Chapter 8 - NO MORE ORDERS
Frank drove them to an abandoned print shop in Queens.
Nobody slept.
Mave spent hours studying the files.
Vincent paced.
Leo cleaned his gun.
At four in the morning, Mave finally found the pattern.
“Salvatore is moving money through twelve companies.”
Vincent looked over her shoulder.
“To pay the captains?”
“Not only captains.”
She turned the laptop.
“Police. Customs. Three judges. A deputy commissioner.”
Leo whistled.
“That’s a lot of friends.”
“That’s not the bad part.”
Vincent looked at her.
“What’s the bad part?”
“He owns enough of the city to make your death look legal.”
Silence.
Mave continued.
“At eight tomorrow morning, an arrest warrant is supposed to be issued for you.”
“For what?”
“Murder.”
Vincent almost laughed.
“That narrows it down.”
She glared.
“Not funny.”
“A little.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
She clicked another document.
“Once you’re arrested, Salvatore’s people control transport.”
Leo understood first.
“They kill him in custody.”
“Exactly.”
Vincent nodded slowly.
“Then Salvatore takes the organization.”
“And all the legitimate companies.”
“Which explains the transfers.”
Mave leaned back.
“So we give everything to federal authorities.”
Frank shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“One of the files names an FBI contact.”
Mave felt her stomach turn.
“Dirty?”
“Maybe.”
Vincent looked at the screen.
“Who?”
“Agent Charles Walsh.”
Vincent’s mouth tightened.
“I’ve met him.”
“Good?”
“No.”
Mave stood.
“Then we find someone else.”
Vincent shook his head.
“No.”
She stared.
“What now?”
“You’re leaving.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll put you on a plane.”
“To where?”
“Anywhere Salvatore can’t reach you.”
“And you?”
“I stay.”
“Of course.”
“Mave.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“This isn’t your war.”
She laughed.
“They burned my apartment.”
“Mave—”
“They killed my father.”
He fell silent.
“They killed my mother.”
Her voice cracked, but she kept going.
“They tried to put a bullet through my skull in a ballroom full of people.”
Vincent’s eyes softened.
“I know.”
“So don’t you dare tell me this isn’t my war.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“And I’m trying to stop you from getting murdered before breakfast.”
He took another step.
They were inches apart.
“You should hate me.”
“I do.”
Vincent’s mouth twitched.
“That sounded convincing.”
“Don’t push it.”
His voice lowered.
“I lied to you.”
“Yes.”
“I watched your apartment.”
“Creepy.”
“I checked every man you dated.”
Her eyes widened.
“You what?”
“For security.”
“You investigated my dates?”
“One had two assault charges.”
“I knew that.”
“You went out with him twice.”
“The pasta was good.”
Vincent stared at her.
Despite everything, Mave laughed.
One short, exhausted laugh.
Then silence returned.
His eyes dropped briefly to her mouth.
Mave felt it.
So did he.
The air changed.
Vincent whispered, “This is a terrible time.”
“The worst.”
He lifted one hand.
Stopped.
Then lowered it.
“Good.”
Mave almost hated him for having self-control.
Leo suddenly stood.
“Car outside.”
Everyone froze.
Headlights moved across the boarded windows.
Then three vehicles stopped.
Frank grabbed the shotgun.
Vincent looked at Leo.
“Back exit.”
Leo checked.
His face changed.
“Too late.”
A familiar voice came through the front door.
“Vincent?”
Mave recognized it.
Donovan.
Vincent’s missing lieutenant.
The one who had supposedly been sick.
“Open up,” Donovan called.
“I brought help.”
May you like
Leo whispered:
“He’s the only person who knew about this place.”
