THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME HIDE MY BROKEN KNUCKLES WHILE SERVING HIS STEAK—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE TRAPPED THEM IN THE PANTRY LATCH,” BEFORE HE COULD EVEN UTTER A WORD. / Chapter 4 / 15

Chapter 4 - The Technician’s Cracked CodeBy 1:00 AM, the sub-basement holding vaults beneath the Chicago compound were freezing, smelling of damp limestone, iron rust, and old motor oil.

Julian Vance—the private forensic technician who had helped Camilla in the server room—sat zip-tied to an iron chair under the harsh glare of a single overhead halogen bulb.

His expensive Italian suit was soaked with sweat, his wire-rimmed glasses hanging crooked on his nose, his lower lip split from an initial interview with Marco.

The heavy iron vault door groaned open.

Matteo walked in, accompanied by me. I wore a clean, warm navy wool sweater provided by Mrs. Carter, my splinted left arm resting securely in a black canvas sling against my chest.

When Julian Vance saw Matteo, every drop of blood drained from his face, leaving him the color of wet chalk.

“Mr. Rossi... please,” Julian stammered, his teeth chattering in blind terror. “I was only hired to perform a routine data migration! Camilla told me it was obsolete surveillance footage! I didn't know it was your brother!”

Matteo didn't shout. He pulled a heavy wooden stool over, sitting down directly across from the trembling technician.

He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward until his face was inches from Julian’s.

“You told Camilla that she was acting like a fool, Julian,” Matteo murmured, his voice deadly and quiet. “You told her she was leaving evidence when she slammed the vault door onto Maya’s hand.”

Julian froze, his bloodshot eyes darting toward my sling.

“I... I tried to tell her to stop!”

“You watched an innocent woman’s bones break under two hundred pounds of reinforced steel,” Matteo whispered, each word dropping like an anvil onto the concrete. “And then you took two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to finish wiping the video of my brother drowning in the lake.”

Julian broke into violent, shuddering sobs, his forehead collapsing toward his knees.

“It was Arthur Vance! Camilla’s father!” Julian wept, the confession pouring out in desperate waves. “Arthur rammed Julian Rossi’s speedboat with his private yacht, The Valkyrie! Arthur wanted the deep-water dredging permits in Calumet Harbor! He told me that if the video ever surfaced, the federal grand jury would hand down murder indictments within forty-eight hours!”

Matteo reached into his vest, pulling out a printed satellite map of the Chicago shoreline.

“Where are the two speedboats waiting tonight, Julian?”

“The inner basin at Navy Pier!” Julian gasped, desperate to trade information for his life. “Two black Boston Whalers, six mercenaries armed with FN SCAR rifles and armor-piercing ammunition! The radio frequency is four-six-two point five-five! The signal to attack is Camilla sending a text message reading The roses are watered!”

Matteo stood up slowly, looking down at the broken technician with pure, unyielding disgust.

“Marco.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Have our maritime tactical team intercept the speedboats at Navy Pier. Take the mercenaries alive if possible. If they raise a barrel, sink them to the harbor floor.”