Chapter 7 - The Final Audit
The roar of the Gulfstream’s twin jet engines vibrated through the metal walls of Hangar 4, filling the cold night air with the heavy smell of aviation fuel.
Rain poured through the open ceiling grates, splashing onto the polished concrete floor.
Inside the well-lit hangar, six bodyguards in dark raincoats stood perimeter guard around the ladder of the private jet. At the top of the stairs stood Vivian Romano, wearing a heavy mink coat over her dirtied red dress, frantically dragging two leather suitcases up into the cabin.
At the base of the stairs, Don Ricci stood talking frantically on a satellite phone, his grey hair plastered to his forehead by the rain.
"I don't care what it costs!" Ricci screamed into the phone. "Get the flight clearance for Zurich now! Moretti has the master drive! If he leaks those ledger accounts to the federal prosecutor, we're all done!"
"He doesn't need to leak them to the prosecutor, Ricci," a booming voice echoed from the shadows of the hangar entrance.
Ricci froze, dropping the satellite phone onto the concrete.
Alessandro stepped out of the darkness, bathed in the harsh floodlights of the hangar. He carried his rifle at his side, surrounded by ten heavily armed Moretti capos who fan out in a lethal tactical arc, cutting off every exit.
Beside Alessandro, holding a heavy Beretta in a firm, two-handed grip, stood me.
Vivian turned around at the top of the jet stairs, letting out a sharp, pathetic gasp as she saw us. "No... no! How did you find us?!"
"You paid your pilot using an offshore account listed on Julian Bennett's master drive," I said, my voice echoing clearly over the roar of the jet engines. "He tracked your tail number ten minutes after you left the villa."
Don Ricci slowly turned around, his pale, wrinkled face looking small and frail under the harsh lights. He looked at Alessandro, then looked at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and utter disbelief.
"Clara..." Ricci rasped, trying to force a fake, grandfatherly smile onto his lips. "My dear girl... you don't understand... I was protecting you! Your husband... Julian... he was a rogue! He stole money from all of us! I tried to save him, but—"
"Shut your lying mouth, Ricci," I said, stepping forward, taking two paces ahead of the armed guards, pointing the gun directly at his chest. "My husband was an honest man. You used him, you threatened his family, and when he tried to stop your poison, you had him murdered on a dark road in Genoa."
"He was just a clerk!" Vivian shrieked from the top of the stairs, her hands shaking violently as she gripped the handrail. "He was a nobody! His life meant nothing!"
Alessandro snapped his rifle up, firing a single, deafening shot!
BANG!
The heavy round shattered the glass of the jet window right above Vivian’s head! Shards of reinforced glass rained down onto her mink coat! She shrieked, collapsing onto her knees on the wet metal stairs, weeping hysterical tears of pure terror!
"Speak another word, Vivian," Alessandro snarled, "and the next bullet goes between your eyes."
He then looked down at Don Ricci, who had dropped to his knees on the wet concrete, holding his hands up in a desperate plea for mercy.
"You built an empire on blood and treason, Ricci," Alessandro said coldly. "You killed my brother. You betrayed my father. And you tried to starve a widow and her child."
Alessandro turned his dark eyes to me. "He is yours, Clara. Say the word, and he dies where he kneels."
Don Ricci looked up at me, the powerful, feared crime boss of Genoa reduced to a weeping old man on a concrete floor. "Please..." he begged, his voice cracking. "Please, Clara... I have money... millions in Swiss accounts... I can make you richer than you ever dreamed... please..."
I looked at the man who had ordered my husband's death. I looked at the hands that had signed the death warrant that ruined my life.
My finger rested against the cold steel of the trigger.
For two long years, I had dreamed of revenge. I had dreamed of making the people who destroyed my world pay for every tear Emma had cried, for every meal we had skipped, for every humiliation I had endured.
Then I thought of Emma, sleeping safely in the armored car outside. I thought of the light in her eyes when she held her little blue rabbit.
I slowly lowered the gun.
Ricci let out a gasping sigh of relief. "Thank you... thank you, God..."
"I'm not going to shoot you, Ricci," I said, my voice cold, sharp, and dripping with absolute contempt. "Because death is quick. Death lets you off easy."
I turned to Alessandro. "Hand the drive to the Italian Federal Anti-Mafia Directorate. Let them seize every bank account, every villa, every yacht, and every dock you own. Let the men you betrayed know that you sold them out. Let you spend the rest of your miserable life sitting in a concrete solitary cell, knowing that a housekeeper and her three-year-old daughter took everything from you."
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A slow, dark, beautiful smile spread across Alessandro’s face.
"A fate far worse than death," Alessandro approved softly. He looked at Marco. "Contact the Special Prosecutor in Rome. Tell him I have a gift for him."
