Chapter 3 - The Ghost of the Syndicate
By three o'clock in the morning, the rain over the harbor had turned into a thick, choking fog.
The Boss stood in the glass-walled study of his private compound atop St. Jude’s Hill. The baby, a girl named Maya, was finally sleeping in a dark mahogany crib in the corner of the room, guarded by Brutus, who lay stretched out on the Persian rug like a silent iron beast.
Frank "The Ledger" Vance sat at the desk, his fingers flying across three laptop keyboards, clearing the remaining digital footprints of the night’s purge.
—The city council is in full panic mode, Boss, Frank reported, setting down a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses. —K19’s arrest by the Triad enforcers has sent shockwaves through the harbor authority. The corrupt judges who took his bribes are scrubbing their bank accounts, trying to pretend they never knew his name.
—Let them sweat, the Boss said, gazing out the window at the misty city lights below. —When a house is infested, you don't just kill the rats you see. You let the poison work its way through the walls.
Marco entered the room quietly, holding a silver tray with a pot of black coffee and two cups. He set it down on the side table, his movements respectful, almost reverent.
—The guards at the gate have been replaced with the old guard, Boss, Marco said softly. —Every man on the perimeter has taken the renewed oath tonight. There isn't a soldier in this city who doesn't know the truth now.
—Good, the Boss said. He picked up a cup of coffee, taking a slow sip. —How is your brother's family, Marco?
Marco paused, a lump rising in his throat. —They are grieving, Boss. But... I told his widow that the man responsible was punished, and that the family is taking care of her children's education fund. She prayed for you tonight.
The Boss turned from the window, looking at the young lieutenant. —Your brother died because I was slow to see the rot in my own house. That burden belongs to me, Marco. As long as I draw breath, his children will never want for anything.
Before Marco could answer, a loud alarm chimed from Frank's laptop console. Red emergency lights began to pulse softly along the study ceiling.
Frank sat up straight, his brow furrowing. —Boss... we have a breach on the lower perimeter. But it's not an assault team.
—What is it? Marco snapped, pulling his sidearm.
—It's a single vehicle, Frank said, pulling up the thermal camera feed. —A black armored sedan. It drove straight through the outer gate barriers and stopped in the lower courtyard. The driver just turned off the engine and put his hands on the steering wheel.
The Boss walked over to the monitor. The thermal imaging showed a lone figure sitting in the driver's seat of an unbadged diplomatic car. Mounted on the front hood was a small, silver pennant depicting a crown wrapped in thorns.
The Boss’s eyes narrowed into dark slits.
—The High Council of Elders, the Boss murmured.
May you like
—The Elders? Frank gasped, rising from his chair. —They haven't left their sanctuary in Geneva in fifteen years! Why would an Elder come here in person?
—Because my sister was married to the son of Elder Nicholas, the Boss explained quietly, leaning down to lightly stroke Brutus’s heavy head. —They didn't come for the harbor, Frank. They came for the baby.
