Chapter 5 - Fire on the Docks
At 3:00 PM, a heavy snowstorm blew over Boston's harbor. Pier 14 was shrouded in gray mist and white flakes.
Inside the quiet union office overlooking the freezing ocean, Sal Vicari stood by the window, smoking a cigar. His four men were stationed near the doors, heavy pistols tucked into their coats, waiting for a widow and a six-year-old girl to walk through the door.
Instead, the front double doors were kicked open with a thunderous CRACK.
The wooden frame shattered. Snow and ice rushed into the warm room, followed instantly by six heavily armed men clad in black tactical gear.
Before Vicari’s men could even reach for their holsters, they were pinned against the walls, their weapons ripped from their hands, cold gun barrels pressed firmly against their temples.
Through the doorway walked Alessandro Moretti.
He wore a long black wool overcoat. He carried no weapon in his hands. His posture was relaxed, his face carved out of stone as he stepped over the splintered wood of the door.
Behind him walked Matteo, his top enforcer, holding a thick leather briefcase.
"Alessandro!" Vicari gasped, dropping his cigar as he backed against his desk. "What the hell is this?! This is neutral union ground!"
"You sent a letter to my house, Sal," Alessandro said smoothly, stopping three feet away from the desk. "You invited my guests to an ambush."
Vicari swallowed hard, sweat breaking out on his forehead despite the freezing wind blowing through the open door. "They aren't your family, Moretti! She’s just a maid! You’re going to war with the Falcone family over a dock worker’s widow?!"
Alessandro looked at Vicari with eyes that contained no warmth, no mercy, and no fear.
"Eighteen years ago, I built a wall around my life," Alessandro said softly, his voice echoing in the chilly office. "I believed every human being on this earth was rotten. I believed everyone had a price. I thought if you put enough money on a table, anyone would steal, anyone would betray, anyone would kill."
He stepped closer to Vicari, towering over him.
"And then a child who had nothing—a child shivering in torn shoes—took her only coat and laid it over my shoulders because she thought I was cold," Alessandro continued, his voice dropping into an icy whisper. "She showed me something men like you and I forgot a long time ago. She showed me grace."
Alessandro gestured to Matteo. Matteo stepped forward and slapped the heavy leather briefcase onto the desk, opening the latches with a sharp SNAP.
Inside the briefcase lay fifty thousand dollars in neat, banded stacks, alongside a signed deed to the Pier 14 union hall.
"This is Daniel Rossi's unpaid pension," Alessandro said coldly. "And this is the deed to this pier. You are signing both over to Sophia Rossi today. Right now."
Vicari stared at the money, then at the guns pointed at his men's heads. "And if I don't?"
Alessandro leaned down, his face inches from Vicari's.
May you like
"If you don't, Sal, I will strip you of everything you own, bury you under this pier, and make sure no one ever hears your name again. Sign the papers."
Ten seconds later, Vicari’s shaking hand held a pen, signing his name across the bottom of every document.
