Chapter 7 - LEVERAGE
Tessa read the message three times.
Then she turned toward the door.
Vincent grabbed her wrist.
“Where are you going?”
“To get my sister.”
“Alone?”
“If I have to.”
“You’ll get both of you killed.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know people who kidnap sick women aren’t planning an honest exchange.”
Tessa pulled her wrist free.
Vincent let go immediately.
Her anger collapsed into fear.
“Maya can’t miss dialysis.”
“How long?”
“By tomorrow morning she’ll start getting sick.”
Vincent nodded.
“We get her back before then.”
Tessa looked at him.
“You say that like you can guarantee it.”
“No.”
“I say it because panic wastes time.”
Marco stepped forward.
“They said no Marco.”
Vincent looked at him.
“So you won’t come.”
Dominic understood.
“You’re going?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t just roll into the harbor at midnight.”
Vincent’s gaze hardened.
“Watch me.”
Tessa said, “Absolutely not.”
He looked at her.
“They asked for me.”
“Because they want you there.”
“Exactly.”
“Which is why you shouldn’t go.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
“Would you stay here if they took me?”
Tessa stopped.
He saw the answer.
“No.”
“Then stop asking me to do what you wouldn’t.”
The room went quiet.
Dominic looked between them.
Something passed across his face.
Recognition.
Vincent ignored it.
“We make them believe their conditions are met.”
he said.
“No visible security.”
“No police.”
“Marco stays off site.”
Marco nodded.
“Snipers?”
“No.”
Tessa looked surprised.
Vincent continued.
“If they know enough to identify your sister and her schedule, they know Marco’s people too.”
Dominic said, “Then what’s the plan?”
Vincent wheeled to the desk.
“We use the one advantage they keep forgetting.”
“What?”
Vincent looked down at his legs.
“They think I’m weak.”
No one responded.
Vincent smiled without humor.
“They’ll prepare for Marco.”
“For you.”
“For armed men.”
“They won’t prepare for Tessa.”
Tessa stared.
“I’m a nurse aide.”
“Exactly.”
“That isn’t reassuring.”
“You notice details.”
“You don’t panic under pressure.”
“You’ve transferred two hundred pounds of angry Italian from a bed to a wheelchair without dropping him.”
Dominic laughed despite himself.
Vincent ignored him.
“And nobody looks at you twice.”
Tessa looked offended.
“That sounded insulting.”
“It’s useful.”
Marco stepped closer.
“What are you thinking?”
Vincent outlined it.
They would take one vehicle.
Tessa driving.
Vincent in the passenger transfer seat.
No escort.
But before going, Marco would place three independent trackers.
One on the vehicle.
One in Vincent’s chair.
One sewn into Tessa’s coat.
Dominic would monitor remotely from the mansion.
Marco would position teams several blocks away without entering the harbor zone unless Vincent sent a signal.
“What signal?”
Tessa asked.
Vincent looked at Marco.
“The old one.”
Marco frowned.
“No.”
Dominic looked confused.
“What old one?”
“When we were kids.”
Vincent said.
“If Dad thought a meeting might go bad, he’d call the house and ask whether Mother had fed the dog.”
Dominic remembered.
“We never had a dog.”
“Exactly.”
Tessa nodded.
“Simple.”
Marco did not look convinced.
“There’s another issue.”
“What?”
“If Matteo is behind this, he may know the signal.”
Vincent considered it.
“Then we create a new one.”
Tessa looked around.
“How?”
Vincent thought of the first morning she had challenged him over the pain scale.
He looked at her.
“Four.”
She understood immediately.
“If I say my pain is four.”
Marco asked, “Why four?”
Tessa answered.
“Because he lies about it.”
Vincent gave her a look.
“Works.”
They prepared for five hours.
Vincent insisted on dressing himself as much as possible.
Dark trousers.
Black shirt.
Shoulder holster.
Tessa protested the gun.
He ignored her.
At 11:20 p.m., they left the mansion.
Chicago glittered beyond the windshield.
For six months Vincent had rarely gone farther than hospitals, therapy appointments, and controlled drives.
The city looked different at night from a wheelchair-accessible vehicle.
Lower.
Faster.
Less forgiving.
Tessa kept both hands on the wheel.
Neither spoke for several minutes.
Then she said, “You didn’t have to come.”
“Yes, I did.”
“No.”
“You chose to.”
Vincent looked out the window.
“There’s a difference.”
“Yes.”
“Which is?”
“One makes you a victim of the situation.”
“The other makes you responsible for the decision.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You always talk like a therapist?”
“I can start charging thirty-five an hour.”
He almost smiled.
Then her hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“If anything happens to Maya—”
“We’ll get her.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
Vincent’s voice softened.
“But whoever took her needs something from me.”
“That keeps her alive until they get it.”
Tessa swallowed.
“What do they want?”
“Black Crown.”
“You don’t have it.”
“They may think I do.”
“And if they realize you don’t?”
Vincent looked toward the industrial darkness ahead.
“Then we become less valuable.”
The harbor spread before them.
Warehouses.
Rail lines.
Stacks of containers.
Orange industrial lights reflecting across wet pavement.
The address in the message led them to Warehouse 18.
One of the original Corvino properties.
Vincent remembered visiting it with his father at fourteen.
Salvatore had told him never to trust a building with only one exit.
Warehouse 18 had four.
Tessa parked.
The building doors opened automatically.
“Convenient.”
she whispered.
“Nothing about this is convenient.”
Vincent transferred into his wheelchair.
The process took longer than he wanted.
Tessa helped without comment.
They entered.
The warehouse was empty.
No visible guards.
No Maya.
A single chair sat beneath a hanging light.
On it rested an old black ledger.
Vincent’s chest tightened.
Tessa whispered, “Is that it?”
“I don’t know.”
They approached.
The ledger looked decades old.
Leather cover.
No title.
Vincent reached for it.
A voice came through speakers overhead.
“I wouldn’t.”
Vincent stopped.
Male.
Calm.
Not distorted.
He had never heard it before.
Tessa looked around.
“Where’s Maya?”
“She’s safe.”
“Show me.”
A screen illuminated on the far wall.
Live video.
Maya lay in what appeared to be a clinic room.
An IV line ran into her arm.
A dialysis machine stood beside her.
Tessa exhaled sharply.
“She’s being treated.”
the voice said.
“I’m not cruel.”
Vincent looked toward the camera.
“You kidnapped a woman from dialysis.”
“I’m practical.”
“Who are you?”
The screen changed.
A man appeared.
Early forties.
Dark hair streaked with gray.
Elegant suit.
Strong jaw.
Vincent stared.
The resemblance was not obvious at first.
Then the man tilted his head.
Salvatore used to do that.
Dominic did too.
The man smiled.
“Hello, little brother.”
Tessa looked at Vincent.
“Matteo.”
Vincent said.
“Good.”
The man sounded pleased.
“Marco finally told you.”
“Where are you?”
“Closer than he would like.”
Vincent looked around.
“What do you want?”
“The ledger.”
Vincent glanced at the chair.
“You already have it.”
Matteo laughed.
“That is a copy.”
“Of what?”
“Your father’s sins.”
Vincent’s voice hardened.
“You shot me.”
Matteo’s smile vanished.
“No.”
“Who did?”
“That is the question you should have asked Lauren before falling in love with her.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“Answer me.”
“You still think the bullet was intended for Dominic.”
Vincent said nothing.
Matteo continued.
“It wasn’t.”
The warehouse seemed to close around him.
“You left the photograph saying the wrong brother was shot.”
“No.”
Vincent stared.
Matteo leaned closer to the camera.
“I left you nothing.”
Tessa whispered, “Someone else.”
Vincent felt the structure of the mystery fracture again.
Matteo continued.
“Whoever is feeding you clues wants us fighting.”
“Then why take Maya?”
“Because I needed you to come without Marco.”
“You could have called.”
“You wouldn’t have believed me.”
“I still don’t.”
“You will.”
The screen changed again.
Security footage.
Night of the shooting.
Different angle.
Vincent leaving the restaurant.
Lauren under the awning.
Marco near the car.
Then another figure appeared across the street.
Arthur Calder.
Vincent leaned forward.
Calder spoke briefly to a man beneath an umbrella.
The man turned.
Dominic.
Tessa inhaled.
Vincent stared.
Dominic had told him he was in New York that night.
He had even sent photographs from Manhattan.
The timestamp was unmistakable.
11:42 p.m.
Three minutes before the shot.
Matteo’s voice returned.
“Your brother was there.”
Vincent felt something inside him crack.
“Why?”
“I suggest you ask him.”
“Is Dominic working with you?”
“No.”
“Calder?”
“No.”
“Lauren?”
Matteo smiled slightly.
“Lauren works for herself.”
“And you?”
“I’m trying to stay alive.”
Vincent laughed bitterly.
“You kidnap my caregiver’s sister to stay alive?”
“I protected her.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t send flowers.”
Matteo’s expression changed.
“Your father tried to kill me twice.”
“I never met you.”
“Exactly.”
Something behind Vincent clicked.
Tessa turned.
The warehouse doors had locked.
Vincent reached for his pistol.
Matteo spoke quickly.
“Don’t.”
A mechanical sound came from beneath the floor.
Part of the concrete platform began to move.
A hidden freight elevator.
Tessa stepped back.
Vincent stared.
The platform descended.
Below them stretched a tunnel.
Old brick.
Steel tracks.
And rows of locked filing cabinets.
Matteo’s voice came through speakers below.
May you like
“Welcome to Black Crown.”
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