Chapter 10 - The Midnight Call
Before I could answer, my father picked up the satellite phone and punched a single, five-digit speed-dial code into the keypad.
The room fell into an absolute, suffocating silence. We waited through three long, rhythmic rings before a gravelly, deep voice answered on the other end.
“Moretti Logistics. State your business.”
“Tell Viktor his favorite cousin David is calling,” my father said, his voice dropping into a register so cold and hard it sent a shiver straight down my spine. “And tell him I have something he wants much more than a stack of old federal paperwork.”
A sharp intake of breath hissed through the speaker on the other end. “David? Well, I’ll be damned. The ghost walks. Word on the waterfront was you traded your ledger for a lawnmower.”
“The lawnmower broke, Viktor,” Dad replied smoothly. “Tell me—how much is my old federal informant file worth to you? Because if you want the digital decryption keys to the remaining Moretti offshore accounts I buried in the Caymans back in ’99, you’re going to meet me tonight. Alone.”
A tense pause stretched across the line. I stood frozen beside the desk, watching my father maneuver a chess game with players who held live ammunition.
“Where?” Viktor’s voice rasped greedily.
“Pier 14,” Dad said. “Midnight. Bring my wife with you, or the keys stay buried forever.”
The line clicked dead.
My father lowered the satellite phone slowly, turning his gaze from the dark window to look directly at me. The weariness of a few hours ago was completely gone, replaced by the lethal focus of a man protecting his blood.
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“Dad,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “What are we walking into?”
“A trap,” my father replied, opening the lower drawer of his desk and pulling out a heavy, matte-black Sig Sauer pistol, checking the magazine with a practiced, fluid click. “Mine or theirs. Get your coat, Sandy. We’re going to finish what your mother started.”
