Chapter 4 - The Price of Silence
Damien locked the library doors.
Victoria remained near the fireplace.
Carlo lowered himself into a chair.
For the first time in Damien’s life, his uncle looked old.
“Start talking,” Damien said.
Carlo looked at Victoria.
“She shouldn’t be here.”
“She already knows more than I do.”
“That was intentional.”
Damien’s eyes hardened.
“Whose intention?”
“Your father’s.”
The name sat between them.
Salvatore Russo.
Feared.
Respected.
Dead.
Damien had spent most of his adult life trying to become the man his father expected.
He suddenly wondered if he had spent all those years becoming a lie.
Carlo rubbed his hands.
“Eight years ago, Salvatore discovered a problem at the docks.”
“What problem?”
“Federal pressure. Internal theft. Calabresi expansion.”
“Which?”
“All three.”
Victoria said quietly, “My father wanted the East River terminals.”
Carlo nodded.
“Salvatore wanted peace.”
“So he paid them two million a year.”
“Partly.”
“What was the rest?”
Carlo looked at Damien.
“Protection.”
“For who?”
Carlo hesitated.
Damien slammed his palm against the table.
“For who?”
“You.”
Damien stared.
“That makes no sense.”
“Your father had enemies inside his own organization.”
“Names.”
“Some are dead.”
“Names.”
Carlo looked toward the door as if expecting ghosts to enter.
“Frank Marino’s father. Anthony Costa. Raymond Russo.”
Damien frowned.
“Raymond was my godfather.”
“Yes.”
“And Frank’s father died loyal to us.”
“That’s what you were told.”
Victoria watched silently.
Carlo continued.
“They planned to remove Salvatore. Then you.”
“Why?”
“Because Salvatore wanted to reduce narcotics operations and move into legitimate shipping.”
Damien almost laughed.
“My father ordered half the city buried.”
“He changed near the end.”
“I never saw it.”
“He didn’t let you.”
Damien began pacing.
“What does Jackie have to do with this?”
“He was transporting records for Salvatore.”
“What records?”
Carlo looked at him.
“Proof.”
“Of the coup?”
“And the payments.”
Damien stopped.
“Why pay Calabresi?”
“Antonio Calabresi agreed to protect you if Salvatore died.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
Damien turned toward her.
“Your father was paid to keep me alive?”
“At first.”
“At first?”
Victoria looked at Carlo.
Carlo sighed.
“After Salvatore died, Antonio changed the arrangement.”
“How?”
“The payments continued.”
“In exchange for what?”
Victoria answered.
“A future merger.”
Damien understood.
“The marriage.”
“Yes.”
His engagement had not begun six months earlier.
It had begun over his father’s grave.
“Did you know this when you agreed to marry me?”
Victoria met his eyes.
“Yes.”
Damien felt anger rise.
“Everything?”
“No.”
“How much?”
“That my father had an old agreement with yours. That the marriage would finalize it.”
“Did you know Jackie was killed?”
“No.”
Damien studied her.
She looked sincere.
He no longer trusted sincerity.
“Carlo.”
His uncle looked up.
“Who framed Jackie?”
“Frank created the financial trail.”
“On whose order?”
Carlo swallowed.
“Your father.”
The room went still.
Damien stared at him.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“Salvatore believed Jackie had stolen one of the documents.”
“He ordered Jackie killed?”
Carlo’s eyes filled with something Damien had never seen there.
Regret.
“Yes.”
The answer hollowed out the room.
Damien turned away.
He remembered Jackie.
On his knees.
Crying.
Telling Damien his son needed breathing equipment.
Damien had thought he was lying.
But Jackie had not been lying.
Not about Toby.
Maybe not about anything.
“And I carried it out.”
Carlo said nothing.
Damien’s hands curled into fists.
His father had used him.
Not just as successor.
As executioner.
Victoria stepped closer.
“Damien.”
“Don’t.”
She stopped.
Carlo said, “Jackie did steal a document.”
“Why?”
“We never found out.”
“Sophie said he knew someone was skimming.”
Carlo shook his head.
“He found something worse.”
“What?”
“He discovered the original agreement contained a second clause.”
Damien turned.
“What clause?”
Carlo looked at Victoria.
She looked confused.
“You don’t know?” Carlo asked.
“No.”
Carlo stood.
“Then Antonio never told you.”
“Tell me what?”
Carlo hesitated.
Damien’s phone rang.
Marco.
Damien answered immediately.
“I found Jackie’s storage unit.”
“Where?”
“Brooklyn.”
“How?”
“He paid six months in advance under Sophie’s maiden name.”
“Is it still there?”
“Yes.”
“Open it.”
“I already did.”
Damien waited.
Marco’s voice changed.
“Boss, you need to come here.”
“What did you find?”
“Documents.”
“What documents?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Read one.”
Paper moved on the other end.
Marco went silent.
“Marco.”
Nothing.
“Marco.”
A noise sounded.
Then Marco whispered, “Someone’s here.”
The call went dead.
Damien ran.
Frank was nowhere inside the estate.
Neither was his vehicle.
Damien drove toward Brooklyn with two trusted men.
Victoria demanded to come.
He refused.
Sophie called while he was driving.
“Toby’s stable.”
“Good.”
“Damien, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Jackie used to keep a key.”
Damien tightened his grip on the wheel.
“What kind?”
“Small brass key. Number 417.”
“Why are you telling me now?”
“Because I just remembered where he said it belonged.”
“Where?”
“A storage facility near the Brooklyn Navy Yard.”
Damien’s stomach tightened.
“Stay with Toby.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Stay inside.”
He hung up.
The storage facility was silent when Damien arrived.
Unit 417 stood open.
Marco’s laptop lay shattered on the floor.
Blood streaked the concrete.
But Marco was gone.
Damien entered the unit.
Boxes had been torn apart.
Documents scattered everywhere.
One photograph lay untouched.
Damien picked it up.
It showed Jackie outside a restaurant.
Beside him stood Salvatore Russo.
And Frank Marino.
Damien turned the picture over.
Jackie had written one sentence on the back.
IF THEY KILL ME, ASK FRANK WHO REALLY ORDERED SALVATORE’S DEATH.
A sound came from the darkness behind the storage unit.
Damien raised his head.
Someone whispered his name.
“Damien.”
May you like
Frank stepped into the light.
And there was blood on his shirt.
