Page 58 of Forever Lies
“She didn’t answer my texts or calls, so I came to her place. Her purse is here with everything in it—phone, keys—but she’s not here. She knows the dangers; I’d just told her she wasn’t to go anywhere without an escort. Her driver brought her home, but someone must have taken her as soon as she got here.”
He was silent for a moment, and I waited for his instruction. He far outranked me, even if he was from a different outfit.
“Let me make some calls. You check out the security office at her building and see what the cameras show.”
“Got it.” The phone clicked dead, and I resisted the urge to launch the device against the wall. How could I have fucked this up so badly? I’d been watching her, warned her and her father, got information to the Commission as fast as I could, and it hadn’t been enough. Alessia was gone, and all I could do was hope she was still alive.
After threatening to cut off his balls, I was finally able to get the concierge to take me back to the security office. The surveillance film for the lobby over the previous hour showed only residents coming and going. When we pulled up the footage for the fourteenth floor, the recording started just thirty minutes earlier. Everything prior to that had been erased.
“Is there another way up, aside from the front lobby?” I asked the older man who was clearly shaken.
“There’s a service elevator and emergency exit out the back.”
“Are there cameras in those locations?”
“No. The backdoor stays locked, and the service elevator requires a keycard.”
Whoever had done this had been savvy enough to cover their tracks. I thanked the man for his help and called Enzo to give him an update. He instructed me to call my underboss and have him meet us at Tedesco’s, a small Italian joint in Little Italy. The old-timers used to base their operations in that area, but things didn’t work that way anymore. With modern technology, there was no reason to be so predictable. Little Italy existed for tourists, that was about it.
When I arrived, I was escorted to a basement where an ancient table and chairs were set up in the middle of the room. The scene was straight out of an old gangster movie—empty cellar with a single dangling light over a rectangular table, highlighting the angles of each severe face below. Enzo was there with his brother, Edoardo, who had been acting as his Consigliere. The two brothers had relied too heavily on Sal for information, both completely ignorant to what had been going on. Next to them sat my underboss, MichaelAbbatelli, who nodded as I entered the room. Along with them, the Moretti underboss sat at the table, face stoic as he waited to hear why everyone had been gathered.
“What’s the plan?” I asked, not allowing any of my wariness to enter my voice.
“We’re waiting on the Giordano and Gallo representatives to show up, then we talk,” said Enzo, his features devoid of emotion. I was impressed. He’d managed to call together an impromptu meeting of The Five Families. The only seats missing from the Commission were those occupied by the Chicago Outfit, but this was too short of notice to get them here.
I went to stand on the back wall, knowing it was not my place to sit at the table with the underbosses, when Enzo spoke up.
“Have a seat,” he motioned to a chair across from him. “You’re just as much a part of this as the rest of us.”
I followed his instructions and sat at the table next to Abbetelli. Moments later, steps sounded on the wooden stairs. I tensed as Matteo De Luca, underboss of the Gallo family, came into view. He was an intimidating bastard—tattoos inked on each finger and snaking up from the collar of his dress shirt. There was nothing subtle or demure about him. He made no attempt to hide who he was or mask the nature of his dealings. He didn’t draw unnecessary attention, but he also didn’t try to fit in with civilized society.
“De Luca, I appreciate you joining us. I know this is rather unorthodox.” Enzo stood, an offering of respect to the rival family. He had to be fuming inside—his calm exterior was truly impressive.
De Luca was in his late thirties, young for an underboss, but he was good at commanding respect. He too had hisgame face on, making it impossible to tell if we were about to have a civil discussion or unleash a bloody war.
“Unorthodox, yes, but also reminiscent of the old days.” Matteo gazed around the musty basement. “You appear to have a nostalgic side. I remember sitting upstairs as a kid while my father had meets down here.”
“From what I’ve learned recently, I knew trust would be hard to come by. I figured old Gallo stomping grounds would give me a better shot of getting you to show up.”
Matteo gave a nod with a tight smirk that held no humor. “There’s been some very bad blood between our families, and recent months have not made things any better.”
The door above creaked open, and all eyes turned to the stairs as the Giordano underboss joined the party. Each man had come with one or two soldiers who now stood lined against the walls, eyeing the room cautiously.
“Excellent,” Enzo said, drawing everyone’s attention. “Now that we’re all here, we can get started. Edoardo has our Chicago associates on speakerphone, so we don’t leave them out of the discussion. I understand this was very unexpected, and I appreciate everyone giving me their time today. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen all of you, some I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting. From here on out, that changes. It’s been brought to my attention my absence from the scene has enabled my underboss to commit some unforgivable acts in my name. I want to assure each of you, I in no way sanctioned his actions.” As he spoke, Enzo held the eyes of each man at the table, one-by-one, professing his veracity. “We’ve all gone back to the old ways—silent in our operations and demanding absolute adherence to our code. I thought if I remained a ghost, invisible to even my own outfit, it would protect me and my family. If you ever havethe misfortune of losing a child, you would know there is no greater pain. In trying to protect myself from outsiders, I made myself vulnerable to an attack from the inside.”
“I appreciate your efforts to smooth things over,” cut in Matteo. “But how are we supposed to trust you aren’t just throwing Sal under the bus?” His point had been valid, and everyone in the room seemed interested in the answer.
“Because my daughter is missing. I never, ever would have intentionally set in motion events that would so clearly lead to retaliation against my own. Certainly not without taking the proper precautions first. Do you think I’d be fucking stupid enough to have a Gallo man killed the day after I’d met with him?” Enzo’s fervor let slip the first signs of just how deeply he was affected.
Every man in the room shifted at his announcement, and the tension thickened more than I’d thought possible. The room had already been stifling; now, it was downright oppressive.
“How long has she been missing?” asked Abbatelli.
“About two hours, give or take.” He turned to Matteo and addressed him directly. “I fear this is a retaliation hit for the Venturi death, which would mean a Gallo was behind her disappearance. I know it can’t be easy to trust me, but I will be in your debt if you will help me get her back.”
Matteo remained unmoved, only the slightest lift of his chin gave any indication that he’d heard Enzo at all. “There must be blood for blood—how do you propose that’s handled?”
“Sal.” There was no hesitation in Enzo’s response. “The moment I get him into my custody, he’s yours.”
