Chapter 6 - Blood in the Courtyard
The estate’s cobblestone courtyard was shrouded in late afternoon fog rolling off the East River.
Three midnight-black Chevrolet Suburbans sat idling, their exhaust pipes puffing white plumes into the chill autumn air. Standing near the lead vehicle was Julian Vance. He looked immaculate in a navy wool overcoat, his silver hair combed back, tapping his leather-gloved fingers against the frame of the tinted driver’s window.
His eyes darted nervously toward the heavy oak doors of the mansion.
His watch read 4:42 PM. The Mott Street summit was scheduled for 5:30 sharp.
The oak front door swung open.
Julian straightened up, forcing a calm, deferential smile onto his face as Marco Bellini stepped out onto the wide stone porch.
"Marco!" Julian called out, his breath misting. "Where is Dante? Traffic across the Manhattan Bridge is backing up. If we don’t roll right now, Stracci is going to think we’re disrespecting the commission."
Marco descended the stone stairs slowly, both hands buried deep in the pockets of his trench coat.
"Dante had an unexpected visitor, Julian," Marco said, his voice flat, carrying across the cold courtyard.
Julian’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "A visitor? Who? We swept the guest list."
"A little girl with plastic scissors," Marco replied, stopping ten feet away.
Julian froze. His hand twitched toward his left lapel.
Before he could move an inch, the heavy iron side doors of the adjoining carriage house slammed open with a thunderous clang. Four Moretti tactical operators emerged with suppressed carbines raised, pinning the drivers and perimeter guards in an inescapable crossfire.
"Don't do it, Julian," Marco said softly.
From the dark trunk of the third Suburban, the trunk lid suddenly flew upward.
Tomas Rossi exploded from the vehicle, a fully automatic submachine gun coming up toward Marco’s chest. The viper tattoo on his right hand was clearly visible, the purple amethyst ring catching the dim courtyard lights.
*CRACK.*
A single shot echoed from the second-story balcony of the main house.
Tomas Rossi screamed as the Kimber .45 hollow-point round shattered his right shoulder, sending the submachine gun clattering across the wet cobblestones. He collapsed against the rear bumper, clutching his bleeding arm, gasping in agony.
High above on the stone terrace, Dante Moretti lowered his weapon.
He didn't have a jacket on. His white shirt cuffs were rolled to his elbows, and his collar was open—bare, unadorned, and completely free of any silk tie.
Dante walked slowly to the edge of the stone balustrade, looking down into the courtyard like an ancient Roman emperor judging the sand of the Colosseum. His gaze locked onto Julian Vance, whose face had drained of all color.
"You sold my blood to Stracci for a seat at their table, cousin," Dante spoke, his voice quiet, yet cutting through the courtyard like a razor blade.
"Dante... listen to me, it’s not what it looks like!" Julian stammered, raising his hands, his boots slipping on the wet stones. "Stracci threatened my family! He said if I didn't help Rossi plant the beacon, he’d burn my house down!"
"You forgot one thing, Julian," Dante said, descending the stone spiral staircase into the courtyard, step by deliberate step, his pistol resting loosely at his side. "Your family was supposed to be *us*."
Dante reached the cobblestones, stepping past the groaning, bleeding form of Tomas Rossi without even glancing down. He stopped three feet from Julian.
From inside his pocket, Dante pulled out the severed black silk tie—and the small, crumpled piece of ledger paper with Mia’s crayon drawing.
He held the drawing up to Julian’s face.
"A four-year-old saw what a thirty-year veteran couldn't hide," Dante whispered coldly.
Julian stared at the waxy drawing of the viper tattoo and the amethyst ring, his lips quivering in sheer terror. He knew what was coming. In the Moretti family, treason had only one currency.
"Dante, please..." Julian wept. "What are you going to do?"
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Dante looked at his watch. It was 4:50 PM.
"You and I are still going to Mott Street, Julian," Dante said, a chilling smile touching his lips. "Only this time, Stracci is going to get a very different delivery."
