I Walked Past the Mafia Boss in That Black Dress Again

The Old Vale Club had not been used in six years.

It stood on a private stretch of lakefront north of the city, a stone building with narrow windows, iron balconies, and the kind of architecture designed by men who thought permanence could be purchased.

Ciro's grandfather had held political dinners there.

His father had negotiated ceasefires there.

Vittorio, according to Ciro, had once broken a man's hand over dessert there because the man had insulted a waiter.

"He defended a waiter?" I asked.

"No. He was angry because the insult interrupted him."

That sounded more believable.

We had twenty-one hours before midnight.

Saurin used nineteen of them.

By ten the next evening, three teams were in position around the property.

A fourth waited two miles away with federal agents and a warrant package built from the Lisbon ledger.

That part surprised me.

"You actually had a prosecutor," I said.

Saurin adjusted the wire beneath my collar.

"I told you I have contingencies."

"You are deeply irritating."

"Ciro says the same thing."

Across the room, Ciro checked the magazine in his pistol.

"Frequently."

He wore a black suit with no tie.

I wore a dark green dress that reached my knees and concealed the transmitter at my waist.

Not the black dress.

That belonged to another kind of danger.

Rafael and Sofia were already in a separate vehicle.

They carried the second black seal.

Ciro had the first.

The original drive sat in my handbag.

Or what Vittorio would believe was the original drive.

The real one was locked in an evidence vault downtown.

The one I carried contained everything from Lisbon plus a program Saurin promised would copy the contents of any computer it touched.

"And Brin?" I asked for the fourth time.

Saurin's face softened almost imperceptibly.

"We know she is inside. Heat signature, second floor east room. One guard outside."

"You will get her out."

It was not a question.

"Yes."

"Before the shooting starts."

Ciro looked at me.

"There will be no shooting."

I looked at the gun in his hand.

He looked at it too.

"Optimism is new on you," I said.

"I am trying to grow."

Despite myself, I smiled.

Then he crossed the room and stood in front of me.

Everyone else became very busy with equipment.

His fingers brushed the edge of my sleeve.

"You can still stay here."

"No."

"I knew you would say that."

"Then why ask?"

"Growth is not instantaneous."

I touched his chest.

"My father died because men like Vittorio believed everyone else was a piece on a board. Brin was taken because he still believes it. I am going in."

Ciro nodded once.

No command.

No argument.

That mattered.

"Stay beside me," he said.

"That I can do."

The Vale Club doors opened at 11:47 p.m.

A man in a dinner jacket searched us at the entrance.

He found Ciro's gun.

Ciro looked at him.

The man hesitated.

"Mr. Vale, I have instructions."

"So do I."

The man looked past him toward another guard.

Finally, he removed the weapon and placed it in a velvet-lined box.

"You will get it back when you leave."

Ciro's expression said the man had more faith in the evening than anyone else.

My bag was searched too.

The drive remained.

We were escorted into the dining room.

Vittorio sat at the head of a table set for six.

Crystal.

Silver.

White linen.

Candles.

A meal from another century prepared for people who might kill one another before coffee.

Adrian Mercer stood near the fireplace.

I recognized him from old security photographs Saurin had found.

Late fifties.

Heavy shoulders.

Eyes like shut doors.

Rafael and Sofia entered through the opposite side of the room.

Vittorio smiled.

"Family. At last."

Ciro pulled out my chair.

"Where is Brin?"

Vittorio lifted his wineglass.

"Alive."

"I want to see her."

"After dinner."

I sat.

"I am not hungry."

"You Morettis never knew how to appreciate ceremony."

"You murdered my father with a car. Forgive my manners."

Mercer's eyes flicked toward Vittorio.

Ciro did not move.

Rafael's jaw tightened.

Sofia looked at her hands.

Vittorio sighed.

"Enzo's death was unfortunate."

"Interesting word."

"Necessary at the time."

Silence.

My pulse jumped.

The wire beneath my collar seemed suddenly enormous.

Ciro's hand rested under the table, close to mine.

I did not take it.

Not because I did not want to.

Because I needed both hands steady.

"Necessary for what?" I asked.

Vittorio smiled.

"For order. Your father had become moral. Moral men are dangerous in criminal families. They begin believing rules should apply to people who wrote them."

"So you ordered Mercer to force him off the road."

Mercer shifted.

Vittorio glanced at him.

"Adrian has always been literal."

There.

Another piece.

I kept my voice level.

"And Marco Vale?"

Ciro's eyes sharpened.

Vittorio shrugged.

"My brother was weak. He paid me to leave Chicago after he discovered what happened. He thought twenty million dollars could purchase peace."

"Instead you stayed involved from Europe."

"I built what should have been mine."

Ciro finally spoke.

"Nothing was yours."

Vittorio's expression hardened.

"Your father inherited because he was born eleven minutes after me and our father preferred sons who smiled. Do not lecture me about what was mine."

"You killed Enzo for nine hundred million dollars."

"I killed Enzo because he was going to destroy an architecture that took thirty years to build. The trust was an inconvenience that became an opportunity."

He looked at me.

"You were supposed to die before thirty. Quietly. Eventually."

My blood chilled.

Ciro's hand closed around the edge of the table.

I placed my palm over his knuckles.

Not to comfort him.

To keep him seated.

Vittorio noticed.

His smile returned.

"That has always been your weakness, Ciro."

"What?"

"Her."

Ciro looked at me.

Then back at his uncle.

"No."

Vittorio laughed.

"I watched you send her across an ocean because you could not bear the risk of keeping her near you. I watched you pretend she was an employee while your entire security network revolved around her."

He leaned forward.

"Love makes men stupid."

Ciro's voice was quiet.

"It made me honest."

Something inside me tightened.

Vittorio seemed almost disappointed.

"Then you learned the wrong lesson."

He nodded toward my handbag.

"The drive."

I set it on the table.

"Brin first."

"The drive."

"You invited a Moretti to negotiate and expected obedience?"

Rafael almost smiled.

Vittorio did not.

Mercer moved behind me.

Ciro's chair shifted half an inch.

I touched his hand again.

Wait.

A faint sound came through the earpiece hidden beneath my hair.

Two clicks.

Saurin's signal.

Brin secured.

Relief nearly weakened my knees.

I picked up the drive.

"Fine."

Vittorio pointed to a laptop on the sideboard.

"Insert it."

I stood.

Mercer followed me.

I crossed the room and connected the drive.

A password box appeared.

"Password," Vittorio said.

I typed MINE.

The folders opened.

His eyes brightened.

For the first time, I saw greed strip the elegance from his face.

"Copy it," he ordered Mercer.

Mercer plugged in a second device.

Saurin's program began silently in the background.

Downloading everything from Vittorio's network.

Accounts.

Contacts.

Messages.

Maybe the rest of his life.

I stepped away.

"You have it. Now we leave."

Vittorio looked at the screen.

"No."

Ciro stood.

Four guards entered from the side doors.

Rafael moved closer to Sofia.

Vittorio turned to me.

"The trust matures in six weeks. That remains inconvenient."

Ciro's voice dropped.

"If you touch her—"

"You are unarmed."

"That has never been what made me dangerous."

Vittorio smiled.

Then Sofia spoke.

"He is right."

Everyone looked at her.

She stood slowly.

"You taught me that, Uncle Vittorio."

Vittorio's face changed.

Uncle.

Rafael stared at his sister.

"What did you call him?"

Sofia's eyes filled with contempt.

"My mother was Vittorio's sister. Rafael and I grew up calling him family before our father decided alliances mattered more than truth."

Rafael went pale.

"You knew?"

"I found the birth records after they faked my death."

Vittorio's hand moved toward his jacket.

Sofia continued quickly.

"He and Father built Argent together. He ordered Enzo killed. Father helped. Marco Vale covered the public story. And Mercer handled every cleanup afterward."

Mercer reached for her.

The lights went out.

Saurin.

Chaos exploded.

I dropped behind the sideboard.

A gunshot cracked.

Then another.

Ciro overturned the table.

Rafael tackled one guard.

Emergency lights came on in a dull amber glow.

Mercer stood near the fireplace with a gun aimed at me.

Time slowed.

I saw Ciro turn.

Too far away.

I saw Mercer's finger tighten.

Then Sofia fired.

The shot struck Mercer's shoulder and spun him sideways.

His weapon hit the floor.

Rafael kicked it away.

Ciro reached me.

"Are you hit?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Ciro, I am not secretly shot."

"It has happened to people."

A shout came from the hallway.

Federal agents poured through the doors with Saurin behind them.

And Brin.

Her hair was a disaster.

Her lip was split.

She was holding one of Saurin's spare jackets around herself.

I ran to her.

She met me halfway.

We collided hard enough to lose dignity.

"You took your time," she whispered into my shoulder.

"I had dinner reservations."

She laughed and started crying at the same time.

Across the room, Vittorio stood perfectly still while agents surrounded him.

He looked at Ciro.

"You brought police into a Vale house."

Ciro stared at him.

"No. You brought crime into every house we had. I am simply opening the doors."

Vittorio's face twisted.

For the first time, the old man's control broke.

He pulled a small pistol from an ankle holster.

Everything happened at once.

He aimed at me.

Ciro moved.

I moved too.

Not away.

Toward the heavy dining chair beside me.

I shoved it into Vittorio's knees.

His shot went into the ceiling.

Ciro hit him from the side.

They crashed to the floor.

Agents pinned Vittorio's arms.

The gun slid beneath the table.

Silence returned in broken pieces.

Ciro stood slowly.

His knuckles were bleeding.

He looked down at Vittorio.

For one long second, I saw the old choice in his face.

The family choice.

The simple choice.

End the threat permanently.

Then he looked at the photograph of my father tucked into the inside pocket of my handbag, where the edge was visible.

He stepped back.

"Take him," he said.

Vittorio stared at him with hatred.

"Your father would be ashamed."

Ciro's face became calm.

"Maybe."

He looked at me.

"Enzo wouldn't."

The agents led Vittorio away.

Mercer went out on a stretcher under guard.

Rafael sat beside Sofia while a medic treated her wrist.

Brin refused medical attention until Saurin agreed to let her insult him for "making a terrible rescue entrance."

The Old Vale Club emptied around us.

By dawn, only Ciro and I remained in the dining room.

Snow fell beyond the windows.

He stood beside the broken table, looking at the place his family had used for generations to decide other people's futures.

"What now?" I asked.

He was quiet for a long time.

Then he took the black seal from his pocket.

He placed it on the table.

"Now I stop inheriting things I do not want to become."

I looked at him.

"Meaning?"

"Vale Maritime goes legitimate completely. Construction too. The private crews are dissolved. The cash businesses get audited. Anything that cannot survive daylight gets sold, closed, or handed to attorneys."

I stared.

"You decided all of that tonight?"

"No."

He reached for my hand.

"I decided it the night your father wrote that I was not my family. Tonight I finally believed him."

I squeezed his fingers.