Chapter 7 - THE DEAD MAN’S REVENGE
Gabriel Vescari had died in 1996.
That was the official truth.
Lorenzo had seen photographs of the body.
His uncle had attended the burial.
Newspapers reported it.
Federal files confirmed it.
But by late afternoon, Nico had uncovered something impossible.
Dr. Carlo Benedetti did not exist before 1997.
No childhood records.
No university history that survived independent verification.
No birth certificate matching the one used for his medical license.
Someone had built him.
Layer by layer.
A completely new human being.
Lorenzo stared at the old photograph Nico placed on the table.
Gabriel Vescari at twenty-eight.
Thinner.
Dark mustache.
Broken nose.
Then a recent photograph of Benedetti.
Remove thirty years.
Change the hair.
Fix the nose.
Same eyes.
“Salvatore knew?”
“Apparently.”
“Why keep him alive?”
Nico looked at the financial records.
“Maybe they made a deal.”
Lorenzo understood.
Gabriel had ordered Lorenzo’s father killed.
Salvatore then took control of the fragmented DeLuca organization before eventually handing official leadership to Lorenzo.
Perhaps Salvatore had never wanted Gabriel dead.
Perhaps both men benefited from the old boss disappearing.
Wars created vacancies.
Vacancies created kings.
Lorenzo’s phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown number.
She has six hours.
Attached was a photograph of Isabella.
She held that morning’s newspaper.
Alive.
Behind her stood a circular window overlooking water.
Nico enlarged the photograph.
“That isn’t a building.”
“What?”
“Look at the rivets.”
Lorenzo did.
Metal wall.
Circular marine glass.
“A ship.”
They began checking private vessels connected to shell companies.
Hundreds.
Then Sophia called.
“Lorenzo.”
He heard Emma crying behind her.
“What happened?”
“Emma remembers something.”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
The child had already been through enough.
“What?”
“She says the scary doctor smelled like oranges.”
Nico frowned.
Lorenzo almost dismissed it.
Then remembered something.
Benedetti always carried Sicilian orange lozenges.
Emma came on the phone.
“Mr. Lorenzo?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“The doctor told Uncle Matt they were going to the red boat.”
Lorenzo stood.
“What red boat?”
“He said Red Queen.”
Nico was already searching.
Three minutes later they found it.
The Red Queen.
A decommissioned casino vessel moored unofficially near an industrial dock in Staten Island.
Registered to a Panama corporation.
The corporation traced back to a law firm.
That firm had handled Benedetti’s estate planning.
Lorenzo looked at Nico.
“Get everyone.”
Night fell before the convoy reached Staten Island.
Lorenzo did not tell Sophia where they were going.
He kissed Lucia goodbye.
Isabella’s recorded voice remained in his head.
Whatever they tell you about him, do not believe—
He wondered what Gabriel had been telling her.
Perhaps that Lorenzo stopped looking.
Perhaps that he remarried.
Perhaps that Lucia died.
He could imagine a hundred cruelties.
The ship appeared through fog beside a rusted dock.
Most lights were off.
Too quiet.
Nico surveyed the upper decks.
“Thermal shows twelve people.”
“Isabella?”
“Can’t distinguish.”
They entered from the stern.
No dramatic firefight.
No shouting.
Lorenzo had learned long ago that the most dangerous operations happened quietly.
Two guards went down before raising alarms.
A third surrendered.
Then sirens began inside the ship.
“They know.”
Lorenzo ran.
Second deck.
Empty gambling hall.
Third deck.
Locked cabins.
Then a gunshot sounded above.
Lorenzo took the stairs two at a time.
At the end of a narrow corridor stood Matteo.
Gun in hand.
Blood covered his shirt.
Lorenzo aimed immediately.
Matteo raised both hands.
“Don’t shoot.”
“You kidnapped Emma.”
“To save her.”
“You helped take Isabella.”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo’s finger tightened.
Matteo did not move.
“I deserve whatever you do after tonight.”
“Where is she?”
“Cabin seven.”
Lorenzo started forward.
Matteo blocked him.
“Wait.”
“Move.”
“It’s wired.”
Lorenzo stared at him.
“Explosives?”
“Pressure trigger.”
“How do you know?”
“I put them there.”
Rage flashed through Lorenzo.
“On whose orders?”
“Gabriel.”
“You could have refused.”
“He had my nieces.”
“Salvatore told me.”
Matteo’s face changed.
“Salvatore is alive?”
“No.”
Matteo lowered his eyes.
For one second, grief appeared.
Then disappeared.
“Gabriel is going to sink the vessel.”
“How long?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes.”
“Get Isabella out.”
Matteo shook his head.
“I can disable the trigger from the engine-control room.”
“Do it.”
“If I leave, Gabriel will know.”
“Where is Gabriel?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve worked for him eight months.”
“Try eight years.”
Lorenzo stared at him.
Matteo laughed bitterly.
“Now you understand why I never told you about my sister.”
“You sold me for eight years.”
“I kept you alive for eight years.”
“Don’t ask me to thank you.”
“I’m not.”
Matteo looked down the corridor.
“I’m asking you to save Isabella.”
Then footsteps approached.
Three armed men appeared.
Gunfire exploded.
Lorenzo and Matteo moved instinctively together, the way they had a hundred times before.
Back-to-back.
Covering angles.
Old muscle memory surviving new betrayal.
The attackers fell.
Matteo was hit in the shoulder.
He collapsed against the wall.
Lorenzo grabbed him.
“Engine room.”
Matteo shook his head.
“Cabin seven first.”
They reached the door.
Through a small window Lorenzo saw her.
Isabella.
Alive.
Tied to a chair.
Her eyes were closed.
“Bella.”
Her eyes opened.
She saw him.
For several seconds she did not react.
Perhaps she believed he was another hallucination.
Then she stood as far as the ropes allowed.
“Lorenzo?”
He pressed his palm to the glass.
She stumbled toward him.
“Oh my God.”
“I’m here.”
“Lucia.”
“She’s alive.”
Isabella screamed.
Not in fear.
The sound came from somewhere deeper.
“Lucia is alive?”
“She’s safe.”
Isabella collapsed against the chair, sobbing.
Lorenzo fought the handle.
Matteo grabbed him.
“Don’t.”
“I’m getting her out.”
“You’ll detonate it.”
“Then disable it.”
Matteo nodded.
Before he left, Isabella suddenly looked past Lorenzo.
She saw him.
Her expression changed.
“Matteo.”
He stopped.
“You.”
Matteo could not meet her eyes.
“You did this.”
“Yes.”
“You took my baby.”
“I kept her alive.”
“You took her from me!”
Matteo flinched.
“I know.”
“You let me believe she burned.”
“I know.”
Isabella pulled against the ropes.
“I hate you.”
Matteo nodded.
“I know that too.”
Then he ran toward the engine room.
Lorenzo remained beside the window.
“Bella, listen to me. I’m getting you out.”
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“You really thought I wouldn’t?”
“No.”
She began crying again.
“I knew you would.”
A speaker crackled overhead.
A man’s voice filled the corridor.
Gabriel.
“Touching.”
Lorenzo looked upward.
“Come out.”
“Oh, Lorenzo. I waited thirty years for you to sound exactly like your father.”
Isabella’s face changed.
“Don’t listen to him.”
Gabriel continued.
“Your father begged too.”
Lorenzo froze.
“He didn’t die in an ambush.”
The speaker hissed.
“I shot him myself.”
Then every emergency light on the ship turned red.
A countdown appeared on a digital panel.
05:00.
Five minutes.
Matteo’s voice shouted through Lorenzo’s earpiece.
“Lorenzo!”
“What?”
“The engine-room controls are fake.”
The countdown changed.
04:51.
04:50.
04:49.
Matteo breathed hard.
May you like
“This entire ship is the bomb.”
And Isabella was still locked inside it.
