Chapter 6: The Man Who Never Moved First
Dominic Caruso had a particular gift.
He made you feel like the conversation was going exactly where he wanted it to go — and then, when you realized it wasn't, you were already somewhere you couldn't easily leave.
"I don't know what Marco has told you," Dominic said.
His voice was calm.
Reasonable.
The voice of a man who had spent thirty years in rooms where calm and reasonable were the most dangerous weapons available.
"Marco told me about Reyes," Vincent said.
"The sh00ter.
The freight corridor.
The shell company."
"Then Marco told you more than he should have."
Marco's head turned.
"Interesting response," Vincent said.
"Most people, when accused of planting listening devices, say they didn't do it."
"I'm not most people."
"No.
You're not." Vincent looked at the leather folder on Dominic's knee.
"Open it."
"These are the harbor papers.
Transfer of operational—"
"I know what they are.
Open it."
Dominic opened the folder.
Inside were three pages of legal transfer documents.
Vincent's signature line was at the bottom of the third page, blank.
"You've been trying to get me to sign those for two months," Vincent said.
"The corridor transfer has a deadline.
If the paperwork isn't filed by the end of the month—"
"Who benefits if I sign?"
"The Corvino operation.
We consolidate control of the—"
"Who benefits personally, Dominic."
A pause.
"The restructuring creates a management position.
Oversight of the full corridor."
"Your position."
Dominic said nothing.
"And if I don't sign," Vincent continued, "the corridor stays under Reyes's informal control.
Which means Reyes keeps skimming.
Which means the shell company keeps running.
Which means whoever is taking a percentage of that shell company keeps getting paid."
Dominic's jaw moved.
Just slightly.
"How long have you been taking money from Reyes?" Vincent said.
"That's a serious accusation."
"It's a question."
"I'm not going to sit here and—"
"Marco." Vincent didn't look away from Dominic.
"The transfer records.
The shell company account numbers.
Do they show a secondary distribution?"
Marco's voice was quiet.
"I only looked at the inflow.
I didn't trace the outflow."
"Because you were focused on Reyes," Vincent said.
"You didn't think to look at where the money went after it arrived." He looked at Dominic.
"But someone who knew the shell company existed — someone who helped set it up — would have made sure they had a clean path to their share."
Dominic stood up.
The leather folder dropped to the floor.
"You have nothing," he said.
"You have a theory.
You have a man in a wheelchair who's been isolated for six months, fed information by a subordinate who installed illegal surveillance in his own employer's bedroom, and now you want to point at me." His voice hardened.
"I've kept this organization running while you were upstairs feeling sorry for yourself.
Every contract, every union rep, every legal front — that was me.
You want to accuse me of something, Vincent, you better have more than Marco Vitale's word."
The room was very still.
Tessa had not moved from the vanity.
Vincent looked at Dominic for a long moment.
Then he looked at Tessa.
"The second device," he said.
"The one under the lamp.
When did it start transmitting?"
Tessa looked at the underside of the base she had set on the table.
"There's a date stamp on the battery casing.
Standard install marker." She tilted it toward the light.
"Seven months ago."
"Before the sh00ting," Vincent said.
"One month before," Tessa said.
Vincent looked back at Dominic.
"Marco installed his devices after I came home from the hospital.
Six months ago.
But yours has been running for seven." He let that land.
"You were listening before I was sh0t.
Before the bullet.
Before the surgery.
You were already in this room."
Dominic's hand went to his jacket pocket.
Marco was on his feet before the hand cleared the fabric.
"Don't," Marco said.
The word came out flat and absolute.
Dominic's hand stopped.
"Sit back down," Vincent said.
Dominic sat.
Slowly.
His hand returned to his knee, empty.
"You hired Reyes to take out the one person who was about to expose the shell company," Vincent said.
"Not me.
You hired him to take out the man who'd been quietly building a case against the whole arrangement for the past year." He paused.
"You hired him to take out Marco."
Marco went very still.
"I was the wrong target," Marco said.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"That's what you meant.
The sh00ter had bad information."
"He had the right block.
The right night.
The wrong coat." Vincent looked at Dominic.
"Marco and I were both at that dinner.
Same block.
Similar build.
Dark coats." He felt something cold settle in his chest.
"The bullet that took my legs was meant for the man sitting next to me right now."
Dominic said nothing.
His silence was its own kind of answer.
"Lauren found out," Vincent said.
"She didn't know the target.
She just knew something was planned.
She paid to stop it and it didn't work." He looked at the photograph still sitting on the bed beside him.
"And you've spent six months letting me think she might be the one who betrayed me."
Dominic's composure cracked.
Just once.
A single line at the corner of his mouth.
"You can't prove any of this," he said.
"Not yet," Vincent said.
"But you just confirmed all of it."
He picked up his phone.
"I'm going to make a call now," he said.
"You're going to sit in that chair until I'm finished.
And then we're going to talk about what happens next."
May you like
Dominic looked at the door.
Marco stepped in front of it.
