Chapter 4 - The Midnight Exchange
By one in the morning, the rain had cleared, leaving behind a cold, biting wind that whistled through the high iron gates of the Moretti estate.
The courtyard near the rear kennels was shrouded in total darkness. The single floodlight near the service gate had been intentionally unhooked, casting deep, impenetrable shadows across the slate paths and trimmed boxwoods.
Dominic stood inside the dark greenhouse, his dark wool overcoat wrapped tightly around his broad shoulders. Beside him stood Marco, holding a suppressed tactical pistol in his right hand.
Outside, in the dark pen, Bruno’s cage was empty. Victor Hale sat inside the cage, locked behind the iron bars, his hands zip-tied, a piece of heavy duct tape stretched across his mouth. His eyes were wide with terror as he watched the dark service lane beyond the fence.
At precisely 1:55 A.M., the faint hum of a low-rpm engine drifted over the stone wall.
A black sleek SUV pulled off the unpaved coastal road, dousing its headlights as it glided to a stop beside the greenhouse service gate. The driver’s side door opened quietly, and a man stepped out into the damp night air.
Paulie Moretti was thirty-eight, five years younger than Dominic, with sharp, fox-like features, slicked-back hair, and an expensive leather jacket that smelled of high-end Italian cologne. He carried a heavy leather briefcase in his gloved left hand.
Paulie walked up to the iron gate, looking around the dark courtyard nervously.
"Victor?" Paulie whispered into the shadows. "Victor, get out here. I don't have all night."
No answer came from the dark.
Paulie pulled a small penlight from his coat, clicking it on. The thin beam of white light swept across the wet gravel, passing over the greenhouse glass, then dropping onto the kennel building.
The light caught the iron bars of Bruno’s pen.
Paulie froze.
Sitting inside the cage, shivering in the cold, was Victor Hale, his eyes staring wildly at Paulie through the dark.
Before Paulie could turn and run, two heavy hands grabbed him from behind, slamming his body face-first against the cold iron of the service gate. His briefcase dropped into the mud with a dull thud.
"Going somewhere, Paulie?" Marco’s cold voice rasped in his ear.
Before Paulie could scream, Marco disarmed him, pulled his arms behind his back, and secured his wrists with steel handcuffs.
Dominic stepped out from the greenhouse shadows, his footsteps heavy and slow against the gravel. He picked up Paulie’s dropped leather briefcase, clicked open the brass latches, and turned it over.
A thick stack of printed documents, floor plans, and a keycard to the panic room spilled out onto the wet stone, right alongside a heavy suppressed 9mm pistol.
Dominic looked down at his cousin.
"Dominic... wait!" Paulie stammered, his face pressed flat against the wet iron gate, his voice high and shrill with panic. "It’s not what it looks like! I was... I was setting up a test! A security test for the estate! I brought the money to pay Victor to catch him!"
Dominic didn't answer. He walked up to his cousin, reaching out to grab him by the throat, lifting him three inches off the ground until Paulie’s shoes kicked uselessly in the air.
"You brought a gun into my house, Paulie," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a quiet, terrifying whisper that made the hair on Marco's neck stand up. "You bribed my staff. You tried to buy the codes to the room where I sleep."
"Dominic... please!" Paulie choked out, his eyes bulging as he fought for air. "We're blood! We're family! Your father was my uncle!"
"My father built this family on loyalty," Dominic said coldly. "He built it on protecting our own. You came into my home like a thief in the night, using a four-year-old child's mother as cover."
Dominic shoved Paulie backward. The younger man crashed onto the wet stone floor, coughing violently, clutching his throat.
"Marco," Dominic commanded.
"Yes, Boss?"
"Call a meeting of the Five Families Commission for ten o'clock tomorrow morning at the Sixth Avenue office," Dominic said, turning his back on his cousin. "Bring Paulie. Bring the briefcase. Bring the USB drive."
Paulie’s face went dead white. "No... Dominic, not the Commission! Please! They'll strip my territory! They'll exile me!"
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"Exile?" Dominic paused, looking back over his shoulder with eyes as black and empty as the night sky. "You tried to murder the head of the Moretti family in his own bed, Paulie. Exile is the mercy you won't be getting."
Dominic walked away, leaving Paulie sobbing in the mud as Marco’s enforcers dragged him toward the basement garage.
