Chapter 5 - The Dismantling of the Syndicate
The night air over the Hudson River tasted of ozone, cheap gunpowder, and impending doom. By 4:00 AM, the cold mist had cleared, replaced by the red and blue flashing lights of private emergency transports and the heavy, synchronized thud of rotor blades as Moretti’s private transport helicopters lifted off from the estate’s clandestine pad.
Inside the subterranean command bunker beneath the main manor, three massive digital monitors cast an eerie green glow across Alessandro Moretti’s face.
Marco Bellini stood beside him, dropping a thick stack of intercepted encrypted comm logs and financial manifests onto the metal desk.
“We hit their primary terminal in Red Hook thirty minutes ago,” Marco reported, his voice steady and clinical. “The container ships registered to Viktor Vance’s shell companies were boarded before customs even woke up. All forty containers of contraband electronics and untaxed firearms are currently sitting at the bottom of the slip, courtesy of a controlled ballast flood.”
Alessandro didn't look up from the screen. His fingers tapped a slow, rhythmic tattoo against the steel armrest of his chair. “And Sal Marino?”
May you like
“His safehouse in Bay Ridge was secured twenty minutes ago,” Marco continued, a grim smile touching the corner of his mouth. “Sal tried to climb out a bathroom window in his underwear. He’s currently tied to a metal folding chair in the lower cold storage room, waiting for your personal inspection.”
Alessandro stood up, adjusting the cuffs of his black shirt. “Let’s go see how much courage our former capo has left now that his patron in Chicago isn't answering his phone.”
