Chapter 4 - The Surveillance Reel
The lights throughout the Moretti estate suddenly flickered, dropped to a dull amber, and then died completely as the mansion switched over to emergency backup generators. The deep hum of diesel engines echoed from the subterranean utility vaults.
Inside the grand parlor, Sophia sat curled on an armchair, holding a glass of warm milk that Elena had fetched from the kitchen. When the lights went out, the little girl didn't scream. She merely pulled her knees closer to her chest and looked toward the warming pod where the infant slept.
Rocco entered the room like a specter of war. He had discarded his formal dinner jacket. In its place, he wore a black tactical sweater and a shoulder holster housing a custom Kimber .45. Behind him, four of his most trusted soldiers, armed with suppressed submachine guns, took positions at the arched doorways.
"Elena," Rocco commanded.
"Yes, Don Rocco," Elena answered, her voice trembling as she clutched Sophia’s shoulder.
"Take Sophia and the baby down to the wine cellar," Rocco said. "Behind the racks of nineteen-forty-five Romanée-Conti, there is a vault door. Punch in the code zero-nine-one-two. It’s reinforced steel with an independent air filtration system. You do not open that door for anyone except me or Dante. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Elena said, immediately reaching for the infant.
"Wait," Sophia said.
Rocco paused, looking down at the little girl.
Sophia pointed at the ventilation grate near the ceiling. "There are men in the roof, Mr. Moretti."
Rocco’s eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"
"The heating pipes," Sophia said simply. "Whenever the guards walk on the terrace above the scullery, the copper pipes ping twice. But just now, they pinged six times, very fast. Like men running in heavy boots."
Dante instantly brought his radio to his lips. "Team Two, roof breach! Check the north terrace immediately!"
Before Team Two could respond, the sound of shattered safety glass echoed from the second-floor gallery, followed instantly by the deafening rattle of automatic gunfire.
"Move! Now!" Rocco roared.
Elena scooped the baby into her arms, while Sophia grabbed her mother’s skirt. Dante escorted them toward the hidden servant stairs leading to the sub-level wine cellar just as the estate's heavy oak front doors were blown inward by a breaching charge.
The shockwave rattled the crystal chandeliers, sending thousands of glass droplets showering across the foyer.
Rocco stepped behind a marble column, pulling his Kimber .45 with practiced, lethal speed. Through the smoke and haze of the foyer, five men in tactical gear advanced, their weapons raised. Leading them was Marco DeLuca—tall, arrogant, wearing a heavy leather trench coat, his face twisted in a sneer.
Behind Marco walked Valentina. She was no longer wearing her silk robe. She had changed into trousers and a dark jacket, a small snub-nosed revolver clutched in her right hand.
"Rocco!" Marco’s voice boomed through the shattered entryway, amplified by the high ceilings. "Come out, brother-in-law! Let’s not make this messier than it needs to be! The council has already been notified! As far as the Five Families are concerned, you had a mental break after finding an abandoned child and turned on your own wife!"
From behind the pillar, Rocco’s voice was as calm as deep water. "Is that the story you sold them, Marco? Or did you tell them you stole my son from Clara’s womb so you could install a DeLuca puppet as the sole heir to the Moretti empire?"
Valentina flinched, stepping closer to her brother. "Marco, I told you! He knows! The little maid found the child before the incinerator could run!"
"Shut up, Valentina," Marco hissed. He swept his barrel across the darkened hallway. "It doesn't matter what he knows. In ten minutes, the backup power will fail completely. The security tapes will be wiped. And Rocco Moretti will have died in a tragic home invasion by rival cartels. The Moretti name ends tonight."
"You always were an arrogant bastard, Marco," Rocco’s voice echoed from a different location—the shadows near the mezzanine.
A single gunshot cracked through the hall.
The lead tactical operator beside Marco collapsed instantly, a neat hole punched through his forehead. Before his body hit the marble, Rocco fired twice more. Two more men dropped, their weapons clattering uselessly across the floor.
May you like
"Kill him!" Marco screamed, diving behind the overturned dining table as automatic fire tore through the plaster columns, plaster dust exploding into the air like white smoke.
---
