Chapter 2 - The Device Beneath the Car
Vincent had been betrayed before.
His father betrayed alliances whenever profit required it.
His uncle betrayed the family to federal investigators and then claimed he had done it to save them.
Two business partners had quietly moved money against him.
A woman he once considered marrying sold private information to a journalist.
Betrayal had never surprised Vincent.
Frank Caruso did.
For eleven years, Frank supervised every Marchetti vehicle.
He knew which car Vincent used for courthouse appearances, business meetings, funerals, family events, and private travel.
He knew the armored SUVs from the standard ones.
He knew replacement routes.
He knew which drivers carried weapons.
More importantly, Frank had access.
Not theoretical access.
Real access.
And Mia had seen him beneath Vincent’s SUV in the rain.
Vincent stood in the estate’s underground security room while Dominic reviewed camera recordings.
Alina sat upstairs with Mia.
Vincent had asked her to remain.
It hadn’t sounded like a request.
“Here.”
Dominic stopped the video.
Timestamp: 1:47 a.m.
Three nights earlier.
Rain blurred camera twelve.
A man moved from the carriage-house direction toward the garage.
Face hidden.
Black rain jacket.
Security earpiece.
“Zoom.”
The image became grainy.
The man crouched near Vincent’s SUV.
“Can’t see the wrist.”
“No.”
“How did he avoid the garage camera?”
Dominic switched angles.
Camera nine showed static for eleven minutes.
“Disabled.”
“Remotely?”
“Looks like a maintenance reset.”
“Who can authorize that?”
Dominic did not answer.
Vincent turned.
“Who?”
“Frank.”
Of course.
“And?”
“Me.”
Vincent stared at him.
Dominic did not look away.
“Anyone else?”
“Systems administrator. Two senior guards. You.”
Vincent leaned back.
Five people.
One was under guard downstairs.
Potentially more remained.
“Frank said the device wasn’t meant to kill me.”
Dominic frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“I intend to ask.”
The interrogation room had once been a wine-storage chamber.
Vincent hated that fact.
His father built rooms for fear.
Vincent had spent a decade trying to make them unnecessary.
Yet here he was.
Frank sat at a metal table.
Hands unrestrained.
That was deliberate.
Vincent entered alone.
Frank looked up.
“You going to hit me?”
“No.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive.”
Vincent sat opposite him.
“What did you install?”
Frank sighed.
“You already know.”
“I want your version.”
“A locator.”
“And ignition trigger.”
“Backup.”
“For what?”
Frank looked away.
“Protection.”
Vincent laughed once.
“You attached a fire-start mechanism to my fuel line for protection.”
“It would have disabled the vehicle.”
“With me inside.”
“If necessary.”
Vincent went still.
“Necessary for what?”
“To stop you reaching downtown.”
“Why?”
Frank remained silent.
Vincent waited.
Silence had always been one of his better tools.
Eventually Frank said, “Halston wasn’t a meeting.”
“It was on my calendar.”
“That’s the point.”
“Explain.”
“Three men were waiting downtown.”
“I know.”
“They weren’t Halston representatives.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
“Men paid to detain you.”
“By whom?”
Frank shook his head.
“I don’t know the final name.”
“That answer disappoints me.”
“It’s true.”
“What was supposed to happen?”
“They were going to intercept you in the underground garage.”
“Kill me?”
“No.”
“You keep saying that.”
“They wanted you alive.”
“For what?”
“A transfer.”
“What transfer?”
“Corporate control.”
Now Vincent understood one part.
Someone wanted him physically removed while documents were executed in his absence.
But Vincent’s companies could not simply be transferred because he vanished.
Unless—
“Emergency succession.”
Frank nodded.
“If you were missing under suspicious circumstances, the temporary authority provisions activate after twenty-four hours.”
Vincent remembered the clause.
Created after his father suffered a heart attack years earlier.
Temporary control would pass to the family executive committee.
Three people.
Dominic.
Vincent’s cousin Anthony Marchetti.
And corporate counsel Raymond Vale.
Vincent looked at Frank.
“Which one?”
“I don’t know.”
“Again.”
“I swear.”
Vincent almost smiled.
“Men always swear when evidence gets expensive.”
Frank leaned forward.
“I was recruited to delay you, not murder you.”
“You still put a trigger under the car.”
“Because if you changed route, I needed a way to stop you.”
“And Mia?”
Frank’s eyes shifted.
There.
Fear.
“You saw her?”
“No.”
“Did you know she saw you?”
“No.”
“Why mention Alina’s husband?”
Frank’s mouth tightened.
“Because none of this started with you.”
Vincent said nothing.
“It started with Javier Ruiz.”
Alina’s late husband.
Vincent knew almost nothing about him.
Housekeeping file listed him as deceased.
Construction accident.
Three years earlier.
“What did Javier do?”
Frank looked surprised.
“You really don’t know.”
“No.”
“He worked for Marchetti Logistics.”
Vincent frowned.
“In what capacity?”
“Night warehouse supervisor.”
Vincent had thousands of employees.
The name meant nothing.
Frank continued.
“He found inventory that wasn’t supposed to exist.”
“What inventory?”
“Pharmaceutical shipments.”
Vincent’s body became still.
His legitimate freight companies carried medical supplies.
Legal.
Documented.
Frank lowered his voice.
“Not legal ones.”
Vincent felt anger beginning.
“What kind?”
“Opioids. Counterfeit pills. Fentanyl precursors.”
“No.”
“It’s true.”
“I shut those routes twelve years ago.”
“You shut yours.”
The wording mattered.
“Whose remained?”
Frank smiled bitterly.
“Now you’re asking the right question.”
Vincent stood.
“Name.”
“I don’t have one.”
Vincent leaned over the table.
“You installed a device beneath my vehicle. You threatened my life. You know details about an employee who died three years ago. Do not mistake the fact that I haven’t touched you for patience.”
Frank held his gaze.
“Javier found shipments moving through Marchetti warehouses using legitimate medical manifests. He started copying records.”
“And?”
“He contacted somebody inside your organization.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happened?”
“Three days later, he died at a construction site.”
Officially.
A fall from scaffolding.
Vincent remembered seeing reports.
Marchetti Construction had paid compensation to the widow.
Alina.
His stomach tightened.
“Was it an accident?”
Frank said nothing.
Vincent sat again.
“Frank.”
“No.”
The word came quietly.
Vincent’s anger changed.
Cold now.
“Who killed him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who ordered it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re remarkably uninformed for a traitor.”
Frank’s face hardened.
“I spent three years trying to figure it out.”
Vincent paused.
That was not the answer he expected.
Frank continued.
“I helped cover the shipment network at first.”
There it was.
“Why?”
“Money.”
At least honest.
“Then Javier died.”
“And that bothered you?”
“Yes.”
“After trafficking poison apparently didn’t?”
Frank flinched.
“I didn’t know exactly what was being moved.”
“That excuse is pathetic.”
“I know.”
Vincent stared.
“Why did Javier’s death change you?”
“Because I saw the report.”
“What report?”
“The one that said he fell.”
“And?”
“He didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Security footage.”
Vincent stopped.
“There was video?”
Frank nodded.
“Warehouse camera caught him being pushed.”
“Where is it?”
“Gone.”
“Copy?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Javier made one.”
Vincent thought of Alina upstairs.
“Did he give it to his wife?”
“I think so.”
“Then why doesn’t she know?”
“He may have hidden it.”
Vincent stood.
Frank added quickly, “That’s why they care about her.”
“Who?”
“The people behind this.”
“They hired her here?”
“Yes.”
Vincent went silent.
“Alina applied through an agency.”
“Agency was steered.”
“To put her inside my estate.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“So they could watch her.”
“Who?”
Frank shook his head.
“I only knew pieces.”
“You’re telling me somebody arranged for Javier Ruiz’s widow to work inside my home so they could monitor whether she found evidence he left behind.”
“Yes.”
“And Mia?”
Frank’s face changed.
“I don’t think anyone expected her.”
Upstairs, Alina sat in the breakfast room.
Mia slept across her lap.
When Vincent entered, she stood.
“What happened?”
“We need to talk.”
Her face tightened.
“About Frank?”
“About Javier.”
Every bit of color left her face.
That was enough.
“You knew he worked for me.”
“Yes.”
“But your employment file says he worked construction.”
“He did.”
“Before that.”
She lowered her eyes.
“Logistics.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I needed the job.”
“That isn’t the whole answer.”
“No.”
Vincent waited.
Alina looked toward Mia.
“He told me never to trust a Marchetti.”
The sentence struck harder than accusation.
“Why?”
“He came home scared three nights before he died.”
Just as Frank said.
“What did he tell you?”
“That he saw something in Warehouse Seven.”
Vincent’s mind moved instantly.
Warehouse Seven had been demolished two years ago.
“What?”
“He wouldn’t explain.”
“Did he give you anything?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Mia stirred.
Her small hand slipped from Alina’s lap.
A silver chain appeared around her wrist.
Vincent noticed a tiny pendant.
Not jewelry.
A metal tag.
Stamped with numbers.
He crouched.
“What’s that?”
Alina looked.
Her expression changed.
“I’ve never seen that before.”
Mia woke.
Vincent pointed gently.
“Where did you get this?”
The child blinked.
“Daddy box.”
Alina froze.
“What daddy box?”
Mia rubbed her eyes.
“Under bed.”
Alina stood so quickly the chair moved backward.
“Our apartment?”
Mia nodded.
Vincent called Dominic.
“Lock down the carriage house.”
Alina looked terrified.
“What is it?”
Vincent studied the metal tag.
Stamped on one side:
W7-318.
Warehouse Seven.
May you like
Whatever Javier Ruiz had hidden three years earlier had been close to Alina all along.
And somehow Mia had found it.
