Chapter 6 - The Midnight Council|
At 11:45 p.m., rain continued to pour over the sprawling industrial complex of Pier 14—the nerve center of the Vescari empire.
Inside the glass-walled executive office overlooking the dark waters of the harbor, nine syndicate captains sat around a long mahogany table.
Julian Vescari sat at the head of the table, wearing a dark wool suit, a glass of aged scotch in his hand.
"Dominic is compromised," Julian declared loudly to the room, his voice dripping with false concern. "His estranged wife was involved in a fatal crash tonight near Halston Bridge. He's currently losing his mind at Saint Mercy's Hospital."
The captains muttered nervously among themselves.
"Mara is dead?" one old captain asked. "What about the child rumors?"
"There is no child," Julian lied smoothly, taking a slow sip of his scotch. "Mara Rossi was alone. Dominic has neglected our shipping interests for eight months chasing a woman who didn't want him. Under Section Four of our charter, I am calling for an interim vote to step—"
The heavy reinforced oak doors of the office exploded inward with a deafening crash.
THUD!
The glass windows trembled.
Dominic Vescari walked into the room.
He wore no coat. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, soaked in rainwater and stained with his wife's blood across the left cuff.
Behind him stood Rocco and ten heavily armed soldiers carrying tactical rifles.
The nine captains jumped to their feet in utter shock. Julian froze, his scotch glass stopping halfway to his mouth, his face turning the color of ash.
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"Dominic!" Julian stammered, backing his chair up. "We... we were just discussing the situation at the hospital!"
Dominic didn't say a word. He walked slowly up the length of the long mahogany table, his heavy leather shoes squeaking against the wet floor.
