Chapter 6 - The Setup at Lakeshore Provisions
By noon, the atmosphere inside the Moretti Hospitality corporate headquarters had transformed from quiet luxury into a fortified command center. Dante had arranged for a private physician to examine my ankle in his executive office. The doctor wrapped the torn ligament securely in a lightweight, rigid fiberglass support brace, administering a mild local anti-inflammatory injection that finally dulled the agonizing throbbing to a manageable ache. For the first time in three days, I could put my foot flat on the floor without seeing stars.
Dante’s executive suite was located on the thirty-fourth floor, wrapped in floor-to-ceiling glass that looked out over the gray expanse of the harbor. Across the mahogany conference table, stacks of bank statements, transaction logs, and digital server backups sat arranged under my supervision.
Frank Rossi walked into the room carrying a leather portfolio, his customary affable grin plastered across his face.
""Dante, word on the street is that Brandt is panicking,"" Frank said, pulling out a chair and sitting down with casual confidence. ""He claims your boys cornered him in the subway this morning. If you start shaking down local warehouse operators, the city council committee is going to start looking into our port permits again.""
Dante remained standing by the panoramic window, his back turned to Frank. ""Brandt was shaking down Clara for forty thousand dollars over an imaginary debt. I don't tolerate thieves on my payroll, and I certainly don't tolerate them touching my staff.""
Frank chuckled, a smooth, practiced sound. ""Well, that's admirable, boss. But Brandt is small fry. Cut him loose, take the fifty grand loss on the vendor invoices, and let's keep the business clean.""
""It's not fifty grand, Frank,"" I interrupted, sliding a thick blue folder across the table toward him.
Frank looked down at the folder, then glanced up at me, his smile wavering at the corners. ""Excuse me, Clara?""
""It’s three million, two hundred thousand dollars,"" I stated, my voice echoing with absolute authority across the silent room. ""Lakeshore Provisions was never just an overbilling scam for restaurant supplies. That was just the petty cash left over to keep Tony Brandt satisfied. The real money was being diverted through secondary wire transfers to a private trust fund registered in the Cayman Islands under the name Rossi Capital Management.""
The color drained from Frank Rossi’s face in an instant. The silver-haired patriarch, who had served the Moretti family for three decades, looked down at the signatures highlighted in yellow ink.
""Clara’s father William kept duplicate records before he died,"" Dante said, turning slowly from the window. ""He knew someone would try to falsify the books once my father was gone. He left the digital decryption keys encoded inside the very software Clara used to balance the kitchen accounts this morning.""
Frank stared at the documents, his chest heaving. The charming facade of the loyal elder statesman cracked, revealing the bitter, venomous ambition underneath. ""Your father was weak, Dante,"" Frank spat, his voice dropping all pretense of warmth. ""He wanted to go legitimate. He wanted to turn all this power into hotels, catering halls, and luxury condos while the other syndicates were taking over the waterfront. William Hale was too loyal for his own good. He wouldn't give me the offshore codes, so I had Brandt handle him.""
""And you made his daughter pay Brandt every Friday just to keep her silent and broken,"" Dante added, his voice dropping into a register of terrifying calm.
Frank sneered, leaning forward over the table. ""She was insurance. As long as she thought she was paying off her father's disgrace, she would never start asking the real questions. But you made a mistake bringing her into this building, Dante. Do you think I came up here without a contingency plan?""
Frank slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, but before his fingers could close around the grip of his concealed firearm, the heavy mahogany double doors of the boardroom burst open. Four armed guards, accompanied by two federal agents in dark blue jackets, poured into the room, their weapons trained squarely on Frank's chest.
""Hands flat on the table, Rossi!"" the lead agent commanded.
Frank froze, his eyes darting frantically between the federal badges and Dante’s impassive face.
""You brought the Feds into our business?"" Frank whispered, horrified.
May you like
""You committed wire fraud, extortion, and interstate embezzlement, Frank,"" Dante answered coldly. ""The hospitality group is clean. You, on the other hand, are going to spend the rest of your natural life in a supermax facility. Take him out.""
***
