Chapter 6 - The Federal Gambit
At 3:30 AM, the federal building on JFK Street in downtown Boston was dark except for the eighth floor, where the Organized Crime Strike Force maintained its regional command suite.
Special Agent-in-Charge Marcus Vance sat behind a metal desk littered with empty paper coffee cups, half-eaten donuts, and three open case files marked MORETTI SYNDICATE - TARGET PROFILE.
The heavy double doors of the command room opened.
Two uniformed federal marshals stepped in, followed by me.
Vance stood up so fast his desk chair rolled three feet back into a metal filing cabinet. His hand dropped instinctively to his sidearm.
"Dominic Moretti," Vance breathed, his eyes darting between me and the two marshals. "What kind of circus trick is this? Did your grandfather send you to negotiate another immunity deal for the docks?"
I walked to the center of the room, unzipped my wet overcoat, and laid the leather-bound journal and the Swiss USB drive directly on top of his primary indictment folder.
Beside it, I placed the four sealed birth certificates.
"I’m not here to negotiate for Vincenzo Moretti, Agent Vance," I said, my voice cutting through the hum of the fluorescent lights. "I'm here to deliver him."
Vance didn't touch the items. He looked at me with deep, suspicious skepticism. "You’re his heir. You’re set to take over the entire maritime and commercial portfolio by the end of the year."
"The portfolio is built on blood, perjury, and the kidnapping of my children," I said.
Vance frowned, leaning over the desk to pick up the birth certificates. As his eyes scanned the New Hampshire seals and the typed names of the four boys, his jaw slackened slightly.
"Quadruplets?" Vance murmured, looking up at me. "Six years ago?"
"Vincenzo’s personal attorney, Raymond Shaw, executed the fraudulent sealing orders using a forged court decree signed by a county judge on his payroll," I explained, pulling a chair out and sitting down. "On that USB drive, you will find thirty-two gigabytes of unencrypted offshore transaction logs. The shell companies in Panama, the kickbacks to the port authority commissioners, the dummy shipping manifests used to move contraband through the Barrett terminals, and the private Swiss account numbers holding two hundred and forty million dollars of laundered capital."
Vance reached for his reading glasses, inserted the USB drive into his secure workstation, and began clicking through the directories.
As the columns of numbers, wire routing receipts, and encrypted email archives populated his dual screens, the color drained from the agent’s face.
"My God," Vance whispered. "This... this isn't just Vincenzo. This is half the state legislature. This is the maritime shipping board. This is the whole damn machine."
"It's everyone," I confirmed.
"What do you want, Moretti?" Vance asked, looking at me over his glasses. "Full federal immunity? Witness protection in Montana? A new identity?"
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the desk.
"I don't want witness protection," I said, each word distinct and unyielding. "I want full, unconditional federal protective custody for Elena Vale and our four sons until this trial concludes. I want their legal birth certificates restored to the state public registry within twelve hours. And I want to be the one who serves the arrest warrant on Vincenzo Moretti."
May you like
Vance stared at me for five long seconds. Then a slow, dangerous grin touched his lips.
"The United States Attorney is going to love you, Dominic," Vance said, picking up his secure red telephone. "Get the tactical teams prepped. We're going to Chestnut Hill."
