Chapter 10 - Wiretaps Beneath the Floorboards
Don Carmine Bellini sat in the leather armchair for sixty agonizing seconds, his
chest heaving, staring at the armored SUVs surrounding his convoy outside.
The realization of total, catastrophic defeat settled over his aged features
like a shroud.
“What do you want, Luca?” Carmine croaked, his voice suddenly sounding frail,
stripped of every ounce of venom.
“An unconditional surrender,” Luca said, his voice flat and absolute. “You will
sign the asset transfer documents Daniel has prepared. You will surrender all
maritime licenses for the Port of Gary. And you and Vanessa will board a private
transport to an undisclosed estate in Montana tonight. You will never set foot
in Cook County again.”
Carmine’s hands trembled violently as he reached into his breast pocket for his
pen.
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I hand this folder to the federal agents waiting at the end of my
driveway,” Luca said. “And you spend the rest of your natural life in a supermax
facility in Florence, Colorado.”
Carmine stared at the paperwork laid before him. With shaking fingers, he signed
his name on three separate title deeds, surrendering the entire Bellini
territory to the Moretti family.
When the last page was signed, Daniel stepped forward, gathered the documents,
and gestured toward the door.
“Your car is waiting, Don Carmine,” Daniel said.
The old man rose slowly, his legs trembling beneath him, leaning heavily on his
gold-headed cane. He didn't look at Luca. He shuffled out of the library like a
broken ghost, flanked by two armed Moretti guards.
The heavy library doors clicked shut.
I stepped out from behind the velvet drapes of the study, my knees still shaking
from the sheer magnitude of what I had just witnessed.
Luca remained seated behind his desk. He leaned his head back against the
leather headrest, closing his eyes, and exhaled a long, ragged breath that
seemed to release years of tension from his shoulders.
“It’s over,” I whispered, stepping into the center of the room.
Luca slowly opened his eyes, looking up at me.
“Almost,” he murmured.
He stood up, walked around the desk, and stopped in front of me. The imposing,
terrifying Don was gone; in his eyes was only deep exhaustion and a quiet,
profound relief.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small electronic receiver with a
blinking green LED light.
“What is that?” I asked.
“A radio frequency scanner,” Luca explained, holding the small device near the
base of the floorboards beneath his desk.
The scanner emitted a sharp, high-pitched screech.
Luca crouched down, slipped a pocketknife between the seams of the oak
baseboard, and popped a small section of wood loose.
Tucked into the hollow space behind the wood was a miniature, high-frequency
surveillance transmitter.
“Vanessa,” Luca said, plucking the tiny bug from the wall and crushing it
beneath the heel of his leather boot. “She planted it during our engagement
dinner planning three weeks ago. She was listening to every word spoken in this
room.”
“Then she heard everything Carmine just signed,” I realized, my heart jumping.
“Yes,” Luca said, standing up. “Which means she knows her father surrendered.
And a cornered Bellini never goes down quietly.”
Before Luca could bring his phone to his ear, a sudden, muffled gunshot echoed
from the east wing of the mansion.
The alarm system shrieked to life, red emergency lights flashing across the
ceiling of the library.
Daniel’s voice crackled through the intercom, breathless and panicked:
May you like
“Boss! Vanessa overpowered the guard in the guest pavilion! She got his sidearm!
She’s heading for the master suite!”
