Chapter 8 - The Doors of Justice
The grand marble lobby of the Thurgood Marshall United States Courthouse was bathed in bright, sterile fluorescent light.
Federal marshals and armed security guards stood in tight formations near the metal detectors, their weapons drawn as the sound of distant gunfire echoed from the FDR Drive.
At the center of the lobby, surrounded by four dark-suited federal agents, stood Victor Moretti.
He was wearing a tailored gray suit, holding a leather folder containing his signed immunity agreement. Beside him stood Assistant United States Attorney Richard Miller, a tall, arrogant man with silver hair and a smug smile.
"What was that shooting outside?" Miller asked nervously, checking his watch.
"Just Camden Rourke’s desperate remnants," Victor sneered, adjusting his gold cufflinks. "My boys are taking care of them. Now give me the pen, Miller. Let's finish this deal."
"Stop right there!"
A deep, thunderous voice echoed through the massive marble hall.
Every federal agent in the lobby spun around, raising their sidearms toward the grand glass entrance doors.
The heavy brass doors swung open.
Camden Rourke stepped into the lobby.
He was drenched in rain. Blood from a minor grazing wound on his temple dripped down his jawline, staining his white shirt collar red. His dark eyes were fixed on Victor Moretti with the terrifying intensity of an executioner.
Behind him walked Jackson Hale, along with twenty NYPD officers who had surrounded the building, their weapons pointed at Moretti's federal guard detail.
And beside Camden walked Hannah Vance, holding four-year-old Eli in her arms.
"Down on your knees! All of you!" the lead Federal Marshal yelled, stepping between Camden and the prosecutor.
"Put your weapons down, Marshals!" the NYPD Captain shouted, advancing from behind Camden. "We have an active federal warrant for Victor Moretti for kidnapping, homicide, and conspiracy!"
AUSA Miller stepped forward, his face red with anger. "What is the meaning of this?! Mr. Moretti is under federal witness protection! He is signing an immunity agreement!"
"That agreement is void, Mr. Miller," Hannah's voice rang out, strong, clear, and resonant against the marble high ceilings.
Miller blinked, looking at the pale, bruised nurse standing beside Camden. "Who are you?"
"My name is Hannah Vance," she said, stepping forward until she stood ten feet from Victor Moretti. "I am a pediatric nurse from Saint Mary's Hospital. Three weeks ago, Victor Moretti had me abducted from my workplace."
Victor’s face went dead pale. His slick confidence shattered like thin glass. "She's lying! She's one of Rourke's operatives!"
"I am not an operative!" Hannah shouted, her hazel eyes blazing with pure, moral fury. "I am the woman who kept this four-year-old child alive in a frozen basement while your men drank whiskey outside the door! I am the witness who watched Frankie Moretti take orders directly from your phone!"
Eli looked at Victor, then buried his small face into Hannah's neck. "That's the bad man, Hannah. That's the man who said Uncle Cam was dead."
The entire lobby went completely silent.
The Federal Marshals looked at each other, then slowly lowered their weapons from Camden, pointing them directly at Victor Moretti instead.
"AUSA Miller," Camden said, taking three slow, heavy steps toward the prosecutor. He pulled a small, blood-stained digital recorder from his coat pocket and dropped it onto the clerk's desk. "This is the audio file recovered from Frankie Moretti’s phone an hour ago. It contains Victor ordering the execution of my brother, Leo, and the abduction of my nephew."
Miller looked at the recorder, then looked at Victor’s pale, trembling face.
"Is this true, Victor?" Miller whispered, horror dawning in his eyes.
"He's lying!" Victor screamed, backing away toward the elevators. "It's a setup! Shoot him! Shoot Camden!"
Before Victor could take three steps, two Federal Marshals grabbed him by his arms, slamming him face-first against the cold marble floor.
CLICK-CLACK.
The heavy steel handcuffs locked around Victor Moretti’s wrists.
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Camden stood over the fallen mob boss, looking down at him with cold, absolute victory.
"My brother sends his regards, Victor," Camden said softly.
