Chapter 6 - The King Sacrifices A Pawn
Nathan’s shoulder blades twitched. He didn't turn around—he didn't need to. He recognized the heavy, mechanical slide of Eddie’s Remington shotgun.
""Eddie,"" Nathan whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief. ""I recruited you. I pulled you out of the juvenile detention hall in Jersey when you were seventeen. I bought your mother's house.""
""And you lied to my boss,"" Eddie said from the shadows. ""You brought dirty business into Terminal Seven. You broke the only rule Mr. Calder gave us when he took over the waterfront: no dealing in blood behind our own men's backs.""
Vincent slowly stood up from behind the walnut desk. He walked around the polished wood, his heavy leather shoes making no sound against the Persian rug. He stopped three feet in front of Nathan's leveled barrel.
""You thought the men at the gate answered to you, Nathan?"" Vincent asked quietly. ""Those men grew up on my docks. Their fathers worked for my father. When Eddie went to Mercer Street tonight, he didn't go alone. He took Marco, Sal, and the Miller brothers. Your crew at the gate was disarmed and locked in the carriage house forty minutes ago.""
Nathan’s pale face flushed a furious, mottled red. The gun in his hand began to shake. ""You're bluffing. You wouldn't kill me, Vince. Not after Julian. Not after Mary. You don't have the stomach for it anymore.""
""You're right,"" Vincent said softly. ""I don't have the stomach for senseless slaughter. That's why I'm giving you a choice.""
Nathan swallowed hard, his eyes darting between Vincent's stone face and the black eye of the shotgun behind him. ""What choice?""
Vincent reached out and calmly, effortlessly pushed the barrel of the .38 downward until it pointed at the floor. Nathan didn't resist. His strength had drained out through his boots.
""The police detective who closed David Bennett's case is named Miller,"" Vincent said. ""He sits on the take from your south-ward crew. At eight o'clock tomorrow morning, you will walk into the central precinct on Tenth Street. You will turn yourself in for conspiracy to commit murder, corporate embezzlement, and racketeering. You will sign a full confession naming the two shooters you hired.""
Nathan stared at him in utter disbelief. ""Prison? You want me to spend the rest of my life in a federal penitentiary? They'll slit my throat in two weeks!""
""Then you'd better make friends with the guards,"" Vincent replied coldly. ""Because the only other option is the limestone quarry in Sussex County. The same quarry where we buried the men who thought they could steal from our family twenty years ago.""
Nathan looked down at his shoes. His hand opened, and the .38 clattered onto the mahogany floorboards.
""Take him down to the cellar,"" Vincent ordered Eddie. ""Strip him of his phone, his wallet, and his coat. Lock him in the vault until morning. If he breathes too loud, put a boot in his ribs.""
""Understood, boss,"" Eddie said, stepping forward and roughly twisting Nathan’s arms behind his back. The heavy handcuffs ratcheted shut with two loud, sharp clicks.
Nathan didn't fight back. As Eddie shoved him toward the service door, Nathan turned his head one last time. ""You think you're saving that girl, Vince? You think you're washing the blood off your hands? You're a monster, just like me. You'll always be a monster.""
Vincent didn't answer. He watched the door shut.
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Then he looked at the black ledger sitting on his desk. He reached out, picked up his gold fountain pen, and on the front page, beneath David Bennett's name, Vincent Calder wrote a single line:
Debt acknowledged. Paid in full.
