Chapter 5 - The Trap at the Docks
The rain began to fall in heavy sheets around midnight, hammering against the slate roof of the estate. Thunder rolled across the lake, drowning out the faint sounds of the storm.
Roman stood in the darkness of Marco's private suite in the east wing. The room was pristine, impeccably organized just like its owner. Roman moved to the center of the room, rolled back the heavy Persian rug, and inspected the polished hardwood floor.
Using a small silver pocket knife, he traced the seam between two oak planks until he felt a slight give. He pressed down firmly on the corner plank. With a quiet click, a twelve-inch section of the floor popped up.
Inside the hidden cavity sat the small metal box Mia had drawn.
Roman opened the box. Inside were three forged passports under different names, an encrypted satellite phone, and the black DIA notebook filled with dates, bank account numbers, and names of Roman's key allies across Europe.
Everything was meticulously documented. Marco had been building this trap for over two years.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside.
Roman didn't panic. He carefully closed the box, placed it back into the cavity, fitted the floorboard into place, and smoothed the rug back over the wood. He stepped back into the shadows beside the floor-to-ceiling velvet drapes just as the door handle turned.
Marco walked in, drying his wet hair with a small towel. He looked rattled, his usual calm demeanor fraying around the edges. He carried a small red sketchbook—the one he had stolen from Mia's room during the blackout.
Marco threw the red sketchbook onto his desk, sat down, and quickly flipped through the pages. As he turned to the back, his hands stopped.
The pages were filled with harmless drawings of flowers, dogs, and sunshine. There was nothing about the floorboards, nothing about the metal box, nothing about the Valenti crest.
Marco swore under his breath, slamming his fist onto the wooden desk. "Dammit... it was just a kid's drawing book!"
He rubbed his temples, breathing heavily, unaware that Roman was watching him from less than ten feet away in the darkness.
Suddenly, Marco’s phone buzzed on the desk. He snatched it up immediately.
"Speak," Marco commanded in a harsh whisper.
A voice filtered through the phone speaker, audible to Roman in the silent room. "The informant confirmed it. Roman is moving the primary ledger to the Genoa safehouse tomorrow morning at dawn. If we strike the transport on the highway, we take down his entire financial structure in one move."
Marco smiled, his confidence instantly restored. "Excellent. I will make sure Roman drives the primary car himself. Position your shooters near the tunnel exit."
Marco hung up, chuckling softly to himself as he poured a glass of scotch from the decanter on his desk.
In the shadows, Roman's eyes burned with cold intensity. Marco had taken the bait. The information about the Genoa transport was a controlled leak Roman had planted three days ago to test his inner circle.
Now, Roman had the exact time, location, and plan of Marco's ambush.
Roman backed away toward the balcony doors, stepping out into the pouring rain without making a single sound. As he made his way along the ledge back to his study, he pulled out his phone and sent a short text to his trusted tactical crew in Milan:
May you like
Set the trap at the Genoa tunnel. We trap the vipers tomorrow at dawn.
He thought the plan was foolproof. But Roman had forgotten one crucial detail: Marco never operated alone, and someone inside the estate was still watching Grace and Mia.
