Chapter 7 - The Uninvited Guest
The peace didn't last into the weekend. On Saturday evening, while Alec was reviewing the international shipping schedules from his penthouse apartment, his encrypted personal line rang. It was an unlisted number that bypassed his primary security screening—a frequency that only three people in the world possessed.
He answered, his voice dropping into a lethal chill. "Speak."
"Alec... my boy. You’ve been very busy since I went away," came a raspy, familiar voice that made Alec’s hand tighten around the receiver until his knuckles turned translucent.
It was Arthur Vance. His father.
The senior Vance was supposed to be in a high-security federal medical facility in upstate New York, serving a life sentence for racketeering and corporate conspiracy. The official reports stated he was suffering from terminal heart failure, too weak to hold a telephone, let alone access an encrypted satellite frequency.
"You shouldn't be on this line, Arthur," Alec said, his voice flat, devoid of any filial emotion. "The facility has a three-layer isolation protocol. Who did you bribe?"
"A dying man doesn't need to bribe anyone, Alec," Arthur chuckled, a wet, rattling sound that ended in a sharp cough. "The doctors say I have less than a month before the engine completely gives out. But I couldn't leave this world without seeing how you’ve handled my legacy. I saw the news about Pier 42. You ruined Thomas Rossi for a few tons of steel? You’re thinking like a store clerk, boy. My captains need to eat if you want them to keep the dogs off your lawn."
"Your captains were stealing from the foundation, Arthur," Alec said, walking over to his computer console and initializing a real-time trace on the call signal. "The old ways are over. The system is clean now. Your red ledgers are deleted."
"You think they're deleted because that pretty little hacker told you so?" Arthur hissed, his tone turning vicious. "You always were too soft for this life, Alec. You think you can build a kingdom using spreadsheets and cookies? The Maroni family just moved three hundred men into Queens. They know I’m dying, and they know you’ve spent twelve million dollars of your liquid reserves to buy the love of a group of ironworkers. They’re coming for the Williamsburg site, Alec. And when they tear it down, that little girl’s bright yellow raincoat won't protect her from the rain."
The line went dead before the trace could pinpoint the location.
May you like
Alec stood motionless in the center of his dark living room, the phone still in his hand. The threat wasn't a surprise—the Maronis had been probing his perimeters for months—but the fact that his father was still coordinating with his old rivals from a federal bed meant the internal purge hadn't been as complete as he thought.
He hit the speed dial for his security detail. "Victor. Get a tactical team to Clara’s apartment now. Move her and Mia to the executive suite in the tower. We’re going to a maximum-security protocol."
