Chapter 4 - The Queens Interrogation
The basement of Warehouse 9 near the East River smelled of salt water, damp concrete, and old iron.
A single overhead bulb swung gently from a frayed cord, casting harsh, shifting shadows across the cold floor.
Tied to a heavy wooden chair in the center of the room was Dr. Aris Thorne. He was a frail, sixty-year-old man with thin silver hair, wearing a expensive silk bathrobe over his pajamas. He was shaking violently, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
Standing in the shadows at the edge of the room was Vincent, dressed in a black turtleneck and dark trousers. Beside him stood Marco, holding a heavy iron crowbar.
"Mr. Caruso! Please!" Dr. Thorne wept, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "I didn't do anything wrong! I was retired! Your men snatched me from my bed!"
Vincent stepped out of the shadows, his face illuminated by the stark white light. He looked terrifying—a predator completely devoid of mercy.
He walked over to a small metal table, pulled out the three-year-old toxicologist report, and dropped it onto Thorne's lap.
"Read page two, Doctor," Vincent said, his voice flat, icy, and lethal.
Thorne looked down at the paper with trembling eyes. "This... this is the analysis of the crystal glass from your estate. I remembered it! It was VX-9 nerve agent! Imported from Europe!"
Vincent leaned down, putting his face inches from the old chemist's nose. "VX-9 is an oil-based compound, Doctor. It takes four to six minutes to absorb through the stomach lining to cause respiratory collapse."
Thorne swallowed hard, his skin turning a sickly shade of gray.
"My wife and daughter died in less than ninety seconds," Vincent whispered, his gray eyes flashing with an terrifying rage. "They dropped to the ground before I could even catch them. VX-9 doesn't act that fast. Cyanide salts do. Specifically, high-grade potassium cyanide mixed with an organic acid sweetener."
Thorne gasped, pressing his back hard against the wooden chair. "I... I don't know what you're talking about—"
Vincent didn't raise his voice. He simply held out his hand. Marco placed the heavy iron crowbar into Vincent's palm.
Vincent set the heavy tip of the bar gently on top of Thorne's right knee.
"Three years ago, my lieutenant, Daniel Mercer, paid you two million dollars to forge this report," Vincent said quietly. "He told you to write 'VX-9' so I would blame the Russian syndicate and start a war that would distract me while he consolidated control over my offshore accounts. Tell me I'm wrong, Doctor, and I will shatter your leg into fifty pieces."
Thorne broke instantly. The terror of facing Vincent Caruso in a dark room was far greater than any money Daniel had paid him.
"It was Daniel!" Thorne screamed, weeping hysterically, tears and snot pouring down his face. "It was Daniel Mercer! He brought me the sample! It wasn't VX-9! It was pure potassium cyanide! He forced me to forge the document! He said if I ever told anyone, he would murder my entire family!"
Vincent stood up slowly.
The crowbar slid from his hand, hitting the concrete floor with a deafening CLANG.
The truth, raw and horrifying, exploded inside Vincent's chest like a bomb.
It hadn't been an outside enemy. It hadn't been a rival syndicate. It hadn't even been a tragic mistake.
Daniel Mercer—the man Vincent had brought into his home, the man who had called him brother, the man who had stood beside him at Emily and Grace's funeral—had deliberately put potassium cyanide into Vincent's glass.
Daniel hadn't been trying to kill an enemy. Daniel had been trying to kill him—Vincent—to take over the Caruso empire. And when Grace had asked for her father's glass, and when Emily had taken a sip... Daniel had stood across the garden, watching a mother and her four-year-old child swallow fatal poison, and he had said nothing.
Vincent stood frozen in the dim basement, his breathing slow and heavy.
"Boss?" Marco asked softly, stepping forward, his hand resting on his sidearm. "What are your orders regarding Mercer?"
Vincent turned his head toward Marco. His face was no longer just angry. It was the face of a man who had stepped out of hell, fully prepared to bring hell with him.
"Do not touch Daniel yet," Vincent commanded softly. "He thinks he is safe. He thinks three years of silence bought him immunity. I want him to feel absolute victory... right before I strip everything from his life."
Vincent walked toward the exit stairs, stopping at the door. "Bring the doctor to the safehouse. Keep him alive. He will be our witness."
As Vincent stepped out into the night air of Queens, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
It was a text message from Claire:
Lily made a drawing for your desk. She says it's a guard dog to protect your office. We saved a slice of apple pie for you in the kitchen.
Vincent looked at the screen. The darkness in his heart, which had threatened to consume him whole after Thorne's confession, fought against a sudden, warm light.
May you like
He touched the screen, replying with three simple words:
I'm coming home.
