Chapter 9 - The Call from the River
My phone buzzed violently in my hand, cutting off the SEC video stream.
An incoming call from an unlisted, secure direct line.
I swiped the screen and pressed it to my ear.
“Agent Vale,” a deep, gravelly, and entirely composed voice spoke through the speaker. It sounded like coarse sandpaper sliding over polished steel.
My muscles tensed automatically. “Who is this?”
“My name is Dominic Moretti,” the voice replied, unbothered by my defensive tone. “And I believe your father’s signature is currently sitting on the bottom of a very expensive, very illegal customs declaration form that my security team just pulled out of a safe in my building.”
Across the plaza, the wail of approaching sirens began to echo in the distance as the paramedics responded to my father’s medical emergency.
“Moretti,” I said, keeping my voice level. “Your company’s shipping accounts were used as the primary conduit for a multi-million-dollar laundering ring orchestrated by Arthur Sterling and my family. If you’re calling to negotiate, you’re about three weeks too late. The SEC has already seized your primary server clusters.”
A low, humorless chuckle came through the line.
“Agent Vale, you think I didn't know Sterling was bleeding my logistics network?” Dominic’s tone turned cold and razor-sharp. “I let him use the conduits. I let him think he was clever. Because I wanted to see every single rat who took his money crawl out of the woodwork.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about an invitation,” Moretti said smoothly. “Your father’s little syndicate wasn't just laundering money through Northern Lake Capital. They were moving something much darker through my ports. If you want the real file—the one Sterling kept hidden away from the SEC and your father—meet me at the old dry docks on 31st Street in forty minutes.”
May you like
Before I could answer, the line went dead.
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