Chapter 8: The Last Thing Dante Expected
Fausto was a small man with careful eyes and the particular stillness of someone who had spent years being useful to dangerous people without ever becoming dangerous himself.
He sat in a chair in a room near the port and looked at Vincent Torino and did not pretend he wasn't afraid.
"The notebook," Vincent said.
Fausto looked at his hands.
"How long have you been watching my house?"
"Four months."
"On whose instructions?"
"Dante Moretti."
"And what was the plan?
Specifically."
Fausto was quiet for a moment.
Then: "The woman.
Carmen.
Dante wanted her brought in for a conversation.
Not harmed.
Just — brought in.
Somewhere private.
And then someone would call you and explain that the conversation could end well or badly, depending on whether you reconsidered the docks."
The word *conversation* sat in the air between them.
"And the child?" Vincent asked.
Fausto's jaw tightened.
"Dante didn't mention the child directly.
But the school was in the notebook because—" He stopped.
"Because a mother who knows someone has her child's school address doesn't need to be physically touched," Vincent said.
"She just needs to know that you know."
Fausto said nothing.
"When was this supposed to happen?"
"This weekend."
Three days.
"Is Dante in the city?"
"He never left."
Vincent stood.
"You're going to do something for me," he said.
"You're going to contact Dante and tell him the plan is ready.
That Carmen can be moved Saturday morning.
That everything is in place."
Fausto stared at him.
"You want me to set him up."
"I want you to tell him the truth as he understands it.
What happens after that is my concern."
"And what happens to me?"
"You leave the city.
Tonight.
You don't contact Dante again.
You don't contact anyone connected to the Morettis." Vincent looked at him steadily.
"If you do this and you leave and you stay gone, nothing follows you."
"And if I don't?"
Vincent didn't answer that.
He didn't need to.
Fausto made the call.
Saturday morning arrived cold and clear.
Dante Moretti came himself, which Vincent had expected.
Dante was the kind of man who wanted to be present for the moments he had engineered.
He arrived at the address Fausto had given him — a quiet street, a building that looked residential — with two men and the comfortable expression of someone who believes they have already won.
He found Vincent waiting inside.
And Marco.
And two men from the city's financial crimes authority, who had been given, over the preceding forty-eight hours, a detailed account of the Moretti family's operations at the docks, including the names of three port officials who had been receiving payments for four years, documented in records that Luca had spent the previous week quietly assembling.
Dante stopped in the doorway.
His comfortable expression did not survive the next three seconds.
"You were going to use a woman and a child," Vincent said.
"I want you to know that I know that.
Before anything else happens here, I want you to know that I know exactly what you were planning."
Dante's eyes moved to the two officials.
Then back to Vincent.
"This isn't—" he started.
"The records are already filed," Vincent said.
"The port officials have been contacted separately.
Two of them have already agreed to cooperate." He paused.
"This is finished, Dante.
The docks were never yours.
They will not become yours.
And the next time you think about finding reasons to stay interested in my city, remember this room."
Dante's jaw worked.
"You'll regret this," he said.
"I've heard that before." Vincent stepped aside.
"The gentlemen behind me have some questions for you."
Dante looked at him for one long moment — the look of a man recalculating, finding no path forward, and refusing to show that he knows it.
"My lawyers—"
"Are already aware," one of the officials said pleasantly.
"We called them this morning."
The two men with Dante took a step back.
Not toward him.
Away.
Dante noticed.
"Get your hands—" he started, as the officials moved forward.
"You had a notebook," Vincent said quietly, so only Dante could hear.
"With a child's school written in it."
Dante went still.
"I want you to think about that," Vincent said, "for however long comes next."
He walked out.
The morning air was cold and sharp and clean.
Marco fell into step beside him.
"It's done?" Marco asked.
"The financial case is solid.
He'll be occupied for a long time." Vincent turned up his collar.
"Make sure the port officials understand that cooperation means full cooperation.
No half measures."
"Understood." Marco paused.
"And the two staff members Fausto named?"
"The one who called in sick — have they been found?"
"Last night.
They're prepared to make a statement about what Rosario's contact asked them to do.
In exchange for no further action."
"Accept it." Vincent kept walking.
"I want this clean.
No loose ends that could circle back to Carmen or Isabella."
Marco nodded.
They reached the car.
"Boss," Marco said.
Vincent looked at him.
"For what it's worth." Marco opened the door.
"I've worked for you for twelve years.
I've never seen you move this fast for anything that wasn't business."
Vincent got in the car.
"It was business," he said.
May you like
"Just a different kind."
Marco closed the door.
