Chapter 5 - The Price of Treason
The garage erupted into chaos before Carlo’s lead gunman could clear his holster.
A volley of suppressed rounds from Dante’s team tore through the windshields of the three Cadillacs, shattering safety glass in a violent shower of green crystals.
Two of Carlo's enforcers dropped to the asphalt, screaming in agony as tactical rounds shattered their knees with pinpoint precision.
The remaining six men instantly threw their weapons to the ground, diving face-first onto the wet concrete with their hands clasped behind their necks.
"Don't shoot! We yield! We yield!" one of the Bronx hitters shrieked into the pavement.
Carlo stood frozen between his front tires, his leathery face drained of every drop of blood, his hands trembling violently in the cold air.
"Nicholas... listen to me," Carlo wheezed, his voice cracking with pathetic, desperate terror. "This was business! Just business! You can have the papers! Take the transport authorization!"
I crossed the concrete with slow, deliberate steps, the heavy thud of my dress shoes echoing like a funeral march.
I stopped twelve inches from his face, looking down into his bulging, bloodshot eyes.
"Threatening my daughter wasn't business, Carlo," I whispered, my voice colder than a winter grave. "It was suicide."
I drove the heavy steel butt of my pistol into the side of his jaw with brutal, concussive force.
Bone shattered.
Carlo let out a wet, strangled cry, collapsing hard against the driver's side door, spitting blood and broken teeth onto the gravel.
He slid down the metal panel, clutching his ruined face with both hands, groaning in sheer agony.
I reached through the open window of his Cadillac, picking up the blue leather document folder lying on the passenger seat.
Inside was the federal organ procurement release form, stamped and authorized for immediate medical transport to St. Catherine.
"Dante," I commanded without looking back.
Dante stepped forward from the shadows, his tactical carbine slung across his chest.
"Yes, Boss?"
"Strip Carlo and his men of every phone, every weapon, and every vehicle," I ordered. "Deliver Carlo to the district attorney’s residence in Scarsdale with the complete wiretap recordings of his extortion attempt. Let the federal courts bury him for the rest of his natural life."
"And the northern territory?" Dante asked.
"Take it all," I said coldly. "By midnight, Carlo Moretti's family ceases to exist in the state of New York."
I turned on my heel and sprinted back toward the service stairwell, clutching the blue folder against my ribs.
My watch read 7:15 P.M.
Emily had less than three hours before her cardiac function crossed the point of irreversible cellular death.
When I burst back onto the fourth floor, Dr. Vance was waiting by the nurse's station, pacing back and forth with a cellular phone pressed tightly against his ear.
"Do you have the release?" Vance shouted, running toward me as soon as the elevator doors opened.
I thrust the blue folder into his chest.
"Signed, sealed, and verified. Where is the procurement jet?"
"Touching down at Teterboro right now," Vance answered, his eyes blazing with adrenaline. "State police escorts are waiting at the terminal gate. The donor heart will be inside this building in forty-two minutes."
I walked toward Room 414, my hands shaking for the first time all evening.
May you like
Through the glass window, I saw Lily sitting on the edge of Emily's bed, gently stroking her mother's pale hair with one hand while holding her crumpled five-dollar bill in the other.
"Hang on, Em," I whispered, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. "Your miracle is on the way."
