Chapter 6 - The Economy of the Docks
The warehouse at Pier 14 was cold, the morning sun breaking through the dirty skylights in long, dusty streaks of yellow that did nothing to warm the concrete floor.
Victoria Costello sat in a wooden chair in the center of the floor, her silk robe torn and stained with grease, her perfect hair falling in wild, damp tangles over her pale face. Behind her stood Dr. Harrison Reed, his hands zip-tied to an iron support pillar, his breath coming in short, spastic gasps as he stared at the two large, black-gloved enforcers who were currently opening an empty shipping container near the edge of the water.
Dominic walked into the warehouse slowly, his heavy leather boots making a distinct, rhythmic thud against the concrete. Fiona walked three paces behind him, her green nursing cottons covered by a dark wool coat that Rocco had lent her, her eyes fixed on the man clutched against the pillar.
“Dominic! Dominic, please!” Victoria screamed, her voice cracking as she tried to twist out of the chair. “It was Harrison! He told me the boy wouldn't survive the winter anyway—he said it was an act of mercy—he said we could have our own children after the estate was settled—”
Dominic didn't stop. He walked past her as if she were a piece of discarded timber, his eyes fixed entirely on Dr. Reed. He reached out, his large hand catching the lapel of Reed’s expensive tailored suit jacket, dragging him forward until the zip-ties cut deep into the doctor’s wrists.
“The needles came from Moretti, Harrison,” Dominic said, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, though it carried through the iron rafters like a church bell. “How much did he pay you to use my son as a clinical trial for his bootleg paralytics?”
“Fifty grand a month,” Reed whimpered, his face turning an ugly shade of gray as his knees buckled under Dominic’s weight. “And the pharmaceutical rights to the derivative… Dominic, please, I’ve been your family physician for ten years! I kept your father alive when the stroke hit him in 2022!”
“My father died because he trusted a man who looked at a ledger instead of a pulse, Harrison,” Dominic said softly. He released the lapel and turned back to Rocco, who was standing near the door with a silver pen in his hand. “Rocco. Call the district attorney’s office. Tell them we have the missing oncology files from Northwestern. And tell them Dr. Reed is ready to sign a full confession regarding the Cicero distribution network.”
Victoria blinked, her face filled with a frantic, beautiful confusion through her tears. “You’re… you’re turning him over to the police? Dominic, you don't use the courts. You’re a Costello.”
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Dominic turned his head, his icy blue eyes locking onto her face with a final, lethal certainty that stopped her breath. “I use the courts when the crime is too dirty for my docks, Victoria. If I put you in the lake, your father’s family will start a war that lasts five years and costs twenty million dollars in logistics fees. But if I put you in a federal penitentiary for the attempted murder of a minor, your family name is wiped off the board by Friday morning.”
He reached down, took Fiona’s hand in his—his palm large, warm, and completely steady—and pulled her toward the exit. “Let’s go back to the hospital, Fiona. The boy is going to want his breakfast.”
