Chapter 6 - The Spider's Web
Marco collapsed back into his chair, clutching his broken left arm against his ribs, panting heavily, tears of pain leaking from his clenched eyes. "You think... you think you've won, Dante?" he wheezed, spit flying from his lips. "Julian Thorne has sixty armed mercenaries stationed at the old rail yard on 31st Street. If that seventy million doesn't hit the escrow account by midnight, he isn't waiting for the legal fallout. He has teams assigned to breach this mansion and slaughter every living soul inside. You, your guards, that pathetic housekeeper, and her brat. You're already dead, Dante!"
I glanced at the heavy tactical watch on my right wrist. It was 10:45 PM. We had one hour and fifteen minutes before Julian Thorne realized the trap had collapsed.
"Julian Thorne is an arrogant predator, Marco," I said, pulling a second encrypted phone from my inner pocket. "And like all arrogant predators, he assumes everyone else is as predictable as he is."
I dialed a single pre-programmed speed-dial number. The call connected on the second ring.
"Romano," a gravelly, authoritative voice answered. It was Special Agent Marcus Vance of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Organized Crime Strike Force. For eighteen months, Vance had been investigating the Thorne syndicate, frustrated by Thorne’s spotless digital operational security and insulated command structure.
"Agent Vance," I said clearly. "I have the definitive physical and digital evidence you've been chasing. I have Marco Bellini in custody. He has provided a full, recorded confession linking Julian Thorne directly to the municipal extortion rackets, interstate corporate espionage, and a planned violent assault tonight at 31st Street."
On the other end of the line, I heard the sudden rustle of papers and the barking of orders to tactical teams. "Are you certain of this, Dante? If we mobilize the regional SWAT task force, there’s no turning back."
"I’m uploading the audio and video package to your secure server right now," I said, tapping the trackpad on the laptop. A green progress bar surged across the screen, transmitting the encrypted archive to the federal database. "Furthermore, Marco’s burner phone contains the direct satellite frequency used by Thorne’s strike team. You have seventy minutes to encircle the 31st Street rail yard before they mobilize."
Vance’s breath hitched as the file confirmation dinged on his end. "Good God, Romano. This is enough to dismantle Thorne’s entire organization from the top down. Keep your estate locked down. We're rolling out."
I hung up the phone and looked down at Marco, who was staring at me in disbelief. His face was gray, his breathing shallow.
"You went to the feds?" Marco choked out, horrified. "You broke the code! We don't talk to the government!"
"The code was built on loyalty, Marco," I said, securing my weapon back in its holster. "You forfeited your right to that brotherhood the moment you pointed a gun at my home and threatened an innocent child. You aren't a soldier in an honorable war. You're an extortionist, a traitor, and a coward."
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I walked over to the heavy steel door, punched in the release code, and signaled into the hallway. Two of my most trusted personal bodyguards—men who had served with me for fifteen years and answered only to my private payroll—stepped inside with heavy zip-ties and medical splints.
"Patch his arm," I ordered coldly. "Tie him to the chair. If he makes a sound, gag him. When Agent Vance arrives, hand him over like the common criminal he is."
