Chapter 19 - the silver thread
Nathan stepped out from behind a massive oak tree, his tall frame blocking the moonlight, his weapon pointed directly at Vance's chest.
"You should have taken the flight to Panama, Counselor," Nathan said quietly.
Vance dropped the crowbar onto the wet gravel, falling to his knees in the mud, his hands raised high above his head, tears streaming down his face. "It wasn't my idea, Nathan! I swear to God! Domenico lost his mind when he found out you had the microfilm! He ordered the strike from his bed! He's sitting in his car on the main road right now waiting for the signal!"
Nathan stared down at the pathetic man kneeling in the rain. He didn't pull the trigger. Death was too quick an escape for a man who had spent thirty years leeching off the sweat of poor seamstresses and orphan girls.
"Get up," Nathan ordered, grabbing Vance by his coat collar and hauling him to his feet. "You are going to drive me to Domenico's car. And then you are going to tell him that the Moretti family under my reign does not keep traitors."
Ten minutes later, a black luxury sedan was parked on the shoulder of the dark country highway two miles from the estate. Sitting in the rear passenger seat, breathing through a portable oxygen machine, was Don Domenico Moretti—an frail, grey-haired old man whose hands were swollen with arthritis and liver disease.
When Nathan opened the rear door, Domenico looked up, his sunken eyes flickering with a mixture of ancient hatred and sudden, terrible realization.
"Nathan..." the old man rasped through his oxygen mask. "You cannot kill your father's brother... the council... the council will burn Chicago to the ground..."
"The council is already dead, Domenico," Nathan said, tossing the three leather ledgers onto the old man's lap. "I surrendered these books to the Federal Prosecutor twenty minutes ago. By sunrise, every asset tied to your name, Vance's firm, and the elder council will be seized by the United States government."
Domenico stared at the ledgers in his lap, his jaw trembling, his breath rattling violently in his chest as his empire crumbled into dust before his eyes.
"You destroyed us..." Domenico whispered, his voice cracking. "For a woman... and an illegitimate brat..."
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"I saved us," Nathan said, stepping back from the car door. "My mother built this family on honest work. You turned it into a slaughterhouse. Live long enough to see the trial, old man."
Nathan slammed the car door shut, turning to Marco who stood nearby. "Call the state police. Tell them Don Domenico Moretti is waiting on Route 12 with three million dollars in illegal bearer bonds in his trunk."
