Chapter 7 - THE CHAIR
Dominic Vale had served Matteo for eleven years.
He was forty-six, polished, patient, and famous within the organization for never choosing a side until he knew which side would win.
Apparently he had chosen.
Matteo watched the recording twice.
Then he shut the screen.
“Where is Dominic?”
Arthur checked his team.
“Not answering.”
“Family?”
“Wife and sons left for Connecticut yesterday.”
Prepared.
Norah understood what that meant.
Salvatore had not improvised after her transfer.
The coup had been planned.
Her missing money had simply accelerated it.
Harper sat near the far wall, arms folded around herself.
“What happens now?”
Matteo looked at her.
“You disappear.”
“That didn’t work well for your wife.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Arthur placed a set of keys in front of Harper.
“I have a place outside Providence. Two guards I trust.”
Harper looked at Norah.
“Do you want me gone?”
Norah considered the question.
“Yes.”
Harper nodded.
“But,” Norah continued, “not because I want you punished.”
Harper looked surprised.
“You were willing to participate in destroying my marriage because it made your life easier. You’ll have to live with that.”
“I know.”
“And if you want to become somebody better than the woman who did that, do something useful with the chance you’re getting.”
Harper swallowed.
“I will.”
Matteo said nothing as Arthur escorted her out.
When the door closed, Norah looked at him.
“Don’t romanticize her leaving.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You’re going to be tempted to blame Salvatore for everything.”
Matteo’s face tightened.
“He arranged it.”
“He arranged a meeting.”
“Yes.”
“He did not make you lie to me for three months.”
“No.”
“He did not make you come home smelling like her.”
“No.”
“He did not make you look at your pregnant wife after she read that message and tell her not to start.”
Matteo closed his eyes briefly.
“No.”
“Good.”
Norah picked up her father’s ledger.
“Then we can deal with Salvatore without rewriting what you did.”
Arthur returned ten minutes later.
He carried another problem.
“The captains have been summoned.”
Matteo looked up.
“By whom?”
“You know.”
“When?”
“Eight tonight.”
“Location?”
“The old Rossi Social Club.”
Norah frowned.
“What happens if you don’t go?”
Matteo’s expression became grim.
“Then Salvatore tells everyone my silence is surrender.”
“And if you do?”
“He puts me on trial.”
Norah looked at the photograph, the ledger, the rosary.
“Then go.”
Arthur shook his head.
“It could be a trap.”
“It is a trap,” Norah said. “The question is whether Salvatore realizes we know where the floor gives way.”
At eight that evening, Matteo entered the Rossi Social Club with Arthur beside him.
Norah was not physically present.
That had been the compromise.
She sat inside a secure office three blocks away with two monitors, Thomas Quinn’s ledgers, and copies of every financial record she had taken from Matteo’s accounts.
For once, her distance from the violence was her choice.
The council room held thirteen men.
Salvatore sat at the head of the long table.
Matteo stopped.
“That’s my chair.”
Salvatore folded his hands.
“That is why we are here.”
Matteo remained standing.
Dominic Vale sat two seats to Salvatore’s right.
Alive.
Calm.
Matteo looked at him.
Dominic smiled.
“Boss.”
“Not for much longer, according to you.”
Several men shifted.
Salvatore sighed.
“Matteo, nobody enjoys this.”
“Then you’ve all developed strange ways of celebrating.”
Salvatore slid a folder across the table.
“Your wife transferred nearly thirteen million dollars from emergency reserves.”
“I know.”
“You allowed her to leave with it.”
“Yes.”
“After discovering she intended to abandon you.”
“Yes.”
Murmurs moved around the room.
Salvatore leaned back.
“You vanished to Greece with a mistress while your pregnant wife robbed the organization.”
Matteo looked around the table.
“My wife did not rob the organization.”
Salvatore’s eyebrow lifted.
“The funds were mine.”
“The reserves protect everyone.”
“No.”
Matteo’s voice hardened.
“They protect whoever controls them. That was my father’s mistake. It became mine.”
Salvatore stared.
Matteo continued.
“Norah took money because I gave her every reason to believe she needed protection from me.”
Even Arthur looked at him.
Matteo had never admitted weakness in front of these men.
“I betrayed my wife.”
The room went completely silent.
“That part is mine.”
Salvatore smiled faintly.
“How touching.”
Matteo looked at him.
“What isn’t mine is the security order issued under Arthur’s credentials.”
Dominic stopped smiling.
Norah pressed a key from her remote location.
The monitor at the end of the council table illuminated.
Account records filled the screen.
Payments from Rossi shell companies.
Transfers routed through Elena Imports.
Old withdrawals matching the dates in Thomas Quinn’s ledger.
One captain leaned forward.
“What the hell is that?”
Salvatore’s face did not move.
Matteo answered.
“Forty-one million dollars stolen over nineteen years.”
The room erupted.
Salvatore raised his voice for the first time.
“Fabricated.”
Matteo pressed another key.
The Santino Pier video began playing.
Dominic stood.
Arthur drew his weapon.
So did three other men.
The room fractured into sides.
Salvatore watched himself discussing Norah’s removal.
His expression remained strangely calm.
When the video ended, he looked at Matteo.
“You think this proves what you believe?”
“It proves enough.”
“No.”
Salvatore reached into his coat.
Arthur aimed at him.
“Slowly.”
Salvatore removed a folded piece of paper.
Not a gun.
He placed it on the table.
“This was written eight years ago.”
Matteo stopped.
Norah saw the handwriting through the video feed.
Her father’s.
Salvatore unfolded it.
“Thomas Quinn wrote it the morning before he died.”
Norah leaned toward her screen.
Her pulse thundered.
Salvatore read aloud.
“If Matteo Rossi learns I kept a second ledger, he will have me killed before I can leave Boston.”
Matteo stared at him.
Salvatore continued.
“There’s more.”
He turned the paper around.
Norah could see the final sentence.
Her father’s handwriting.
No question.
No mistake.
If I die, Norah must never trust Matteo Rossi.
Norah stopped breathing.
May you like
And in the council room, Matteo slowly looked toward the camera as though he knew exactly where she was sitting.
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