Chapter 4 - The Spider’s Web
By midday, my penthouse had transformed into an active military command center. Tactical maps of Queens and Bear Mountain were spread across the Italian marble dining table, illuminated by multiple glowing computer monitors.
Vincent was briefing a team of twelve heavily armed operators dressed in black sterile combat gear. ""The foundry in Queens is an obvious ambush,"" Vincent said, tapping a satellite map of an abandoned industrial park near Newtown Creek. ""Falcone has snipers positioned on the water tower and inside the rusted smelting kilns. If the Boss walks in through the main gates alone, they crossfire the courtyard within three seconds.""
""Which is why I won't be walking in alone,"" I said, stepping into the room.
I had traded my bloody hospital gown for a tailored charcoal three-piece suit. Underneath the silk vest, thick pressure bandages bound my fractured ribs tightly, numbing the pain with an unholy mix of prescription analgesics and sheer willpower. I adjusted my gold cufflinks, my eyes scanning the blueprints.
Clara stood by the doorway, wearing a clean pair of dark jeans and a black sweater one of my housekeepers had provided. She looked fragile against the backdrop of automatic rifles and body armor, but her chin was raised high.
""What about Arthur?"" she demanded, stepping directly into the center of the tactical circle. The mercenaries instinctively shifted their eyes to the floor, respecting the woman who had put their Don back together. ""If you go to the foundry, who gets my grandfather at Bear Mountain?""
""We split our forces,"" I answered. ""Falcon expects my entire empire to converge on Queens to protect me. He thinks his hunting cabin in Bear Mountain is an impenetrable secret. He left a token guard there—maybe eight men—while he sent his main strike force to the foundry to finish me.""
""I'm going to Bear Mountain,"" Clara said firmly.
""Absolutely not,"" I snapped, my tone brooking no argument. ""You stay here under twenty-four-hour lockdown until both sites are secured.""
""I am a doctor, Dante!"" she fired back, stepping right into my personal space, completely fearless despite the armed killers surrounding us. ""My grandfather is eighty-two years old! He has severe coronary artery disease and takes digitalis twice a day! If those animals haven't given him his medication, or if he suffers a cardiac event during a gunfight, your goons will bring me back a corpse! I am going on that transport, or so help me God, I will walk out of this building right now and call the federal marshals!""
Vincent cleared his throat, suddenly finding the crown molding on the ceiling fascinating.
I stared down at her, seeing the exact same fiery, stubborn little girl who had threatened to hit me with a rusty iron tire iron fifteen years ago when I first tried to push her out of the tractor shed. She hadn't changed at all.
""If you go,"" I said slowly, every syllable laced with iron, ""you wear Level IV body armor. You stay inside the armored vehicle until the site is declared cold. And you follow Vincent's orders without hesitation. If a gun fires, you drop to the deck. Do you understand me, Specs?""
She swallowed hard, nodding once. ""Understood.""
I turned back to Vincent. ""Take eight men. Take the silenced subcompacts and the thermal optics. Infiltrate the perimeter from the lake side. Do not engage until my car crosses the threshold at the Queens foundry. The moment I confirm Falcone is on site in Queens, you breach the cabin and extract Arthur.""
""And what about you, Boss?"" Vincent asked, genuine concern creasing his scarred forehead. ""You're walking into a slaughterhouse with only four men. Your ribs are barely held together by surgical thread.""
A cold, mirthless smile touched my lips as I checked the magazine of my customized .45 caliber pistol and racked the slide back with a sharp, metallic snap.
""Falcone spent fifteen years hunting a frightened orphan,"" I said. ""It's time he finally met the monster he created.""
I turned to Clara, stepping close enough that I could smell the familiar faint scent of lavender soap on her collar. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the dented silver mint tin, pressing it firmly into her palm.
""Hold onto this for me,"" I murmured.
May you like
""Why?"" she whispered, looking down at the tin with shining eyes. ""It's yours.""
""Because you always give it back,"" I replied softly, brushing a stray lock of chestnut hair from her cheek. ""And because I need a reason to come back alive.""
