Chapter 31 #2
“Considering the number of hits attempted against my businesses and my own family, Mauro, you’re the last person who should have anything to say against my fitness for leadership.
If anything, you’re the most biased motherfucker in this room.
Where are my wife and nephew?” I ask and change the tone of the conversation so fast that most of the room fails to keep up.
“Are they at your place or one of your private properties, the ones you have under shell corporations all over the city? Lincoln Park? Mayfair?”
“You’re so full of shit, it’s ridiculous,” Mancuso scoffs.
Caroline gives me a horrified look. I guess I wasn’t supposed to mention the Mayfair property. I should be kinder to her, considering she led me to Valentina last night. Had it not been for Caroline… a lot of things wouldn’t have happened. Thoughts click in the back of my head.
Who did what.
The puzzle pieces are starting to come together.
“The truth is that my leadership has been under attack for a long time,” I say to the Camorra.
“While my authority doesn’t resemble that of a king, it does resemble that of a manager, let’s say.
And my decisions over the past few years have rarely been in the Mancuso syndicate’s favor,” I add.
“But not because I harbor a grudge against this old bastard. It’s because his ineptitude would’ve cost us more if I had approved his little pet projects. We might as well just face it.”
Mancuso shakes his head in vehement dismay.
Romano, however, doesn’t seem moved. “It’s not just about the Gamberetti gala, though,” he tells me. “One of your trucks was hit, which means that at least one of your transport routes is compromised.”
“One of the main routes, I might add,” Freddie Greco quips. “It’s costing all of us a fortune right now, Luca.”
“I’m well aware, and I’m handling it.”
“How are you handling it?”
Jimmy cuts in. “What the hell is wrong with you people? For years, Luca has been nothing but solid and true to his word. He’s fair and just in his deliveries, both in and out of this conference room.”
“Don’t worry about it, Jimmy,” I say, trying to stop him.
“No, no, they need to hear this,” he says, then looks around at the table.
“You’ve all seen significant growth in profits over the past couple of years, at least. There are fewer skirmishes in the streets.
Even the Russians know to keep their distance from our main trading points.
And you’re all being willfully blind or fucking cowards right now if you fail to recognize this for what it is. ”
Romano raises an eyebrow. “What is it then?”
“A pathetic attempt at a coup,” Jimmy replies.
“Someone has been systematically sabotaging my operations, and my personal life, as well. It’s insidious, and it isn’t just foul play. It breaks every fucking code of the Camorra,” I say.
“Without concrete evidence, you know you can’t point fingers.
We don’t stand for unsubstantiated accusations, Luca.
We did that in the ’90s, and it nearly destroyed us.
The Feds almost took us all down,” Romano says.
“The fact of the matter is you’ve got a leak in your organization, a serious one.
And until you fix that, we’re all having a hard time following you into the oncoming storm. ”
I give him a hard yet curious look, my blood boiling beneath my calm, composed surface. “What’s that supposed to mean, Joseph? Will you all be voting against me tonight?”
The air thickens, wrought with doubtful glances and hesitation.
Mancuso is restless in his seat, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
There is only so much I can do in the absence of solid evidence—a rule I’ve heavily enforced over the years myself, and it would make me a glaring hypocrite in front of all of them if I chose to ignore it now.
Whatever comes next, I’ll face it.
The whole fucking Camorra can burn down, as far as I’m concerned. I’ll drop everything, as long as I have Valentina and Michael back safe and sound. Fuck it, I’ll move us to another city, another country. None of it matters, not anymore.
“No,” Joseph says, “I don’t think any of us are ready to cast a vote tonight.”
“I am, and I’m not the only one,” Mancuso replies, earning himself a few nods from around the table. I make a mental note to deal with the Greco and Rossi syndicates later down the road, provided I survive this.
Joseph shakes his head. “I’m giving you forty-eight hours, Luca.”
“For what?” I ask.
“To plug whatever hole you’ve got in your organization, no matter the cost. Forty-eight hours, and then we’ll reconvene,” he says, “out of respect for your years of proven and consistent leadership. Aside from Mauro, who has a personal bone to pick, I’m hoping the rest of the table agrees?”
In different circumstances, I’d say this entire meeting was anticlimactic at best. But it isn’t.
It’s a mixed bag. On one hand, I’ve earned myself a reprieve, judging by the reluctant nods Joseph gets in response.
On the other hand, it’s a very short reprieve.
Everything could change in forty-eight hours, and not for the better.
I’ll take it, though. It’s better than nothing.
Outside the building, I wait by the car. Solomon’s behind the wheel, scrolling through message updates. There’s been no movement on any of the fronts, and I’m starting to feel as if I’m standing in my own personal purgatory, which is slowly but surely eating me up inside.
When Caroline and her father walk out. I catch up to them.
“I know it’s you,” I tell the old man. “I don’t know how you’re doing it, but I know it’s you. I’ll get my family back, though.”
“And I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about,” Mancuso shoots back.
“Come on, relax, Mauro. There aren’t cameras around, no concerned dons to buy into your bullshit theatricals.
I know you have Valentina and Michael, just as I know you have my brother.
If ever there was a good time for you to start making some lucrative demands for yourself, this would be it.
This is your opportunity to get what you want. What is it?”
Caroline remains still, glued to her father’s side, but she doesn’t say a word.
I can’t read her expression anymore. Concern, fear, calculation. It could be any or all of the above. As long as the old man is still kicking and screaming, however, she lacks the authority and the power to put an end to this. So, I must do it for her.
Mauro scowls. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years on this earth, Luca, it’s patience. Everything leads somewhere, and that somewhere always turns out in my favor one way or another.”
“I’m trying to understand your endgame, when you have me standing before you, right here, right now, asking for your demands,” I reply.
“All in good time, my boy, all in good time.”
Caroline’s brows are furrowed in confusion, but she keeps her thoughts to herself, choosing to accompany her father back to their car. I watch them with dark eyes, analyzing every fucking gesture and movement, until they disappear inside the bulletproof Mercedes.
“I’ve got eyes on them,” Solomon assures me from behind the wheel.
Precisely three seconds after the Mancusos’ car turns the corner, one of ours follows from a safe distance. We’re already spread thin. Something’s got to give somewhere eventually.
“Good,” I tell Solomon. “We need eyes and ears everywhere. Mancuso’s got my family. He’s building up to something.”
“You’ve still got us, Mr. Petrucci.”
And thank fuck I do, because as much as I’d love to go old school on the dons’ ancient asses, I can’t bring the Feds and the cops into this madness. I can do something else, though. Something I didn’t think of before.
Closer to midnight, I find Ethan Reece in his office, going over some case files.
As soon as he sees me standing in the doorway, he frowns. Behind him, the precinct is quiet and dimly lit. There isn’t much activity downstairs either. It’s as if the entire city has chosen peace tonight.
“What brings you here, Mr. Petrucci?” Reece mutters, choosing to flip through another file, instead of getting himself fully invested in my presence.
“Someone kidnapped my wife and nephew.”
He stills and looks up, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and concern. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I was there.”
A closer look at the healing bruises on my face and the stitches above my eyebrow, and he can confirm. “Shit. Where did this happen? When? Did you file a report? I didn’t hear anything come through this precinct.”
“I didn’t file a report, Detective Reece. You know how we prefer to handle these issues in Chicago.”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes at me. “Right, right. Then what are you doing here?”
“I need your help.”
Those are the four hardest words I’ve ever had to say in my life. If my father were to hear me say them, he’d probably disown me. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and we’re nowhere close to finding Valentina.
Reece is even more surprised by my request than by the news I just delivered.
“You spoke to my wife and tried to offer her an out,” I say.
“I was just doing my job, Mr. Petrucci. Given what she had already been through, the woman looked like she needed a break.”
It’s hard not to take any of this personally, but a law enforcement influence will come in handy later down the road—unlike my predecessors, however, and particularly for this situation, I need the influence to come about naturally in an almost organic fashion.
It will also give me better access to Chicago PD’s resources in the future.
What I’m about to do is a dangerous gamble, but the payoff is simply too enticing.
The fact that Reece seems to have a soft spot for my wife doesn’t exactly sit well with me, but given the circumstances, I need this motherfucker motivated.
“All I ever did was try to protect her,” I say. “Not knowing which of my enemies were coming after us, it was hard to adjust our defenses accordingly. She was never truly safe on her own.”