Chapter 5 - a false lead
Gabriel reacted instantly. He lunged across the small distance, throwing his massive body over Claire and Mia, shielding both of them as a second round whistled through the shattered window, ripping through the plaster ceiling above them.
"Stay down!" Gabriel barked, pulling his heavy custom pistol from his shoulder holster.
He dragged Claire and the child off the armchair, pulling them down behind the thick, solid-oak writing desk near the interior wall. Mia woke up screaming in terror, her small hands clutching her mother's uniform.
Gabriel pulled his comms unit from his collar. "Marco! Sniper on the north ridge! Seal the perimeter and deploy the strike team!"
"On it, Don Gabriel!" Marco’s voice roared through the earpiece over the sound of blaring alarms across the estate grounds.
Outside, the heavy thump of tactical boots and the sharp crack of return rifle fire echoed across the gardens. Within sixty seconds, the gunfire stopped as quickly as it had begun.
"Don Gabriel," Marco reported over the radio. "The shooter fled across the north fence toward the highway. We recovered the weapon he abandoned in the bushes."
"What kind of weapon?" Gabriel asked, keeping his body positioned between the window and Claire.
"A modified Barrett sniper rifle, Boss," Marco said. "The serial numbers match a shipment that was stolen from the Moretti syndicate's warehouse in Brooklyn two weeks ago."
Gabriel narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenching tightly. "Moretti."
He stood up, checking the room once more before turning to Claire. She was trembling violently, holding a sobbing Mia against her chest, her face completely drained of color.
"They tried to kill my daughter..." Claire gasped, her voice breaking. "They knew she had the bear..."
Gabriel reached down, picked up the brown velvet teddy bear from the glass-covered rug, and checked it over. Hidden inside the rear seam of the bear was a small, flat black leather booklet bound with electrical tape.
Gabriel ripped the seam open and pulled the leather booklet free. He flipped through the hand-written pages under the lamp light. Column after column of dates, truck license plates, and cash amounts were cataloged in precise handwriting.
At the bottom of every page was a recurring delivery destination: Moretti Import & Export, Pier 42, Chicago.
"It was Moretti," Gabriel said, his voice filled with dark realization. "The Moretti family killed Marcus because he discovered their illegal shipping pipeline running through Chicago. They've been tracking you ever since."
Claire looked up at him, her eyes wide with hope and fear. "So... Thomas didn't do it?"
"It looks like Moretti was behind all of it," Gabriel said, sliding the black ledger into his vest pocket. "Thomas was just trying to keep the police from investigating our family affairs three years ago."
Gabriel reached out, gently picking up Mia in his broad arms. The little girl wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face against his dark suit jacket.
"I'm taking both of you to the master bunker beneath the main study," Gabriel said firmly. "Nobody enters or leaves this house until I deal with the Morettis."
Ten minutes later, Gabriel sat at his master desk while Thomas stood in front of him, looking exhausted and visibly shaken after the perimeter breach.
"Gabriel," Thomas said, wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "I've deployed twenty additional guards to the front gates. If the Moretti family thinks they can strike at your estate on your birthday, we will wipe them out."
"You did well, Thomas," Gabriel said, looking down at the black ledger sitting on his desk. "I was wrong to doubt your loyalty."
Thomas smiled faintly, bowing his head politely. "I have served your family for thirty years, Don Gabriel. My loyalty is absolute."
Gabriel nodded, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.
As Thomas turned and walked out of the study, Gabriel picked up the modified sniper bullet that Marco had recovered from the armchair and brought upstairs.
Gabriel held the heavy brass casing under his bright desk lamp.
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Engraved near the primer of the bullet was a custom tactical manufacturer mark: a small, stylized iron falcon.
Gabriel’s eyes hardened into ice. The Moretti syndicate used imported Russian ammunition. The stylized iron falcon was the personal trademark of weapons imported exclusively by Thomas Reed's private security firm.
