted down the stairwell behind them.
“Staff?” he asked.
“Locked in the storage room,” Sal replied. “They’ll be found tragically close to the electrical panel.”
“You always liked details.”
“They separate professionals from animals.”
Vincent looked at Dario’s snake tattoo and the blood drying near his ear.
“Sometimes,” Vincent said.
Sal held up the ledger. It was thick, bound in black cloth, its pages warped from moisture.
“Fourteen months,” Vincent said. “Under my name.”
“Under our name.”
“No.”
May you like
Sal laughed. “There it is. The sacred line. Gambling is business. Extortion is discipline. Bribery is relationship management. But women in trucks offend your sense of elegance.”
Harlan shifted his aim between Reed and Vincent.
