Chapter 5 - The First Move
The rain had stopped, leaving the streets of Brooklyn slick and reflective under the yellow glare of sodium streetlights.
At midnight, inside a high-end private cigar club in Red Hook, Captain Paulie Vane sat at a leather booth, pouring himself a double glass of twenty-year-old scotch. Two heavily armed bodyguards stood near the polished mahogany door, keeping watch over the empty establishment.
"She wants the union vote finalized by Friday, Paulie," one of the guards said, checking his phone. "Bianca says the captains are getting restless."
"Bianca can wait," Paulie spat, lighting a thick Cuban cigar. "She thinks because she wears the Russo name she’s the boss now. Once the grief wears off, she’ll do exactly what I tell her to do, or she’ll end up missing just like her golden-boy brother."
Suddenly, the lights inside the cigar club flickered once, twice, and died completely.
The room plunged into pitch darkness.
"What the hell?" Paulie barked, reaching under his leather jacket for his piece. "Check the breaker!"
Before the guard could step toward the hallway, a soft, electronic hum echoed from the smart-TV mounted above the bar.
The screen lit up, illuminating the dark room with a harsh white glow.
A voice filled the empty club—not Matteo’s voice, but Paulie’s own voice, recorded three days prior inside his private penthouse:
"...Once Matteo is buried, we liquidate the real estate holdings in Manhattan. Bianca takes twenty percent as a figurehead, and we run the heroin routes straight through Pier 42. If any of the old-timers object, put them in the river..."
Paulie froze, his cigar dropping from his mouth onto the polished floorboards. "Who’s playing that? WHO IS THAT?"
The audio stopped. The TV screen shifted to a document display: a crystal-clear copy of Paulie’s secret Swiss bank ledger, listing thirty-two million dollars stolen directly from the Russo family pension fund.
A shadow stepped out from the darkness near the back corridor.
Matteo Russo walked into the soft glow of the TV screen. He wore a dark wool coat over his bandage-bound chest, his face pale, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.
The two bodyguards instantly drew their weapons, but before they could raise them, red laser dots appeared simultaneously on both of their chests.
Through the broken glass windows of the upper balcony, two silenced rifles clicked.
"I wouldn't," Matteo said softly. "My team outside has had you targeted since you walked into the club, Paulie."
Paulie’s glass shattered on the floor as his hands began to shake violently. He stared at Matteo as if looking at a ghost returned from the grave. "Matteo... Jesus... we thought... Bianca said you were dead..."
"Bianca is a fool," Matteo said, taking a slow step toward the booth. "And you are a traitor."
"Matteo, listen to me!" Paulie pleaded, falling back against the leather cushions, his tough-guy persona vanishing into pathetic desperation. "It was her idea! She brought the captains together! She promised us the old routes! I was just protecting my crew!"
"You stole from the family pension, Paulie," Matteo said coldly. "You ordered the hit on my vehicle. And you helped murder an innocent maintenance man named Thomas Bennett three years ago."
Paulie’s eyes widened in confusion. "Thomas? The... the housekeeper's husband? I didn't know anything about him! That was all Bianca! She found out he was tapping her phone lines and she had her personal driver hit his car on the highway!"
In the dark security closet near the back of the club, listening through a wireless headset, I squeezed my eyes shut as tears burned down my cheeks.
Paulie had just confirmed it. It wasn't an electrical accident. Bianca’s driver had forced Thomas off the road.
"Thank you, Paulie," Matteo’s voice echoed through my headset. "That was the only confirmation I needed."
"Matteo, please!" Paulie wept. "Give me a chance! I’ll give you Bianca! I’ll set her up!"
May you like
Matteo looked down at the sniveling captain with absolute disdain. "You won't set anyone up, Paulie. Because by five o'clock tomorrow morning, every captain in New York will receive a copy of that bank ledger showing you stole their pensions. Let's see how loyal they are to you by sunrise."
Matteo turned his back and walked into the shadows. Two seconds later, the front doors were kicked open by three of Matteo’s remaining loyalists, who disarmed the guards and dragged Paulie Vane away into the night.
