Chapter 12 - The Warehouse at the End of the River
The attack in the parking garage lasted less than three minutes.
Its purpose was not to kill Aleandro.
It was to take James Carver.
That became clear when two men ignored Aleandro and dragged the investigator toward an SUV.
Aleandro intervened.
No dramatic gunfight.
No cinematic exchange of bullets.
Just chaos.
Concrete.
Car doors.
Shouts.
Marco’s arrival.
Federal agents rushing up the ramp.
One attacker abandoned the vehicle and ran.
Another was arrested.
Carver remained alive.
Bruised.
Angry.
And finally convinced that his own investigation had been compromised.
Inside an unmarked federal office forty minutes later, Carver placed Lydia Foster’s personnel record on the table.
“Her real name is Lydia Greco?”
“Yes,” Aleandro said.
Carver looked sick.
“She passed background checks.”
“Vittorio could manufacture a dead cousin. A background check is paperwork.”
“She had access to witnesses.”
“Yes.”
“Matthew.”
Aleandro looked at him.
Carver’s face changed.
“Oh, God.”
“What?”
“Matthew contacted us before he died.”
“I know.”
“Lydia handled the intake.”
Silence.
“She knew everything he had.”
“And two days later he died,” Aleandro said.
Carver sat down.
For years he had blamed himself.
Now he saw how the leak happened.
“Elena is in danger.”
“Yes.”
“We move now.”
“No.”
Carver looked up.
Aleandro continued.
“Vittorio expects force.”
“And?”
“So we stop giving him expected things.”
Marco entered.
“Adrian moved Elena.”
“Where?”
“Not sure.”
Aleandro’s phone buzzed.
A photograph.
Elena holding Bunny.
Impossible.
Bunny was at the mansion.
Aleandro zoomed.
Not Bunny.
A similar stuffed rabbit.
Message beneath:
WAREHOUSE SEVEN. 8 P.M. COME FOR THE MAID.
Marco frowned.
“Adrian?”
“No.”
Aleandro recognized Lydia’s habit.
She had sent files during the garage ambush using the same encrypted formatting.
“She wants us at the warehouse.”
Carver said, “Trap.”
“Obviously.”
“Then we don’t go.”
Aleandro stood.
“We absolutely go.”
At 7:52 p.m., Warehouse Seven glowed with temporary floodlights.
Police and federal units remained four blocks away.
Aleandro had agreed to cooperation under one condition.
No assault unless he signaled.
Carver disliked it.
Everyone disliked it.
But there were potentially two hostages.
Elena.
Lucas Bellini.
Aleandro entered with Marco.
The warehouse was enormous.
Empty containers formed corridors.
At the center, Lydia Greco waited.
She looked different without glasses.
Younger than Aleandro expected.
Early forties.
Vittorio’s eyes.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“Where is Elena?”
“Always direct.”
“Where?”
Lydia smiled.
“Not here.”
Marco muttered.
“Shocking.”
Lydia ignored him.
“You’ve caused my father considerable trouble.”
“He caused his own.”
“He built your family.”
“No.”
“He protected it.”
“He murdered Matthew Rossi.”
“You can prove that?”
“Yes.”
Her smile weakened.
Aleandro noticed.
Good.
“You don’t have the notebook.”
“I do.”
“Adrian has it.”
“A copy.”
For the first time, Lydia looked uncertain.
Aleandro continued.
“Your father trained you to assume everyone else is slower.”
“My father trained me to survive.”
“He trained you to clean up his mistakes.”
That struck something.
Lydia’s expression sharpened.
“You know nothing about me.”
“I know you spent years inside a federal investigation protecting a man who would sacrifice you without hesitation.”
“You’re trying to divide us.”
“No.”
Aleandro stepped closer.
“I’m telling you what happens next.”
Lydia laughed.
“You don’t control what happens next.”
“Neither do you.”
He pointed toward the ceiling.
“Carver knows who you are.”
Lydia’s face emptied.
“You’re lying.”
“He knows everything.”
“You would never cooperate with federal agents.”
“People change.”
That was perhaps the most surprising sentence Aleandro Moretti had ever spoken.
Lydia’s phone rang.
She answered.
Vittorio.
His voice was loud enough for Aleandro to hear.
“Leave. Now.”
Lydia looked toward the western door.
Too late.
Federal vehicles moved outside.
Lydia whispered, “You said we had until midnight.”
“Plans changed.”
“Where are you?”
Vittorio hung up.
Lydia stared at her phone.
Aleandro watched realization spread.
Her father had abandoned her.
“He left you.”
“Shut up.”
“He always intended to.”
“You don’t know him.”
“I know men like him.”
She backed away.
Marco said, “Lydia.”
She turned.
Federal agents entered.
Carver called her name.
For several seconds, Lydia looked like she might run.
Then she dropped her phone.
Not surrender exactly.
Collapse.
“My father has the boy.”
Aleandro approached.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about Elena?”
Lydia closed her eyes.
“He took her.”
Aleandro’s control almost snapped.
“When?”
“An hour ago.”
“From Adrian?”
“Adrian tried to stop him.”
“Is Adrian alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where did Vittorio take Elena?”
Lydia shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Aleandro leaned closer.
“What did he say?”
She began crying.
“He said he was going home.”
The mansion.
Marco looked at Aleandro.
But Lydia grabbed his sleeve.
“No. Not the mansion.”
“What home?”
“My father grew up in St. Vincent.”
Aleandro knew it.
An abandoned neighborhood west of the city.
Most buildings demolished.
Vittorio’s childhood house no longer existed.
Then Marco remembered.
“The old Moretti social club.”
Vittorio’s father had worked there.
It remained standing.
Aleandro turned.
Lydia stopped him.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“He said he wanted you to remember where your fathers made their first agreement.”
Aleandro knew exactly where.
Not the club.
The old rail yard behind it.
In 1978, Vittorio’s father and Aleandro’s grandfather had signed their first shipping contract inside an abandoned station office.
The beginning of the Moretti business partnership.
Vittorio was taking Elena back to where everything started.
But Carver received another call before they could leave.
His face changed.
“What?”
Carver lowered the phone.
“The Moretti accounts just froze.”
Aleandro checked the time.
8:17.
Nearly four hours early.
Vittorio had accelerated the final phase.
Phones began ringing.
Managers.
Banks.
Lieutenants.
Employees.
Rumors spread that Aleandro had stolen millions and abandoned the organization.
Vittorio was forcing him to choose.
Save his empire.
Or save Elena.
Aleandro turned off his phone.
Marco stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Choosing.”
“The accounts—”
“Can be rebuilt.”
“The companies?”
“Can be rebuilt.”
“Your position?”
Aleandro looked toward the door.
“Elena cannot.”
And for the first time in his life, Aleandro Moretti walked away from an empire to save one employee.
May you like
What he did not yet understand was that Elena had no intention of waiting quietly to be rescued.
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