Chapter 4 - Shadows in the Mansion
Rain poured over the tarmac at Teterboro Airport as a sleek Gulfstream G550 sat idling near the edge of Hangar 4.
Inside a black Lincoln Navigator parked fifty yards away, Arthur, the old butler, was trembling as he pulled a thick envelope of cash out of his leather briefcase. His hands were spotty with age, his knuckles white as he stared at the rain-streaked window.
The rear door of the Lincoln opened, and Julian Moretti slid into the leather seat beside him, smelling of expensive cologne and fear.
“Did you get everything?” Julian demanded, his voice hushed and hurried. “The vials? The receipts? The secondary cell phones?”
“Yes, Mr. Julian,” Arthur stammered, handing over a small metal case. “Everything from the wine cellar has been wiped. The security footage from two p.m. to four p.m. was deleted from the main server. No one can prove I put the toxin into the 1945 Chateau Margaux.”
Julian took the metal case, opening it briefly to inspect the two empty glass ampoules inside. A cold, sinister smile touched his lips.
“Good,” Julian said softly. “You’ve been very loyal, Arthur. Thirty years of service to my family.”
“I only did what you asked because of my son’s gambling debts, sir,” Arthur whimpered. “You promised he would be safe if I helped you.”
“And he is,” Julian replied, reaching into his coat pocket. “He’s currently on a beach in Mexico, waiting for you.”
Julian pulled out a sleek, suppressed pistol, aiming it directly at the old man’s chest.
Arthur’s eyes went wide with horror. “Julian... please! I did everything! I framed the maid! I put the vial in her locker!”
“That’s the problem with old servants, Arthur,” Julian whispered, his finger tightening around the trigger. “You know too much. And my brother is awake. He’s going to tear this city apart looking for answers. I can’t have you talking to him.”
CLICK.
The gun didn't fire.
Julian frowned, pulling the slide back, but before he could rack a fresh round, the driver’s side window of the Lincoln shattered into a thousand pieces!
A heavy, gloved hand reached through the broken glass, grabbed Julian by his silk necktie, and dragged his face violently against the headrest!
The rear doors of the Lincoln were yanked open from the outside.
Aleandro stood in the rain, wearing a full-length black wool coat, his dark hair slicked back by the storm. Behind him stood eight heavily armed men, their weapons trained on the vehicle.
“Did you really think Teterboro was outside my reach, Julian?” Aleandro asked, his voice low and lethal as he dragged his younger brother out of the car and slammed him onto the wet asphalt.
Julian hit the ground hard, coughing and spitting rain. “Aleandro! Wait! Listen to me! He forced me to do it! Arthur forced me!”
Aleandro stepped forward, his heavy boot coming down directly onto Julian’s right hand, crushing his fingers against the pavement until Julian shrieked in agony.
“Save your breath, little brother,” Aleandro growled, bending down to grab Julian by his collar, lifting him until their noses were inches apart. “The child saw you. Emma saw you pass the bottle to Arthur outside the wine cellar.”
Julian’s face went completely dead. “The... the maid’s kid?”
“A four-year-old girl has more honor in her little finger than you have in your entire body,” Aleandro spat, throwing Julian against the side of the car. “Gideon! Lock them both in the basement of the east wing. No food. No water. No doctors until I get my answers.”
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“What about the police, boss?” Gideon asked, stepping up with heavy zip-ties.
“The police belong to the city,” Aleandro replied, turning his back on his brother’s desperate screaming as the guards dragged Julian away. “This is a family matter. And in my family... traitors don't get trials.”
