Chapter 6 - THE WINE CELLAR CONFESSION
The basement of the Moretti mansion smelled of damp stone, aging oak, and decades of spilled Cabernet. It was cold enough to see your breath in the dim, flickering light of the wall sconces. Reynolds sat tied to a wooden chair in the center of the room. His expensive Italian suit was wrinkled, his tie loosened, and sweat ran in thick beads down his forehead. Standing before him was Luca Moretti. Luca wasn't shouting. He was methodically cleaning a silver-plated hunting knife with a clean white handkerchief.Screech. The sound of the heavy iron door swinging open echoed through the cellar. Footsteps rang out on the stone floor. Luca didn't look up. "Did you get them settled?" Luca asked, knowing it was his head of security returning from escorting Natalie, Margaret, and little Leo out through the underground exit. "Safely on the road to Lake Geneva, boss," the guard replied. "The convoy has three decoy vehicles. Nobody will track them." "Good." Luca finally looked up from his knife. He stepped closer to Reynolds, the sharp blade glinting ominously under the yellow light. "Please, Luca—you've known me for twelve years!" Reynolds sobbed, his voice cracking hysterically. "I have a family! I have stocks, properties, a stake in the shipping company—we're partners!" "Partners don't help a terrorist syndicate kidnap a nine-year-old boy," Luca said calmly. He placed the flat of the blade against Reynolds's cheek, feeling the older man flinch violently. "Tell me about the Vanguard’s contact inside my estate." "I don't know names! I swear to God I don't!" Reynolds cried out. "They just called me on a burner phone! They said if I didn't let their delivery truck through the service gate tonight, they would release the audit files showing my embezzlement to the federal prosecutor!" Luca narrowed his eyes. "You embezzled from the Moretti syndicate?" Reynolds swallowed hard, tears streaming down his face. "It was... it was just a few millions to cover some bad stock investments! I was going to pay it back!" Luca let out a dry, humorless chuckle. He stepped back, sheathing the knife with a sharp snap. "You're a fool, Reynolds. Not because you stole from me—money can always be replaced." Luca walked over to a nearby wine rack, pulled out a bottle of 1982 Bordeaux, and uncorked it with an antique corkscrew. "You're a fool because you thought you could betray my trust and live to enjoy the profits." Before Reynolds could scream, the iron door banged open once more. Another enforcer rushed into the room, holding a encrypted tablet. "Boss! We intercepted an outgoing radio frequency from the second-floor guest wing!" Luca froze, the wineglass halfway to his lips. "I thought we jammed all frequencies in that wing." "We did, sir. But she wasn't using radio waves." The enforcer handed the tablet to Luca. "She was using the emergency landline hidden inside the old Victorian fireplace. She managed to dial out before the block took effect." Luca looked down at the tablet screen. A call-log transcript sat in bold red letters.Outgoing Call to: Vanguard Safehouse — Sector 4, Downtown Chicago.Duration: 42 seconds.Message recorded: "The boy is safe in suite 404, but Moretti found the letter. Execute Phase Two immediately. Burn the docks at midnight." Luca slowly set the wineglass down on a wooden barrel. The glass cracked under the slight excess of pressure from his grip. Red wine spilled across the wood, dripping onto the stone floor like fresh blood. "Phase Two," Luca muttered. He turned his gaze back to Reynolds, then toward the iron door leading up to the mansion. "Get the tactical teams ready," Luca commanded, his voice echoing off the damp walls. "We aren't waiting for them to make the next move."
