Chapter 5 - The Trap at the Docks
The night exploded into a chaotic flurry of action.
"Get the cars!" Matteo roared, his voice echoing through the penthouse like a thunderclap. He grabbed his heavy leather jacket and his firearm, his face a mask of cold, lethal calculation. "Marco, get the security team. Lock down every exit in Tribeca. If she reaches the highway, I will have your head on a spike."
"I'm coming with you," Cameron said, stepping forward, her heart hammering.
"No," Matteo said, turning to her, his hand grasping her shoulder with a tight, protective grip. "It is too dangerous. Stay here with Leo."
"No, Mr. Duca!" Cameron argued, her eyes fierce. "If Mrs. Gable left, she didn't leave alone. She knows she’s been caught. If she has the house digital keys, she could have locked down the elevators to trap us, or worse, she could have set a trap for you. I know how she thinks. I’ve been watching her for weeks. She won't run to the highway—she’ll go to the docks. She’s been working with the Lucchese family. They have a container ship leaving the Brooklyn terminal tonight."
Matteo stared at her, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed her words. He knew she was right. The container ship from Palermo—the one Marco had mentioned—was scheduled to depart at midnight.
"Marco, get the SUV," Matteo commanded, turning to his underboss. "We go to the Brooklyn terminal. And bring the girl. She stays in the armored car, but I want her eyes on the ground."
The black Cadillac Escalades tore through the rain-slicked streets of New York, their sirens silent but their speed terrifying as they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge.
Cameron sat in the back of the lead SUV, sandwiched between Matteo and two massive, armed security officers. The air inside the vehicle was thick with tension and the smell of wet leather and oil.
"If she reaches that ship, she is out of our jurisdiction," Marco said from the front passenger seat, his eyes fixed on the GPS screen. "The ship is registered under a Panamanian flag. Once it clears the harbor, the feds can't touch it, and neither can we."
"She won't clear the harbor," Matteo said, his voice cold and flat as death. He was holding a heavy-caliber handgun, checking the magazine with practiced, silent movements. "I will sink that ship myself before I let her escape."
The SUVs slid to a halt outside the Brooklyn Marine Terminal. The area was dark, illuminated only by the flickering yellow floodlights of the massive shipping cranes and the rain falling in sheets over the black water of the East River.
"Move in," Matteo ordered, his voice a quiet command over the tactical radio. "Quietly. No shots unless I give the word."
Cameron watched from the reinforced glass window of the SUV as Matteo and his men slipped into the shadows of the massive shipping containers. The rain was pouring, turning the asphalt into a slick, dangerous maze of metal and water.
Suddenly, a sharp, metallic sound echoed through the terminal.
"Over there!" one of the guards hissed over the radio.
Through the rain, Cameron saw a figure in a long, dark trench coat scurrying toward the gangway of a massive cargo ship. It was Mrs. Gable. She was carrying a heavy leather briefcase, her head down against the wind.
"Stop right there, Mrs. Gable," Matteo’s voice boomed through the terminal, sounding like the wrath of God.
Mrs. Gable froze, her head snapping up. She looked around, her eyes wild with panic as she saw the armed security officers emerging from the shadows of the containers, their weapons aimed directly at her chest.
"Matteo," Mrs. Gable gasped, her voice shaking as she backed toward the edge of the wet pier. "You... you don't understand. I had no choice. They threatened my family. The Lucchese family... they would have killed me."
"You lied to me," Matteo said, walking slowly toward her, his heavy leather boots splashing in the puddles. His weapon was pointed directly at her forehead. "You poisoned my son. You took my hospitality, my money, and my trust, and you used them to try and destroy my family from the inside."
"He's a monster!" Mrs. Gable screamed, her face twisting into a mask of pure, venomous hatred as she looked at him. "Just like his father! He was never going to be normal! I did him a favor! I kept him quiet so he wouldn't have to suffer the same fate as his mother!"
"My wife died because of traitors like you," Matteo said, his voice dropping into a whisper that made the rain feel twenty degrees colder. "And today, the treason ends."
"Wait!"
The voice came from behind the shipping containers.
A group of armed men in dark jackets stepped into the light, their weapons raised. In the lead was a tall, thin man with a scarred neck—the representative of the Lucchese family.
"Put the gun down, Duca," the Lucchese underboss sneered. "The woman belongs to us now. She has the digital keys to your entire shipping network. If you shoot her, those keys go into the harbor, and your empire is dead by morning."
Matteo didn't blink. He didn't even look at the Lucchese men. His eyes remained locked on Mrs. Gable.
"You think my empire is built on digital keys, Marco?" Matteo whispered.
Before the Lucchese underboss could answer, a sudden, blinding searchlight cut through the darkness from the water.
A massive, armored patrol boat bearing the insignia of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey slid alongside the pier, its heavy-caliber machine guns trained directly on the Lucchese men. Behind them, two more Escalades slid to a halt, and twenty more of Matteo’s men emerged, their weapons raised in a perfect, inescapable trap.
Matteo had not just come to catch a thief; he had come to destroy his enemies.
"Drop your weapons," Matteo commanded, his voice echoing over the roar of the boat engines. "Or your bodies will feed the fish in the East River before midnight."
The Lucchese men looked at the overwhelming force surrounding them, then at their underboss, and slowly, one by one, they dropped their handguns onto the wet asphalt.
"No!" Mrs. Gable screamed, realizing she had been completely abandoned. She turned and made a desperate leap toward the gangway of the cargo ship.
But her foot slipped on the wet metal.
With a sharp, terrified cry, she fell backward, her body striking the heavy iron side of the pier before plunging into the black, churning water of the harbor.
The heavy leather briefcase she was holding flew from her hands, landing with a wet thud on the deck of the patrol boat below.
The water swallowed her up, the dark current of the East River pulling her body down into the shadows before anyone could even make a move to save her.
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Matteo stood at the edge of the pier, looking down at the black water for a long, silent moment. His weapon remained at his side, his face completely expressionless.
He turned his back on the harbor and walked back toward the Escalades, his boots clicking softly against the wet asphalt.
