Chapter 4 - The Drawing on the Table
Before Marco could seat the fresh magazine into his pistol, I closed the distance between us.
I grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm back until his shoulder popped out of its socket with a dull crack. He shrieked, dropping the gun. I caught him by the front of his tactical vest and slammed him face-first into the heavy mahogany library door, pinning him there with one forearm across his throat.
"Where is the rest of your team?" I asked into his ear.
"Go to hell, Kane," he spat, blood dripping from his lip onto the wood paneling. "The snipers at the gate... they have orders to shoot anything that moves. You're trapped in your own house."
"The snipers at the gate," I said, pulling the crumpled drawing out of my coat pocket with my free hand, "were spotted an hour ago by a child with a red crayon."
I flattened the sheet of paper against the door, right beside his bleeding face.
Marco stared at the drawing. The red X over his crude wax figure glinted under the emergency lights.
"What... what is this?" he stammered, his confidence completely shattering.
"That's your execution warrant," I said. "Drawn by Zoe Williams. She saw you at the north gate two days ago, talking to the Moretti scout. She knew you didn't belong."
Down the long driveway outside, the deep, thundering roar of heavy V8 engines echoed through the shattered windows of the gallery. Bright halogen searchlights swept across the glass, bathing the interior of the mansion in blinding white light.
Nikolai had arrived.
Gunfire erupted outside—short, disciplined bursts from my elite perimeter guard as they systematically eliminated Marco's snipers and secured the outer gates. The siege of the Romano estate was over before it had even truly begun.
Heavy boots stomped across the grand entrance porch. The front doors crashed open, and Nikolai stepped into the hall, flanked by six armored guards carrying assault rifles.
"Clear!" Nikolai yelled, his weapon trained on the gallery. Then his eyes found me holding Marco against the library door. "Boss! Are you hit?"
"I'm fine," I said, shoving Marco forward.
Nikolai caught him by the collar, slamming him to his knees on the marble floor while two guards bound his hands with steel zip-ties.
"The perimeter is secure, Mr. Romano," Nikolai reported, stepping up beside me. "We captured four of their scouts at the perimeter fence. The Moretti contact in New York has already been seized by our team at the docks. What do we do with Vance?"
I looked down at Marco. The man who had sat at my father's table, the man who had traded his honor for Moretti paper, was trembling now, looking up at me with pale, desperate eyes.
"Take him to the basement cell," I ordered flatly. "I'll deal with him after the doctor arrives for Elena."
"The doctor is already in the driveway, Boss," Nikolai said. "We brought Dr. Mercer with us."
"Good," I said, turning away from Marco. "Send him up to Room 104 in the staff wing immediately. And Nikolai..."
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"Yes, Boss?"
"Bring a clean blanket and a warm glass of milk down to the shoe-shine room."
