Chapter 5 - THE MAN INSIDE THE FAMILY FLOOR
Carlo Russo arrived at Apex Tower the following morning as if nothing had changed.
That was his mistake.
Damian watched from the security room while his uncle stepped from the private elevator.
Dark green tie.
Camel overcoat.
Silver walking stick he did not medically need.
Carlo greeted reception.
Complimented the temporary secretary’s earrings.
Then entered the family floor.
Hazel stood beside Damian wearing black trousers and a dark sweater.
No cardigan.
No contract folders.
A shoulder holster rested beneath her jacket.
Damian noticed it every few minutes.
“I’m not used to you carrying a gun.”
“You were never supposed to notice.”
“That appears to be a recurring theme.”
Hazel glanced at him.
Pale hazel eyes.
He knew their color now.
That fact irritated him for reasons he did not examine.
Grant entered.
“We traced the corridor assassin.”
“Name?”
“Cole Renner.”
Hazel nodded.
“I suspected.”
Damian looked at her.
“You know him?”
“Reputation.”
Grant placed a file down.
“Former contractor. Eastern Europe, Middle East, private recovery work. Expensive.”
“Current location?”
“Unknown.”
“Payment?”
“Three shell corporations. Last one eventually touches a construction company controlled by Carlo.”
Damian’s jaw tightened.
“Enough?”
“For a subpoena if we were cops.”
“We are not.”
Hazel looked at him.
“That sentence is why I insisted on conditions.”
Damian ignored her.
Grant continued.
“The car device used components purchased through another Carlo-linked vendor.”
Two attempts.
Both connected indirectly.
Still circumstantial.
Damian stared at Carlo on the monitor.
“Bring him to my office.”
Hazel said, “No.”
Damian turned.
She met his eyes.
“Too soon.”
“My father—”
“I know.”
“My father was poisoned.”
“Probably.”
“My uncle paid the doctor.”
“Yes.”
“My uncle paid someone after your father’s crash.”
“Yes.”
“And you want me to wait?”
“Yes.”
Damian stepped closer.
“You do not tell me how to respond to my father’s murder.”
Hazel did not move.
“No.”
Her voice remained calm.
“I tell you how not to ruin the only chance we have to prove it.”
Silence.
Grant wisely stayed out.
Hazel continued.
“If Carlo thinks you know, records disappear.”
“He already tried killing me.”
“He thinks those attempts failed without exposure.”
“He removed Renner.”
“Probably.”
“We can arrest him.”
“With what authority?”
Damian said nothing.
Hazel leaned closer.
“You can kill him.”
Grant stiffened.
Damian’s eyes narrowed.
Hazel continued.
“You have men who would do it tonight.”
“Yes.”
“And then what?”
“He stops trying to kill me.”
“True.”
Her voice hardened.
“And my father becomes another dead man whose story never reaches daylight.”
That landed.
Hazel did not want revenge.
Not only.
She wanted truth.
Damian understood unexpectedly.
For fifteen years his world solved betrayal by removing betrayers.
Efficient.
Final.
It also buried answers.
“Fine,” he said.
Hazel’s eyebrows lifted.
“Fine?”
“We wait.”
Grant exhaled.
“Wonderful. Growth.”
Damian glared.
Grant stopped smiling.
The plan was simple.
Carlo believed Damian was investigating Bastian.
Let him.
Bastian agreed to play insulted rival because he enjoyed theater and because Carlo’s gun-running network threatened his own territory.
Damian publicly increased security around Mercer-facing operations.
Meanwhile Hazel and Grant audited family-floor access.
Three people besides Carlo repeatedly entered outside normal hours.
Carlo’s longtime aide, Vincent Rago.
Chief accountant Serena Cole.
Security supervisor Marcus Venn.
Hazel recognized Marcus Venn immediately.
“He worked loading docks before being promoted.”
Grant frowned.
“I promoted him.”
“On whose recommendation?”
Grant thought.
Then his face hardened.
“Carlo.”
Internal mole.
Possible.
They watched Marcus.
At 1:57 a.m. that night, he entered the loading-dock control room.
At 2:00, Camera D-Seventeen shifted three degrees left.
Hazel looked at Damian.
“There.”
Grant whispered, “Son of a bitch.”
Marcus left six minutes later.
A team intercepted him in the garage.
No violence.
His phone was cloned before he realized surveillance existed.
The messages were coded.
Hazel broke the basic structure within an hour.
D17 blind.
Package failed.
Second courier removed.
C concerned H knows.
H.
Hazel.
C.
Carlo.
Damian stared.
“Enough now?”
Hazel shook her head.
“To prove assassination attempt?”
“Enough for me.”
“Not enough for everyone else.”
“I don’t need everyone else.”
“Yes, you do.”
Damian turned.
“Why?”
“Because Carlo has captains.”
Of course.
“If you move against him without proof, half the old organization assumes this is succession politics.”
Damian hated how correct she was.
Grant added, “She’s right.”
“I know.”
“That looked painful.”
“It is.”
They continued.
Marcus Venn broke after Grant showed him payment records.
He did not know the full plan.
Carlo told him cameras needed blind spots for “private cargo.”
The car bomb had been planted by another man.
Marcus intentionally moved the camera.
He also gave Renner a stolen catering badge.
“Why?” Damian asked through the interview-room glass.
Marcus sat with his head down.
Hazel watched.
“Money.”
Grant snorted.
“Always disappointing.”
Marcus had been paid three hundred thousand dollars.
His daughter’s private-college tuition was due.
Carlo found the weakness.
Damian felt anger.
Hazel felt something else.
Sadness.
“He used his kid,” she said.
“Marcus chose.”
“Yes.”
She did not excuse him.
She simply refused easy categories.
At noon, Serena Cole disappeared.
The accountant.
Her car was found near Union Station.
Her phone inside.
No sign of her.
Grant cursed.
“Carlo knows.”
Hazel’s face changed.
“Or Serena does.”
“Meaning?”
“She may be running from him.”
Damian’s phone rang.
Serena.
He answered.
“Where are you?”
Her breathing sounded fast.
“Mr. Russo.”
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
Hazel looked at Damian.
Good question.
Serena whispered, “Carlo knows someone accessed Caldera.”
“Where are the originals?”
Silence.
“Serena.”
“He keeps them off-site.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Damian almost swore.
Serena continued.
“But I know who does.”
“Who?”
“Father Michael.”
Damian stared.
His family priest.
Father Michael Santoro had baptized Damian.
Buried Antonio.
Heard confessions from half the Russo family.
“Why?”
“Carlo uses the church archive because nobody searches churches.”
Hazel whispered, “Smart.”
Grant looked offended by the compliment.
Serena continued.
“There is a safe beneath the old parish records room.”
“Code?”
“I don’t have it.”
“Who does?”
“Carlo.”
Damian said, “Stay hidden.”
Serena laughed bitterly.
“Your uncle owns half the men I’d hide from.”
Hazel took the phone.
“Serena.”
Silence.
“This is Hazel Brooks.”
A pause.
“The secretary?”
Damian glared.
Hazel ignored him.
“Yes.”
“You’re alive.”
“Temporarily.”
Damian did not enjoy that word.
Hazel continued.
“Go to St. Anne’s Medical Center. Emergency department. Ask for social worker Nina Cole.”
Grant looked at Hazel.
“Who is Nina?”
“My former unit partner.”
Of course Hazel had former-unit social workers.
“Tell her Sparrow sent you.”
Damian raised an eyebrow.
“Sparrow?”
Hazel covered the microphone.
“Not now.”
Serena agreed.
Twenty minutes later, Nina confirmed Serena was secure.
Damian stared.
“You have a code name.”
“No.”
“You just used one.”
“That was old.”
“Sparrow.”
Hazel gave him a warning look.
He almost smiled.
Grant looked between them.
“I hate whatever this is becoming.”
The church archive operation happened after midnight.
No guns inside the sanctuary.
Hazel insisted.
Damian surprisingly agreed.
Father Michael was asleep in the rectory.
Grant accessed the basement with a warrant-like authorization from the archdiocese’s legal counsel after Damian’s lawyer presented evidence that church property might be used to conceal criminal records.
Damian could have broken in.
Hazel made him do it cleanly.
The records room smelled like dust and old paper.
Behind a movable shelving unit sat a steel safe.
No code.
Grant’s technician opened it in seventeen minutes.
Inside were Caldera ledgers.
Payment records.
Photographs.
A vial inventory.
Then a recorder.
Damian pressed play.
Carlo’s voice filled the basement.
“You understand the dose?”
Leonard Finch answered.
“Yes.”
“It needs to look cardiac.”
Damian stopped breathing.
Finch:
“Antonio’s medical history makes that easy.”
Carlo:
“And Brooks?”
“Different problem.”
“I have someone.”
The recording ended.
Hazel stood motionless.
Damian looked at her.
No triumph.
No satisfaction.
Only twenty-four-year-old grief returning to a thirty-two-year-old face.
“We have it,” Grant whispered.
Hazel nodded.
Damian asked, “Enough?”
Her eyes met his.
“Yes.”
Then the church lights went out.
Grant immediately drew his weapon.
Damian reached inside his coat.
Hazel said, “Down.”
Gunfire struck the metal shelving.
Damian hit the floor.
Grant returned fire toward the basement entrance.
Hazel moved in darkness with terrifying certainty.
Another shot.
A man cursed.
Then silence.
Emergency lights came on.
One attacker had fled.
Another lay wounded near the door.
Alive.
Hazel kicked his weapon away.
Damian looked at the man.
Vincent Rago.
Carlo’s aide.
Vincent stared at the opened safe.
Then at Damian.
“You shouldn’t have found that.”
Damian stood.
His voice became cold.
“No.”
May you like
He looked toward Hazel.
“We should have found it eight years ago.”
