Chapter 4 - The Canceled Summit
At ten o’clock, Dante sat alone at the head of the dining table prepared for five families.
Twenty-four untouched place settings gleamed beneath the chandelier.
Crystal.
Silver.
White roses.
No guests.
The summit had been canceled with forty-seven minutes’ notice.
That was enough to create panic.
It was also enough to create insult.
His secure phone rang.
Gianni Ferraro spoke first.
“You embarrass four families and expect us to wait?”
“There was a security breach.”
“What breach?”
“I’ll explain when I know.”
“Your father would have known before canceling.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“My father is dead.”
“So may be the agreement.”
Ferraro disconnected.
The next call came from Teresa Vescari.
Unlike Ferraro, she sounded amused.
“I heard you found a microphone in your clothing.”
News had traveled impossibly fast.
Dante looked across the room at Marco.
Only six people knew precisely where the device had been found.
“How did you hear that?”
“People talk.”
“Which people?”
“People who enjoy watching Morettis panic.”
Dante ended the call.
Marco said, “We have a leak.”
Victor, seated near the fireplace, replied, “We already knew that.”
Dante turned toward him.
“Only this room, the library and Lily’s mother knew about the tie.”
Marco said, “And the guards.”
“Four men you hired.”
“Four men who have taken bullets for this house.”
Victor looked toward Dante.
“Loyalty is not immunity.”
Marco’s chair scraped backward.
“Say what you mean.”
Dante stopped them with a glance.
His phone vibrated again.
This time it was an unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Dante recognized it immediately.
He was twelve years old.
His father stood beside him on the dock at Red Hook.
Victor stood behind them.
And at the far edge of the photograph was a younger Marco Bellini.
Beside Marco stood Nico.
The message contained five words.
ASK WHO LIT THE MATCH.
Dante showed the screen to no one.
“Marco.”
“What?”
“Come with me.”
He took him into the pantry and closed the door.
Then he showed him the photograph.
Marco’s face drained of color.
“Where did you get that?”
“Now.”
“I haven’t seen this in twenty years.”
“Who took it?”
Marco studied the image.
“Your father’s photographer. Maybe Victor.”
Dante pointed toward Nico.
“This was before the fire.”
“Two weeks.”
“You remember the date?”
“I remember every day before my brother died.”
Dante believed him.
“What was happening at the dock?”
Marco’s mouth tightened.
“Nico had found something.”
“What?”
“I didn’t know then.”
“And now?”
Marco leaned against the counter.
“Your father was moving money through shipping companies. Nico worked night inventory. He told me containers were being entered twice—once in the real books, once in another ledger.”
Dante thought of Victor’s admission.
“Records Salvatore wanted destroyed.”
Marco nodded.
“After the fire, Nico’s apartment was searched. Nothing stolen except his work notebook.”
“Why join my father afterward?”
Marco’s stare became hard.
“To get close.”
The answer was so immediate Dante believed that too.
“Close enough to kill him?”
“For a while.”
Dante said nothing.
Marco looked away.
“I wanted to. Then your father offered me a job. I thought I could find proof.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“And you stayed fifteen years.”
“Because you weren’t him.”
Dante almost laughed.
“That may be the first kind thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Don’t get sentimental.”
“Did you plant the bug?”
“No.”
“Did you ever use Victor’s security credential?”
“No.”
“Where’s the eagle medallion?”
Marco looked at him again.
“I gave it to Nico the day the photograph was taken.”
Dante felt something shift.
“You said you lost it.”
“I did. He died wearing it.”
Dante stared.
“The fire department returned his personal effects.”
“Not the medallion.”
“Who collected them?”
Marco’s eyes moved toward the pantry door.
“Victor.”
When they returned to the dining room, Victor was standing by the windows.
Dante placed the old photograph on the table.
Victor’s shoulders lowered.
“Where did you get that?”
“Same question you asked about the bug.”
Victor saw the message.
ASK WHO LIT THE MATCH.
His face changed.
Dante said, “Marco says you collected Nico’s belongings after the fire.”
Victor remained silent.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Was the eagle medallion there?”
“Yes.”
Marco stepped forward.
“You told me there was nothing.”
Victor looked at him.
“I lied.”
“Where is it?”
“I gave it to Salvatore.”
Marco’s hands curled.
Dante positioned himself between them.
“Why?”
“Because it had something inside.”
Dante stared at him.
Victor continued.
“Nico had hollowed the back.”
“What was inside?”
“A key.”
“To what?”
Victor’s answer was interrupted by Elena entering the dining room.
She held a brown envelope.
“This came through the service entrance.”
Marco moved toward her.
“Who brought it?”
“No one. It was on the floor.”
Dante took the envelope.
Inside was the missing silver eagle medallion.
Its surface was blackened by fire.
Marco made a sound Dante had never heard from him.
Not anger.
Grief.
Dante turned the medallion over.
The back had been opened.
The hidden compartment was empty.
Taped inside the envelope was another message.
THE KEY OPENED WHAT YOUR FATHER FEARED.
Dante lifted his gaze.
Someone knew about Nico.
Someone knew about the fire.
Someone had the medallion.
And someone had just entered the mansion unnoticed.
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The surveillance device was no longer the most dangerous object in Dante’s house.
The past was.
