Chapter 8 - What Santino Hid Beneath the Floor
Matteo’s voice came from somewhere above the hidden chamber.
Calm.
Almost conversational.
That was the unsettling part.
Landon had known Matteo Rinaldi since he was nineteen.
Matteo had advised his father, attended weddings, funerals, christenings. He had held Leo as an infant. He had once sat beside Isabella through six hours at the hospital when Santino needed emergency surgery.
Now he stood above them and spoke like a man discussing a contract.
“Landon,” Matteo called. “You’re too intelligent to die over paperwork.”
Serena whispered, “How did he know?”
Landon looked toward the evidence.
“The house was watched.”
Dominic shook his head.
“My team swept it.”
“Not electronically. People.”
Serena closed her eyes.
“The coffee cup.”
Someone had been waiting.
Tracking.
Dominic quietly spoke into his radio.
No response.
Again.
Nothing.
Landon watched his expression.
“Your men?”
“Either blocked or compromised.”
Matteo spoke again.
“I’m offering you a chance your brother refused.”
Landon moved toward the ladder.
Serena caught his arm.
“What are you doing?”
“Talking.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“People say more when they think they’re winning.”
Dominic nodded.
“She’s right that it’s a terrible idea.”
Landon looked at him.
“Thank you for your support.”
He climbed halfway.
“Matteo.”
Silence.
Then:
“Good. I was afraid you’d become unreasonable.”
“You followed us from New York.”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“You know I won’t answer that.”
“So you admit there’s someone else.”
Matteo chuckled.
“Still sharp.”
Landon leaned against the ladder.
“What did Santino discover?”
“Too much.”
“You killed him?”
A pause.
Not denial.
That was enough.
Serena heard it too.
Her face tightened.
Matteo answered carefully.
“Your brother created circumstances that could no longer be managed.”
“That sounds like lawyer language for murder.”
“I never touched Santino.”
“Did you order it?”
“Landon, listen to me. There are decisions made at a level neither of us controls.”
That interested Landon.
Neither of us.
Matteo was not the top.
“Who controls it?”
“You don’t want that answer.”
“I do.”
“No. Santino did. Look where it got him.”
Below, Serena whispered, “Keep him talking.”
Landon almost smiled.
Apparently they were working together now.
“What do you want?”
“The drives.”
“And Serena?”
Matteo did not answer immediately.
Serena’s face went cold.
Landon understood.
“She walks.”
“You’re negotiating badly.”
“You taught me.”
“I taught you leverage.”
“Then you know she’s mine.”
Serena’s head snapped up.
Landon clarified immediately.
“Under my protection.”
She narrowed her eyes anyway.
Matteo laughed softly.
“Your brother said the same.”
Landon felt anger rise.
“What happened to Serena’s father?”
This time the pause was longer.
Below, Serena looked toward him.
Matteo finally said, “That was before my involvement.”
Not a denial.
Serena closed her eyes.
Landon continued.
“Who was involved?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know.”
“I know names. Names aren’t the same as truth.”
“Give me one.”
“No.”
Landon looked toward Dominic.
Dominic held up three fingers.
Then two.
Then one.
A faint signal blinked on his device.
Radio jammer located.
One of his men was moving toward it.
Landon needed time.
“Why fake Serena’s death?”
“To protect certain people.”
“By trying to kill her?”
“Again, you assume I controlled everything.”
“Then who did?”
Matteo’s patience thinned.
“Bring me the case.”
“No.”
“Landon.”
“No.”
“You inherited an empire. Santino nearly destroyed it because he wanted the world to be clean.”
“My brother wanted our name clean.”
“The world does not care about your ideals.”
“Neither do you.”
“No. I care about survival.”
Landon looked down at the files.
Perhaps that was the difference.
His father’s generation had survived through compromise.
Santino believed survival without conscience was merely another kind of death.
Landon had mocked him for saying things like that.
Now he understood.
Dominic’s radio crackled once.
A coded signal.
His team was ready.
Landon whispered, “Lights.”
Everything happened quickly.
The warehouse went dark.
Dominic climbed.
Security men entered through a side door.
Voices shouted.
Matteo’s men scattered.
No dramatic gunfight.
No chaos.
Just trained people moving in darkness.
Landon reached the upper floor as emergency lights flickered on.
Matteo was gone.
A rear door swung open.
Dominic ran outside.
Landon followed.
A black sedan accelerated from the far end of the harbor.
“Can we stop him?”
“Not safely.”
“Track?”
“Already.”
Serena emerged behind them holding the drive case.
“You let him escape.”
Landon looked at her.
“I let him believe he escaped.”
Dominic’s phone beeped.
Tracker active.
Matteo’s vehicle headed east.
“Where?” Landon asked.
Dominic watched the route.
“Palermo.”
Landon shook his head.
“He knows we’ll expect that.”
Serena looked at the map.
“He may be going to the airport.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Matteo hates flying at night.”
She stared.
“You know that?”
“I’ve traveled with him for fifteen years.”
Dominic zoomed out.
The car changed direction.
Landon’s expression hardened.
“Where does that road lead?”
Serena answered.
“Messina.”
“And after?”
“Ferry to mainland Italy.”
Landon understood.
Matteo was running.
Which meant the evidence mattered enough to frighten him.
They spent the next hour photographing everything from Santino’s cache and creating copies.
One set went with Landon.
Another with Serena.
A third was encrypted and uploaded through a secure server Dominic controlled.
At dawn, Landon called Evelyn Cross.
The prosecutor answered with suspicion.
“Who is this?”
“Landon Moretti.”
Silence.
“That’s either a terrible joke or a terrible morning.”
“I need to speak with you.”
“You have attorneys.”
“Not about me.”
“Then about what?”
“My brother.”
Another pause.
“Santino Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“He’s dead.”
“I know.”
“What do you want?”
“To give you something he died trying to deliver.”
Her tone changed.
“What?”
“Not over the phone.”
“Where are you?”
“Europe.”
“Then call your lawyer.”
“My lawyer is one of the people in the evidence.”
Silence.
“Mr. Moretti, if this is some kind of maneuver—”
“It isn’t.”
“Why me?”
“Because Santino chose you.”
This time Cross said nothing for several seconds.
Then:
“Your brother contacted me once.”
Landon froze.
“When?”
“Three days before he died.”
Serena looked toward him.
“What did he say?”
“That he had evidence of a criminal network operating through legitimate companies.”
“Why didn’t you investigate?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He never arrived at our second meeting.”
Landon closed his eyes.
“You never told us.”
“He asked me not to.”
Another secret.
Another promise.
“What did he give you?”
“Nothing.”
“He gave you something.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Santino never went anywhere empty-handed.”
Cross sighed.
“One photograph.”
“Of?”
“A man.”
“Who?”
“I never identified him.”
“Send it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because someone stole it from a federal evidence room forty-eight hours after Santino died.”
Landon felt the room turn cold.
That meant the network reached inside federal offices.
“Do you remember the face?”
“Yes.”
“Describe him.”
“Mid-fifties. Gray hair. Scar near the chin. Santino said the man had controlled the network for years.”
Landon looked at Dominic.
“Name?”
Cross hesitated.
“Santino never gave me one.”
“Anything else?”
“He said one sentence.”
“What?”
Cross repeated it.
“If my brother learns who this man is, he’ll understand why our father was afraid to leave the business.”
Landon stopped.
His father.
Victor.
Matteo.
The network existed before Santino.
Maybe before Landon.
“Send me a secure contact method,” Landon said.
Cross agreed.
The call ended.
Serena approached.
“What are you thinking?”
“That this didn’t begin with Matteo.”
“No.”
“And my father knew.”
Dominic looked toward Landon.
“Your father died five years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then who was he afraid of?”
Landon stared toward the harbor.
A memory surfaced.
He had been twenty-seven.
His father sick.
Weak.
For the first time in Landon’s life, frightened.
The old man had grabbed his wrist.
“There is one man you never challenge.”
Landon had thought illness caused confusion.
He had forgotten the name because the conversation made no sense.
Now the memory returned.
Not fully.
Just a first name.
Adrian.
Landon looked at Dominic.
“Find every Adrian connected to my father.”
Dominic began typing.
Three minutes later, he stopped.
“What?”
Dominic turned the screen.
An old corporate photograph.
Landon recognized the gray-haired man immediately.
He had attended his father’s funeral.
He had attended Santino’s funeral.
He had kissed Isabella’s cheek and told Leo that his father had been a good man.
Adrian Vale.
International financier.
Political donor.
Friend of presidents.
A man so respectable newspapers described his charity work more often than his businesses.
Serena whispered:
“That’s him.”
“How do you know?”
She pointed toward the open evidence crate.
“Because his name is on my father’s original accounting file.”
Landon looked at the photograph.
They had finally found the man above Matteo.
But at that exact moment, thousands of miles away in Manhattan, Isabella Moretti opened the door to the secure bedroom where Leo was supposed to be sleeping.
The bed was empty.
On the pillow lay the little wooden star Leo always carried.
And beside it was a note.
May you like
WE HAVE WHAT SANTINO LOVED MOST.
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