Chapter 5 - Dinner With Judas
By sunrise, the attack on Lakeview had been erased from public view.
Police reports described a vehicle accident caused by faulty brakes. Hospital employees signed new confidentiality agreements. The two dead attackers disappeared into a system of favors Vincent had spent decades constructing.
But inside the Torino organization, nothing felt controlled.
Vincent ordered Sophie and Elena moved to a fortified estate outside the city. Only Tony, Dr. Mercer and three trusted guards knew the location.
Then he returned to the Golden Palm for dinner.
Tuesday dinners had always been rituals. Tonight, Vincent turned the ritual into a trap.
Salvatore Bianchi arrived first, wearing his usual charcoal suit and carrying the same polished walnut cane he had used since a shooting damaged his left knee fifteen years earlier.
At seventy-one, Salvatore looked more like a retired professor than a criminal strategist. Silver hair. Calm eyes. Perfect manners.
He smiled when Vincent entered.
“I heard there was trouble at Lakeview.”
Vincent took his seat.
“Did you?”
“Rumors travel.”
“Especially to people who start them.”
Salvatore’s smile did not move.
The remaining lieutenants entered one by one. Marco Bellini, who controlled transportation. Anthony Velez, who managed the western districts. Paul D’Amato, Vincent’s attorney and oldest legal adviser.
Tony closed the dining-room doors.
No waiters entered.
No food was served.
Vincent placed the old warehouse photograph in the center of the table.
“Who remembers this?”
Marco leaned forward. Anthony looked away too quickly.
Salvatore did not look at the photograph at all.
Paul adjusted his glasses.
“That was the river meeting before the DeLuca war.”
“Six men attended,” Vincent said. “Three are dead. Carlo Russo disappeared. I’m sitting here. And one man is hidden in shadow.”
No one answered.
Vincent turned the photograph over, revealing the word JUDAS.
“Someone has been feeding information to people using DeLuca soldiers, facilities and accounts. Someone knew about Lakeview. Someone knew about Maria.”
Salvatore folded both hands over his cane.
“You think one of us betrayed you?”
“I know one of you did.”
Anthony shifted in his chair. “Boss, we’ve all been with you for years.”
“Time does not create loyalty. Sometimes it only creates opportunity.”
Vincent’s gaze settled on Salvatore.
“Tell me how Gabriel died.”
For the first time, the old man’s composure changed.
Only slightly.
But Vincent saw it.
“He drowned.”
“Where?”
“Near the old Navy Pier warehouses.”
“Who found the boat?”
“I did.”
“Who identified Daniel Rizzo’s body?”
“I did.”
“And Maria?”
Salvatore’s eyes hardened.
“You know what happened to Maria.”
“I know what you told me.”
Silence spread around the table.
Salvatore leaned back.
“Grief is making you reckless.”
“No. Grief made me obedient. Questions are making me dangerous.”
Vincent removed Rizzo’s bloodstained ring and placed it beside the photograph.
Salvatore looked at it.
This time, there was no hiding his recognition.
“Daniel Rizzo died last night,” Vincent said. “Before he died, he told me to ask you where Gabriel is.”
Salvatore stared at him.
Then he sighed.
“I hoped this day would never come.”
Tony raised his gun.
So did every other man in the room.
But Salvatore did not move.
“Gabriel did not drown,” he said. “He betrayed you.”
Vincent felt the words like a blade beneath his ribs.
“Explain.”
“Your brother wanted control of the organization. He believed you had grown weak because of Maria. He made an agreement with Carlo Russo to expose the DeLucas, then planned to use the resulting chaos to replace you.”
“Why would Carlo help him?”
“Because Gabriel promised protection for Isabella.”
Elena.
Vincent’s mind moved rapidly.
“Gabriel was Sophie’s father.”
Salvatore lowered his eyes.
“Yes.”
No one at the table breathed.
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
Vincent struck the table hard enough to crack a wineglass.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I helped him disappear because he threatened to kill Maria if I refused.”
Vincent stood.
“Maria was already dead.”
Salvatore looked up.
“No, Vincent.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What did you say?”
“Maria survived the shooting.”
Vincent crossed the table before anyone could react and dragged Salvatore from his chair.
“You identified her body.”
“I identified a body.”
“You buried her.”
“I buried the woman they wanted you to believe was Maria.”
Vincent pressed a gun beneath his chin.
“Where is she?”
Salvatore’s voice broke for the first time.
“I don’t know anymore.”
Vincent almost pulled the trigger.
Then Paul D’Amato spoke from the opposite side of the table.
“He’s lying.”
Everyone turned.
Paul removed his glasses and placed them carefully beside his plate.
“He has always known where she was.”
Salvatore’s face went pale.
Paul reached inside his jacket.
Tony fired, striking his shoulder before he could draw his weapon. Marco and Anthony overturned their chairs, scrambling away.
Paul fell against the wall, laughing.
“You’re all too late.”
The lights went out.
Gunfire exploded through the dining room windows.
Vincent pulled Salvatore to the floor as bullets shredded the wood paneling above them. Tony fired toward the muzzle flashes outside. Marco screamed and collapsed.
When the emergency lights came on, Paul was gone.
A hidden service door stood open behind the curtains.
On the table where he had been sitting was a white envelope.
Vincent opened it.
Inside was a recent photograph of Maria.
Older now.
Silver threaded through her dark hair.
But unmistakably alive.
She stood beside Gabriel Torino.
Between them was Sophie.
The photograph had been taken less than one year earlier.
May you like
On the back, Paul had written:
YOUR FAMILY HAS BEEN WAITING FOR YOU TO DESTROY ITSELF.
