Chapter 2 - The Sinking Truth
The sun sank beneath the dark line of Rhode Island's coast, painting the sky in deep bruises of purple and crimson. Two tactical divers plunged into the chilly waters of Narragansett Bay, their underwater spotlights cutting through the murky depths beneath the Aurelia's multimillion-dollar hull.
Above water, tension strangled the dock. Clare Bennett stood near the service entrance, her knuckles white as she squeezed Sophie’s small hands. She had worked at the Romano mansion for nearly three years, always keeping her head low, scrubbing marble floors, laundering silk linens, and slipping out of sight whenever the powerful crime boss held his secret meetings. She knew what kind of man Dominic Romano was: ruthless to his enemies, generous to his loyal staff, but merciless to anyone caught in a lie.
""Mr. Romano,"" Clare said, her voice shaking slightly. ""If... if Sophie is in danger because she spoke up, please let me take her away. I will pack our things and leave Rhode Island tonight.""
Dominic turned toward her, his severe expression softening with genuine warmth. ""Clare, your daughter ran directly toward danger to warn a room full of people she barely knows. That is courage most grown men in my organization do not possess. You are under my personal protection. From this second forward, nobody touches you or Sophie. Marco, take Clare and the child to the main estate's private safe room. Double guard on the doors.""
""No!"" Sophie protested suddenly, wrapping her arms around her mother's leg. ""Mommy, don't leave! The man on the phone... he said the timer starts when the boat’s engine wakes up!""
Just as Sophie spoke, the yacht’s secondary auxiliary generator hummed to life, automatically kicking on to regulate the salon’s climate controls. A low mechanical vibration shuddered through the dock boards.
On the radio, diver Tony’s panicked voice crackled to the surface: ""Boss! We found it! Port side keel, magnetically attached right next to the main fuel reserve tank! It's military-grade C4 composite, sealed inside an airtight Pelican case! And there’s an active hydro-acoustic sensor wired to the propeller shaft!""
Gavin’s face tightened with grim vindication. ""A vibration trigger. The second the main engines engaged and the screws turned twice, the acoustic sensor would have completed the circuit. The whole bay would have erupted in a fireball. None of us would have made it past the harbor mouth.""
Dominic's cold eyes shifted toward Elliot, who was sweating profusely despite the freezing sea wind.
""Incredible,"" Elliot stammered, pulling out a silk handkerchief to wipe his brow. ""Thank God... thank God we stopped. Uncle Dominic, someone in the rival Moretti syndicate must have bribed one of our dockhands. They knew we were holding the annual family council tonight. They wanted to wipe out the whole bloodline in one blow!""
""The Morettis don't use acoustic vibration triggers, nephew,"" Dominic remarked quietly, walking slowly toward Elliot. ""The Morettis are old-school Sicilians. They prefer a stolen sedan with three gunmen spraying automatic rounds at a restaurant window. This level of technical sophistication requires deep contacts in private military contracting. Contacts like the ones our logistics branch acquired in Eastern Europe last spring.""
Elliot swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. ""Well... yes, but hundreds of contractors have access to that hardware. We sell maritime security equipment across the Atlantic.""
""Indeed we do,"" Dominic agreed smoothly. ""And who signed off on the security clearance for the new Romanian marine technicians last Tuesday, Elliot? You did.""
""I was doing my job as Vice President of Operations!"" Elliot retorted, his voice rising in panic. ""Are you honestly going to suspect your own sister’s son over the babbling of a housekeeper's six-year-old child? Look at her! She probably heard dock workers telling ghost stories!""
Before Dominic could respond, diver Tony surfaced near the boarding ladder, hauling a sealed, dripping metal case safely detached from the hull. He climbed onto the dock and set it down. The digital display on the casing showed a blinking red sequence: ARMED – AWAITING PROP ROTATION.
""Sir,"" Tony panted, wiping saltwater from his face mask. ""The magnet was brand new. But that's not all. Stuck to the underside of the mounting bracket was an adhesive service tag from our own warehouse in Boston. Serial number 884-Bravo.""
Dominic looked at Gavin. ""Gavin, who runs warehouse 884-Bravo?""
Gavin didn't hesitate. ""Elliot's private investment subsidiary. The one that was audited last week for missing funds.""
A collective gasp went up from the family members gathered on the upper terrace. Elena Romano, Dominic’s sister, stared down at her son in pure horror.
May you like
""Elliot?"" she cried, her voice trembling. ""What is your uncle talking about? What missing funds?""
The mask of the respectful nephew completely fell away. Elliot took two rapid steps backward toward his Mercedes parked by the marina gates, his hand dipping suspiciously toward his coat.
