Chapter 7 - The Trap Is Sprung
The Chicago Union League Club was an ancient citadel of dark wood, brass chandeliers, and oil paintings of long-dead industrialists. Beneath its private dining suites lay the Vault Room—a space where, for ninety years, the five families of the Midwest Commission had settled their disputes without the interference of politicians or police.
By 12:30 p.m., the seven Capos of the Moretti Family and three representatives from the Detroit and Milwaukee syndicates sat around a massive oval table carved from a single slab of black walnut.
At the head of the table sat my seat.
Behind me stood Marcus, his dark suit buttoned, his hands folded in front of him.
On the table in front of every man lay a printed dossier containing sixty-four pages of Thomas Hayes’s recovered ledgers, bank transactions, and forensic camera analyses showing the frame-by-frame fabrication of the Gary dry docks loop.
At the foot of the table, shoved into an oak chair, sat Vincent Russo. His hands were bound behind him, his face covered in bruises, his clothes torn and stained with grease.
Old Man Cavallo, the seventy-two-year-old capo who had served alongside my father, lowered his reading glasses and tossed the dossier onto the table with a heavy, disgusted slap.
"Is this real, Dante?" Cavallo’s gravelly voice rumbled through the vaulted ceiling. "Vincent? Our own blood was selling our northern shipping rights to New York?"
"Check the serial numbers on page forty-two," I said, my voice carrying the weight of an iron hammer. "Those are the transfer codes for the Gary logistics hub. The funds were routed through Vincent’s private accounts in Zurich twenty-four hours before Thomas Hayes was pulled out of the lake."
A low murmur of anger ran around the table. Men who had killed dozens without blinking looked at Vincent with pure, unadulterated venom. In our world, violence was business. But treason—selling your own family’s territory to an outside syndicate—was an unforgivable sin.
"Vincent," Cavallo barked, leaning forward. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Vincent raised his head. The arrogance had returned, twisted by the realization that he was already dead.
"I say this family is run by an old man’s ghost!" Vincent screamed, his voice cracking against the timbered walls. "Dante doesn't have the stomach for what’s coming! The feds are coming for us! New York is coming for us! If we didn't evolve, we were going to be crushed anyway! Thomas Hayes was an obstacle. He had to be removed!"
The room fell dead silent.
Vincent had just confessed in front of the entire Commission.
Cavallo looked at me, then looked down the line of Capos. One by one, every man at that table placed his right hand flat on the walnut surface.
A unanimous vote.
"Dante Moretti," Cavallo said formally. "The Commission recognizes the treason of Vincent Russo. By the ancient laws of this table, the sentence belongs to the Boss of the house he betrayed."
I stood up.
I walked the length of the table, stopping behind Vincent’s chair. I placed both hands on the carved crest of the chairback.
"Vincent," I whispered, leaning down close to his ear. "Fourteen months ago, you stood over Thomas Hayes while he drowned. Did he beg for his life?"
Vincent didn't answer. His breathing was fast and shallow.
"He didn't, did he?" I continued. "Because a man who protects his family doesn't beg. He just waits for the truth to find him."
I tapped the brass watch against the wood beside his ear. *Click. Click. Click.*
"Marcus," I said aloud.
"Boss."
"Take him to Montrose Harbor. Take him to the exact pier where they pulled Thomas from the water."
Vincent's eyes widened in sheer, naked panic. "No... Dante! Please! Not the lake! Shoot me! Put a bullet in my head like a man! Dante, we’re cousins! We’re blood!"
"The blood washed out fourteen months ago, Vincent," I said without looking at him. "Take him away."
The heavy doors opened. Two stone-faced enforcers pulled Vincent from the chair, dragging him backward across the polished parquet floor. His screams echoed down the long marble corridor outside until the heavy oak doors clicked shut, cutting off his voice forever.
I turned back to the Commission.
"There is one more matter of business," I said.
The Capos watched me carefully.
"The late Thomas Hayes," I said, "is hereby cleared of all charges of treason, theft, and dishonor. His name will be restored to the Family roll of honor. His estate will be reimbursed with the thirty-two million dollars recovered from Vincent’s Swiss accounts, plus fifty percent interest drawn from my personal reserve."
Cavallo raised an eyebrow. "Fifty million dollars to an accountant’s widow and child, Dante? That is an unprecedented settlement."
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"It's not a settlement, Cavallo," I said, looking every man at that table dead in the eyes. "It's a debt. And as long as I lead this family, a Moretti always pays his debts."
***
