Chapter 5 - Blood Money And Blackmail
""You're using the wrong leverage, Dean,"" Vincent's voice echoed through the damp stone cellar, calm, velvety, and chillingly sudden.
Dean shrieked, dropping the crowbar with a wet clatter into the puddle. He scrambled backward on his hands and knees, scrambling for the heavy revolver tucked into the waistband of his mud-soaked jeans.
He never touched the grip.
Vincent closed the distance in two blurring strides, his heavy leather boot coming down squarely on Dean's wrist with a sickening crack. Dean screamed in agony, clutching his shattered arm as he writhed in the stagnant muck.
""Please! Don't shoot! Take the money, take whatever is in the box!"" Dean blubbered, his face pale with horror as he recognized the towering figure standing over him. ""Mr. Vale... Jesus Christ, Mr. Vale, I didn't know you were coming here! I swear to God I was just cleaning up the damage from the storm!""
Vincent reached down, grabbed Dean by the collar of his damp jacket, and hauled him up onto his feet with effortless strength, slamming him against the concrete wall. The broken steel cable that had bound Evelyn still dangled from the shelf two feet away, a silent testament to the cruelty committed in the dark.
""Where is she, Dean?"" Vincent asked softly.
Dean swallowed hard, terror rattling his jaw so violently he could barely form words. ""Who? The Ward girl? She... she drowned, Mr. Vale! The storm drain burst! I tried to get down here to help her, I swear I did, but the fire door slammed shut and—""
Vincent’s fist struck Dean’s jaw like a sledgehammer. The impact echoed through the basement. Dean’s head snapped back, blood spraying across the gray stone before his knees buckled. Vincent held him up by his collar, unbothered by the blood staining his cuffs.
""Do not lie to me about things I witnessed with my own eyes,"" Vincent whispered, his face inches from Dean’s terrified eyes. ""I cut her loose. I carried her out while you were drinking coffee at Frank Russo’s warehouse.""
Dean’s eyes bulged with pure panic. ""Frank told me to do it! He said the girl found the secondary books! He said if she went to the cops or took the papers to you, we were both dead! He told me to make it look like an accident!""
From the top of the stairs, Evelyn walked down slowly, her steps steady on the wet risers. When Dean saw her emerge from the gloom, wrapped in a warm coat and very much alive, he let out a choked gasp as if he were staring at a ghost rising from the river.
""Evelyn..."" he stammered, his voice trembling. ""Evelyn, tell him! I gave you extra shifts! I helped you with Lily's meds!""
""You chained me to a shelf and walked away while the water was up to my waist,"" Evelyn said, her voice devoid of fear, filled only with cold, righteous disgust. ""You told me poor girls survived longer when they didn't ask questions. Well, I have a question, Dean. What’s in the hatch?""
Vincent dropped Dean onto the mud like a bag of wet garbage. Noah stepped forward, pressing the barrel of his pistol against the back of Dean's neck, ensuring the man didn't move an inch.
Vincent picked up the crowbar, wedged it into the seam of the iron hatch, and with a single heave of his shoulders, wrenched the rusted seal open. Beneath the concrete plate lay a waterproof tactical Pelican case, chained to an iron ring in the foundation.
Vincent used the crowbar to snap the lock, flipping the lid open. Inside sat three thick, leather-bound accounting ledgers, along with a stack of encrypted thumb drives, half a dozen fake passports, and stacks of banded hundred-dollar bills totaling easily over a million dollars.
Vincent opened the first ledger. The pages were immaculate, preserved inside airtight plastic sleeves. The entries went back eight years. Every extortion payment, every laundered dollar from the port, every stolen medical trust fund—meticulously documented in Frank Russo’s neat, flowing cursive.
And right across the top of the most recent page was a handwritten transfer order dated two days ago:
Liquidate Ward Trust remainder: $450,000. Transfer to Nassau Maritime Ltd. Authorize termination of dependents upon completion.
Evelyn read the words over Vincent’s shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat. Frank hadn't just intended to let her drown; he had planned to pull the plug on Lily’s dialysis funding the very next morning.
Vincent closed the book with a heavy thud that sounded like the closing of a tomb. He looked down at Dean, his dark eyes void of mercy.
""Noah,"" Vincent said.
""Yes, boss?""
""Hand Dean his phone.""
Noah pulled Dean’s phone from the man’s mud-stained jacket and shoved it into his trembling, uninjured hand.
""Call Frank,"" Vincent ordered. ""Tell him the water has receded. Tell him the girl’s body has been recovered from the cellar, and the records have been secured. Tell him you’re bringing the Pelican case to his private hangar at the airport right now.""
Dean swallowed his blood, nodding frantically. ""And... and then what? You let me walk?""
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Vincent leaned in close, his voice chillingly absolute. ""If you do exactly what I tell you, you will walk into a federal penitentiary and spend thirty years in a concrete cell. If you deviate from my script by one syllable, I will chain you to this same shelf, lock the front door, and wait for the afternoon rain.""
Dean dialed with shaking fingers.
