Chapter 6 - The Setup in Suite 704
The hallway on the seventh floor of the Blackwood Hotel was silent, carpeted in deep burgundy runner rugs that muffled every footstep.
Teddy Vain hurried down the hall, his hand inside his tuxedo jacket, resting against the cold steel of a suppressed pistol.
He reached Suite 704 and knocked twice sharply.
The door clicked open. Ezra Callahan, Rafe’s aged and loyal lieutenant, stood inside wearing his glasses, a laptop glowing brightly on the glass desk behind him.
“Teddy?” Ezra said, pretending to be startled. “What are you doing up here? Rafe said—”
Before Ezra could finish, Teddy barged into the room, drawing his weapon and slamming the older man against the wall.
“Shut up, old man,” Teddy snarled, pressing the gun under Ezra’s chin. “Where’s the micro-ledger?”
Ezra gasped for air, pointing a trembling finger toward the laptop screen, where a digital file was transferring line by line.
“It’s... it’s on the drive,” Ezra stammered. “Rafe told me to process the Swiss accounts before midnight!”
Teddy shoved Ezra to the floor, stepping up to the desk. On the screen was the complete, unredacted secondary ledger of the Santoro syndicate—documenting ten years of systematic embezzlement, extortion, and framing carried out by Teddy Vain and Bruno Santoro.
“Jackpot,” Teddy whispered, pulling out a USB drive from his pocket and plugging it in to copy the files. “With this, Bruno and I control every dollar in Boston.”
“You won't get far with it, Teddy,” Ezra rasped from the floor, leaning against the couch. “Rafe knows.”
Teddy turned, a vicious grin on his face as he aimed the gun at Ezra’s head. “Rafe is down in the ballroom dancing with a maid. By the time he realizes what happened, Bruno and I will be on a private jet to South America.”
Teddy pulled the trigger.
Click.
The gun didn't fire. He pulled it again. Click.
Teddy stared at the weapon in shock, pulling back the slide only to find the firing pin had been removed.
“Looking for this?”
Rafe Santoro stepped out from the connecting bedroom doorway, tossing a tiny metal firing pin onto the glass coffee table.
Behind Rafe, four armed Federal Marshals stepped into the room, their weapons raised and trained directly on Teddy’s chest.
“Teddy Vain,” a senior federal agent announced loudly. “Put your hands on your head! You are under arrest for grand larceny, extortion, conspiracy to commit murder, and interstate fraud!”
Teddy’s face drained of all color as the heavy steel handcuffs clicked around his wrists.
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Rafe walked over to the desk, casually unplugging the USB drive and slipping it into his pocket. He looked down at Teddy with icy contempt.
“My father used to say that a greedy man always chokes on his own bait,” Rafe said quietly. “Enjoy state prison, Teddy.”
