Chapter 6 - THE GHOST IN THE MACHINE
Gilbert’s smile was the terrifying, complacent smirk of a middle-management coward who suddenly held all the cards.
Evelyn stared at him, her mind short-circuiting. Gilbert? The man who harassed her about table settings and scolded her for taking an extra five minutes on her break?
"Gilbert?" she breathed, stepping protectively in front of Mia.
"Surprise, Evie," Gilbert sneered, keeping the gun trained squarely on Lorenzo’s chest. "Celeste pays a lot better than the hospitality union. She knew Lorenzo had a blind drop somewhere in the city. She just didn't know where. But when she saw you slip him that napkin... she realized you weren't just a waitress. You were a player."
"So you followed us," Lorenzo said, his voice terrifyingly calm. He didn't raise his hands. He just stood there, analyzing the geometry of the room, looking for the angle to kill.
"Tracked you from the restaurant," Gilbert said, tapping a small monitor on his wrist. "I tipped off the hit squad at the warehouse. And then I just waited for you to come running to the one place you thought was safe."
"You're an idiot, Gilbert," Evelyn said, her voice shaking but her tone venomous. "Celeste doesn't leave loose ends. The moment you hand us over, she's going to put a bullet in your head to keep the vault a secret."
Gilbert’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Evelyn saw it. The same tell her father had. The twitch of uncertainty.
"Drop the gun, Gilbert," Lorenzo said softly. "Walk away. You have a chance right now to disappear."
"Shut up!" Gilbert snapped, his hand trembling slightly. "I’m calling the cleaners. They’re waiting up top."
He reached for his phone with his free hand.
It was the opening Evelyn needed. Growing up with a grifter, she had learned how to exploit a distraction.
"Gilbert, wait!" Evelyn screamed, throwing her hand into her apron pocket. She pulled out the heavy Roman denarius Dante had tossed her and hurled it as hard as she could directly at Gilbert's face.
The heavy gold coin struck him squarely in the bridge of his nose with a sickening crunch.
Gilbert shrieked, staggering backward, his gun firing wildly into the ceiling.
Lorenzo moved like lightning. He crossed the room in two strides, grabbed Gilbert by the throat, and slammed him viciously against the concrete wall. The silenced pistol clattered to the floor.
"Don't kill him!" Evelyn yelled, covering Mia's eyes.
Lorenzo’s hand was tight around Gilbert’s windpipe, his eyes dark with murder. But at Evelyn’s shout, he paused. He looked back at her, then back to the sputtering, bleeding floor manager.
Lorenzo dropped him in a heap. "You're lucky the lady has a conscience. Give me your phone."
Gilbert, wheezing and clutching his broken nose, frantically handed over his cell phone.
Lorenzo tossed it to Evelyn. "Check his messages. See where Celeste is right now."
Evelyn scrolled through the texts. Her blood ran cold. "She’s at the Obsidian. She’s hosting a summit. The heads of the Five Families. She’s announcing that you're dead and that she's taking over the syndicate."
"Perfect," Lorenzo said, turning to the shelves of cash. He didn't grab the money. Instead, he pulled a small, black leather ledger from a hidden compartment behind the stacks of bills. "My father kept records. Celeste thinks she’s rallying the families, but this book proves her father was the one ratting them out to the feds twenty years ago."
"We expose her," Evelyn realized.
"We don't just expose her," Lorenzo said, his eyes locking onto Evelyn’s. "We destroy her."
He grabbed a duffel bag, stuffing it with cash and the ledger. He turned to leave, but stopped, looking down at Gilbert groaning on the floor.
Lorenzo kicked Gilbert hard in the ribs, rendering him unconscious. "Let's go."
They climbed the maintenance stairs leading out of the vault, emerging into a deserted subway maintenance tunnel. It was 3:00 AM. The city above was silent, but the war was just beginning.
"We need a distraction," Lorenzo said as they walked. "If we walk into the Obsidian, her guards will gun us down before we reach the ballroom."
"I know the Obsidian," Evelyn said, her mind racing. "I know the blind spots. I know the service corridors. I can get you into the lighting booth above the main ballroom. But we need someone to draw their attention at the front door."
Lorenzo stopped. He pulled out his own burner phone. "I have one person left I can trust. But it's a suicide mission."
Before he could dial, a shadow detached itself from the gloom ahead.
Lorenzo raised his gun instantly.
"Easy, Boss," a raspy voice coughed.
Dante stepped into the dim light. He looked like a walking corpse. He was heavily bandaged, pale, and sweating, but he was holding a suppressed submachine gun.
"Dante? You survived the warehouse?" Lorenzo asked, lowering his weapon.
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"I slipped out the back when Marcus started shooting," Dante wheezed, leaning against the damp brick wall. "I'm a dead man walking anyway. The bullet nicked an artery. I got maybe an hour before I bleed out internally."
He looked at Lorenzo, a fierce loyalty burning in his fading eyes. "Tell me where you need a distraction, Boss. I’ve got enough juice left for one last ride."
