Chapter 8 - The Confrontation
At midnight, a dense fog hung over the marina at Shelter Island.
The dark water of the Long Island Sound lapped quietly against the wooden pilings of the private dock where a eighty-foot luxury yacht sat idling in the mist.
Marco Bellandi stood on the edge of the dock, wrapped in a heavy trench coat, nervously smoking a cigar while two armed guards flanked him.
A black sedan bumped over the gravel path, its headlights cutting through the thick white fog.
The car stopped twenty feet from Marco.
The rear door opened, and a figure stepped out into the damp night air.
It wasn't Anthony.
It was me.
Marco’s cigar fell from his lips, landing on the wet wooden planks. His hand flew toward his belt, but before his fingers could even touch his holster, the red laser sights of four hidden marine snipers illuminated his chest.
"Don't move, Marco," I said, walking toward him with slow, deliberate steps.
The two guards beside Marco immediately raised their hands, stepping away from their boss. They knew when a war was lost.
"Vincent..." Marco stuttered, his voice trembling as he backed toward the edge of the dock. "Listen to me... we can make a deal... whatever Anthony told you—"
"Anthony told me everything," I interrupted, stopping three feet away from him. "He told me how you killed Daniel Hale because he wouldn't take your bribe. He told me how you used a sick boy's heart medicine to blackmail an innocent woman."
"It was just business!" Marco pleaded, his eyes darting frantically toward the dark water behind him. "This is the mob, Moretti! We do what we have to do to win!"
"You don't understand what real power is, Marco," I said, my voice cold and absolute as the ocean beneath us. "Real power isn't twenty thousand dollars on a desk. It isn't automatic weapons or shell companies."
I stepped closer, grabbing Marco by the lapels of his heavy coat and pulling him over the dark water.
"Real power," I whispered into his ear, "is a little boy who has two pills left in his pocket and gives one away to save a stranger. That's something a rat like you will never understand."
"Please... don't kill me..." Marco wept, his knees buckling beneath him.
"I'm not going to kill you, Marco," I said, smiling a dark, terrifying smile. "That would be too easy."
I turned my head toward the access road.
Three federal law enforcement vans pulled out from the fog, their red and blue emergency lights flashing brightly across the water. Dozens of FBI agents in tactical vests spilled out onto the dock, weapons raised.
"Marco Bellandi!" an agent shouted through a bullhorn. "You are under arrest for federal healthcare fraud, extortion, racketeering, and first-degree murder!"
I released Marco’s coat. He collapsed onto the wet wood, sobbing hysterically as federal agents rushed forward to slap heavy steel handcuffs onto his wrists.
May you like
As they dragged him away toward the transport van, Marco looked back at me, his face twisted in defeat.
I simply turned my back on him and walked into the mist, stepping into my waiting car.
