Chapter 7 - THE HANDCUFFS
The fog rolled thick and heavy off the black water at Pier 44. The rusted cranes loomed like metal skeletons against the starless sky.
Massimo walked out from the shadows of the shipping containers, his hands empty, his coat blowing in the bitter wind. He had left his gun in the truck. He was a dead man walking, and he needed Vincent to believe he knew it.
A pair of headlights clicked on, blinding him.
Four black SUVs were parked in a semi-circle at the edge of the pier. A dozen men stood with assault rifles leveled at Massimo’s chest.
The door of the center vehicle opened. Vincent Maroni stepped out, buttoning his cashmere coat against the cold.
And then, two thugs dragged a woman out of the backseat.
"Renata," Massimo whispered.
She looked older, her dark hair streaked with silver, her face bruised and exhausted. But when she lifted her head and saw Massimo, the fierce, unbroken fire in her eyes was exactly the same as it had been nineteen years ago.
Beside her, a terrified little girl—Elena’s daughter—clung to Renata’s leg, crying softly.
"Massimo," Vincent called out, spreading his arms like a welcoming host. "I admit, I didn't think you’d come alone. Where is Elena? Where is the watch?"
"Elena is gone," Massimo said, his voice echoing across the empty pier. "I took the watch from her. I know everything, Vincent. I know about the Commission. I know about Operation Severance."
Vincent’s smile slipped, just a fraction. "Arthur always kept too many receipts. It doesn't matter. You’re here. Do you have the bank key?"
Massimo reached into his pocket and pulled out the heavy brass key. He held it up in the headlights.
"Let the woman and the child go, Vincent. You have me. You have the key. You win."
Renata shook her head violently. "Massimo, no! Don't give it to him!"
Vincent laughed, a cruel, sharp sound. "It’s very romantic, Massimo. The tragic hero trading his life for his lost love. But I’m afraid I’m a businessman. The woman is the only one who knows the account passwords. She stays until the money clears. Throw the key on the ground."
Massimo didn't move. "Let the child go. She knows nothing."
Vincent sighed, feigning boredom. "Fine. Send the brat over."
One of the thugs shoved the little girl forward. She ran across the wet asphalt, sobbing, until she crashed into Massimo’s legs. He knelt down, shielding her with his body.
"Go to the road," Massimo whispered to the child. "Keep running until you see the lights. Go."
The little girl sprinted off into the fog.
"Now," Vincent demanded, drawing his silver revolver. "The key."
Massimo stood up. He looked at Renata. He poured nineteen years of regret, love, and apology into that single look. She nodded back, a silent understanding passing between them.
Massimo pulled his arm back and hurled the brass key as hard as he could over the edge of the pier, straight into the black, churning water of the Atlantic Ocean.
Vincent screamed in fury. "You stupid bastard!"
"The money is gone, Vincent!" Massimo roared. "You’ll never touch it!"
Vincent raised his gun, aiming directly at Massimo’s head.
Before he could pull the trigger, the piercing shriek of tires echoed across the pier.
Massimo spun around.
Elena’s beat-up Ford pickup truck burst through the chain-link fence at seventy miles an hour, headlights blazing. It slammed violently into the side of Vincent’s SUV, sending men flying and shattering glass across the concrete.
The driver's door kicked open.
Rafael and Teo rolled out, armed with hunting rifles they had taken from Elena’s truck.
"I told you to go to the FBI!" Massimo screamed over the chaos.
"We did!" Rafael shouted back, racking the bolt of his rifle. "We gave them the film! But we weren't going to let you die alone!"
"Kill them all!" Vincent shrieked, firing blindly through the smoke.
Gunfire erupted from all sides. Massimo dove behind a concrete pylon, bullets chewing the stone inches from his face. The boys were pinned down behind the wrecked truck. They were brave, but they were hopelessly outnumbered.
"Renata!" Massimo yelled, searching the chaos.
She was huddled behind the bumper of the second SUV, using the crossfire to inch toward a discarded weapon on the ground.
Suddenly, a loud, metallic click echoed over the gunfire.
Vincent Maroni stepped out from the smoke, bleeding from a cut on his forehead, his revolver pressed directly against Teo’s temple. He had flanked the boys in the confusion.
Rafael froze, dropping his rifle to the ground.
"Enough!" Vincent roared, dragging Teo forward by his hair. "It ends right now."
Massimo stepped out from behind the pylon, raising his hands. "Vincent. Let him go."
"You ruined everything, Massimo," Vincent sneered, his finger tightening on the trigger. "You took my money. So I’m going to take your legacy. Watch your son die."
"No!" Renata screamed, lunging from her hiding spot.
But it wasn't Renata who reached Vincent first.
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From the thick fog rolling off the water, the deafening thwack of helicopter blades shattered the night. Brilliant white spotlights cut through the darkness, blinding Vincent’s men.
"FBI! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" a voice boomed through a megaphone.
