Chapter 3 - A Dinner of Judas
By seven o'clock that evening, the storm clouds rolling in from the Long Island Sound had blocked out the sunset, plunging the Duca estate into a damp, blue twilight. Rain began to tap against the high leaded-glass windows of the formal dining room.
At the center of the broad oak table sat a spread prepared by Rocco Bellini, the seventy-year-old family cook who had fed three generations of Ducas. Steaking roasted meats, rich pasta sauces, and vintage Italian wine filled the air with warm scents, but the atmosphere inside the room was ice-cold.
Lorenzo sat at the head of the table. To his right sat Tony Rizzi, his long-time lieutenant, a man with slicked-back dark hair and a sharp leather jacket he rarely removed. To his left sat Rocco, who wiping his hands on a stained apron, looking grim.
"You're quiet tonight, Boss," Tony said, cutting into a thick piece of veal before raising his wine glass. "Everything alright with the shipping accounts in Brooklyn?"
"The accounts are fine, Tony," Lorenzo said, swirling the dark red liquid in his glass without drinking. "I'm just thinking about loyalty."
Tony chuckled, taking a deep gulp of wine. "Loyalty? What's there to think about? You got the loyalest crew in the city. Moretti's syndicate in Manhattan is falling apart at the seams, and we're holding all the cards."
"Are we?" Lorenzo asked smoothly. He set his glass down on the white linen tablecloth. "Because I heard an interesting rumor today. I heard Victor Moretti hired a specialized contractor from the West Coast."
Tony paused, his fork hovering an inch above his plate. "What kind of contractor?"
"A man named Silas Kane," Lorenzo murmured, his gaze locking onto Tony’s face like a vice. "They call him the Viper. Beautiful tattoo on his neck, I hear. Snake head right under the left ear."
Across the table, Rocco lowered his eyes, pretending to clean a wine bottle.
Tony’s eyes flickered—just a micro-second of hesitation, a sudden tightening of his eyelids before he forced a wide, boisterous laugh. "The Viper? Boss, Kane is a myth. People talk about him to scare street corner dealers. Besides, Kane works out of Chicago. Why would he be anywhere near New York?"
"That's what I wondered," Lorenzo said softly. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Until three hours ago, when a three-year-old girl told me she saw him standing right outside my eastern perimeter wall."
The dining room went entirely silent. Only the patter of rain against the glass broke the stillness.
Tony’s smile slowly melted away. His hand slid subtly beneath the edge of the mahogany table toward his shoulder holster. "Boss... you're letting a maid's kid get in your head? A little girl playing in the dirt?"
"She described the tattoo down to the teeth on the snake, Tony," Lorenzo said quietly. "And she said Kane was waiting for a signal tomorrow night at eight. Right when I take my walk near the trees."
Tony’s jaw worked silently. He didn't deny it. He couldn't.
Slowly, Tony took his hand out from beneath the table, holding both palms up in a gesture of fake surrender. "Lorenzo... listen to me. Moretti’s got my sister in Queens. He’s holding her in a basement on 14th Street. He told me if I didn't give up your walk schedule, he’d send her back to me in a box!"
Lorenzo stood up slowly, his tall frame blocking out the warm light of the chandelier above.
"You've been my lieutenant for twelve years, Tony," Lorenzo said, his voice flat and devoid of anger, which made it ten times more terrifying. "If you had come to me, we would have burned that basement in Manhattan to the ground and saved your sister in two hours. Instead, you sold my location to the Viper."
"Lorenzo, please—"
Before Tony could finish the sentence, two heavy doors behind him clicked open. Four bulky guards, men loyal to Rocco and the old guard, stepped into the dining room with suppressed pistols already drawn.
"Take him to the basement under the stables," Lorenzo commanded flatly. "And do not touch his sister. Rocco, send three guys to Manhattan to bring Tony’s sister to safety tonight."
"Yes, Mr. Duca," Rocco said, nodding sternly.
Tony screamed and thrashed as the guards grabbed his arms, dragging him backward out of the dining room. "Lorenzo! You can't stop Kane! He’s already got twenty men lined up outside the property! Tomorrow night you're a dead man!"
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The heavy double doors slammed shut, cutting off Tony’s desperate shouts.
Lorenzo stood alone in the grand room. He walked over to the tall windows, looking out into the rain-soaked darkness toward the small greenhouse in the distance, where a single, unlit guest cottage sat hidden in the trees.
