Chapter 4 - The Man Nick Trusted
Morgan Cold Storage had been abandoned for six years.
Its windows were boarded, its brick walls stained black by decades of harbor pollution.
Nick parked three blocks away.
Rachel looked at the building.
“This is where my father died.”
Nick turned.
“What?”
“His car went through the guardrail less than a mile from here.”
Nick’s expression changed.
Rachel opened the door.
“Come on.”
Inside, the warehouse smelled of mold, rust and seawater.
Daniel’s photograph showed four men standing beside loading bay number six.
They found it near the rear.
Nothing.
Rachel searched the wall.
Nick searched the floor.
Then Rachel noticed four tiny marks scratched into the steel frame.
D.A.
Her father's initials.
Below them was an arrow.
It pointed toward a drainage grate.
Nick removed the grate.
Beneath it sat a waterproof metal case.
Rachel stared.
“My God.”
Inside was a ledger.
Not a copy.
The original.
Payments.
Container numbers.
Police badge numbers.
Judges.
Union officials.
Politicians.
And beside dozens of transactions were Victor Santoro’s initials.
Rachel turned a page.
Then stopped.
There was an entry dated two days before her father's death.
D. ADAMS — 75K — CLEANUP.
Her fingers went numb.
“Cleanup.”
Nick closed his eyes briefly.
Rachel whispered, “They paid seventy-five thousand dollars to kill my father.”
Nick had no comforting lie.
“Yes.”
She backed away.
For eight years, Rachel had imagined her father losing control of his car.
Rain.
A mechanical failure.
A terrible accident.
Now his death had a price.
Seventy-five thousand dollars.
She sank onto an old crate.
Nick crouched in front of her.
Rachel wiped her face angrily.
“Don't.”
“I wasn't going to say anything.”
“Good.”
For several moments, he simply stayed there.
Then footsteps sounded.
Nick rose instantly.
A familiar voice came from the darkness.
“Nicky?”
Nick froze.
Anthony Russo stepped into the loading bay with both hands visible.
Nick's oldest friend.
His most trusted man.
“You're hard to find.”
Nick's hand remained near his gun.
“How did you find me?”
Anthony smiled sadly.
“That’s how we're greeting each other now?”
“How?”
“I tracked the car.”
Nick’s eyes hardened.
Only someone inside his organization could have done that.
Anthony saw the ledger.
“Jesus.”
Rachel stood.
Anthony looked at her.
“So this is the waitress.”
“Careful,” Rachel said. “Apparently we're dangerous.”
Anthony almost laughed.
Then Nick asked, “Did you tell Victor?”
“No.”
“Did you know what he was doing?”
Anthony’s smile vanished.
“Not until six months ago.”
Nick went still.
Rachel stared at him.
“You knew?”
Anthony exhaled.
“I knew Victor was stealing. I didn't know about Adams. I didn't know he was moving weapons.”
“Six months,” Nick repeated.
“I was trying to prove it.”
“You should have told me.”
“Victor is your uncle. The man practically raised you. You think I could walk into your office and accuse him without proof?”
“Yes.”
Anthony looked wounded.
“Then maybe I misjudged you.”
Nick stepped closer.
“Or maybe I misjudged you.”
A gunshot exploded.
Anthony jerked.
Blood appeared across his shoulder.
“Down!”
Nick shoved Rachel behind a concrete pillar.
More shots tore through the loading bay.
Victor’s men had followed Anthony.
Nick returned fire while Anthony crawled behind cover.
Rachel spotted a side stairwell.
“There!”
They moved.
Anthony stumbled.
Rachel caught him.
“You're heavier than you look.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn't a compliment.”
Even bleeding, Anthony laughed.
They escaped onto the roof and crossed into the adjacent building using an old maintenance bridge.
Twenty minutes later, they reached the car.
Nick ripped out the tracking device hidden beneath the rear bumper and crushed it beneath his boot.
Anthony leaned against the passenger door.
“I didn't lead them intentionally.”
Nick said nothing.
“That supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.”
Rachel wrapped Anthony's shoulder using gauze from the emergency kit.
Anthony grimaced.
“You really are a waitress?”
“Right now I'm considering charging you for medical service.”
Nick watched the street.
“We need somewhere Victor doesn't know.”
Anthony looked at him.
“There is one place.”
An hour later, they entered a modest house in Bay Ridge.
The woman who opened the door was seventy-three, five feet tall and immediately slapped Nick across the face.
Rachel stared.
“Ma.”
“Three weeks!” Teresa Santoro shouted. “You disappear for three weeks and don't call your mother?”
“I was working.”
“You look terrible.”
“I’m fine.”
Teresa noticed Rachel.
Her anger vanished.
“Oh.”
Rachel suddenly looked more frightened than she had during the gunfight.
Nick sighed.
“Ma, this is Rachel.”
Teresa smiled.
“You brought a girl.”
“She's not—”
“Come inside. You're freezing.”
Within ten minutes, Rachel was sitting at a kitchen table eating homemade soup while Teresa interrogated her about whether Nick had remembered to offer her food.
Nick stood in the doorway, looking almost helpless.
Rachel whispered, “I like her.”
“Everyone does.”
“You're scared of her.”
“Everyone is.”
For one strange hour, the world felt normal.
Then Teresa saw the ledger.
Her face changed.
She touched Victor's name.
“I told your father not to trust his brother.”
Nick stared at her.
“You knew?”
“I knew Victor wanted what your father had.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because after your father died, Victor became everything to you.”
Nick's voice lowered.
“My father died of a heart attack.”
Teresa looked at him with unbearable sadness.
“No, Nicholas.”
Silence swallowed the kitchen.
Rachel slowly lowered her spoon.
Teresa continued.
“Your father was poisoned.”
Nick stopped breathing.
“Victor told everyone it was his heart because he controlled the doctor.”
Nick's face drained.
“Why?”
“Because your father discovered what Victor was doing at the docks.”
Teresa touched the ledger.
“Daniel Adams wasn't Victor's first victim.”
Nick stared at the man’s initials.
For thirty-five years, Victor Santoro had been his uncle.
His mentor.
His second father.
Now one terrible possibility eclipsed everything else.
Victor had not raised Nick out of love.
He had raised him because he had murdered Nick’s father and needed to control the son.
Then the house lights went out.
Teresa looked toward the window.
Nick drew his gun.
May you like
Outside, engines surrounded the house.
Victor had found them.
