Chapter 3 - The Ghost of the HarborWhile Marcus and Daniel secured Nathan and Claire in the lower holding cells beneath the study, Dominic retreated to his private communication terminal. The room smelled of ozone and hot electronics as the high-gain satellite dishes locked onto a secure, deep-sea encrypted frequency that hadn't been pinged in over five years.
I stood near the door, watching him. For all his ruthlessness, Dominic Vale looked exhausted. The betrayal by Nathan—the man who had pulled him from that burning car in Boston—had carved a hollow space in his chest that no amount of syndicate power could fill.
“Boss,” I said softly. “Who are you calling? The Chicago Board?”
“No,” Dominic replied without turning around. “The Board in Chicago thinks they own me because they control the Midwest ports. But they forgot where the original money came from.”
The terminal screen flickered, flashing a green authorization banner: SECURE LINE ESTABLISHED – PORT OF BOSTON (RESTRICTED ACCESS).
A heavy, static-filled voice answered on the other end, speaking with a thick, gravelly Boston accent that sounded like crushed glass.
“If this isn't Dominic, you’ve got about three seconds before I trace this signal and blow your satellite dish off the roof.”
“It’s me, Uncle Vinnie,” Dominic said.
The line went dead silent for five full seconds.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Vincent “The Hammer” Gallo growled over the speaker. The old man was seventy-eight years old, the retired patriarch of the New England syndicate, and the man who had secretly financed Dominic’s rise before they had a falling out over territorial boundaries a decade ago. “The prodigal son calls. Last time we spoke, you told me you didn't need my family’s protection anymore. What’s the matter, kid? Did the New York high life finally chew you up?”
“Nathan Cross tried to overthrow me,” Dominic stated flatly. “He locked a maid in my wine cellar for three days, embezzled twelve million from our offshore logistics accounts, and partnered with the Chicago Board behind my back.”
A low, guttural laugh rumbled through the speaker.
“Nathan? That little Boston street rat I fished out of a dumpster back in '09? I told you he was a viper, Dominic. You trusted a stray dog, and now he’s biting the hand that fed him. What do you want from me? An army?”
“I want the shipping manifests for every container ship leaving Boston harbor for Chicago over the next forty-eight hours,” Dominic said. “Nathan has been running a secondary drug and contraband pipeline right through my territory using my own supply chains. I need to choke him out before he realizes we know.”
“Consider it done,” Vinnie muttered. “But a Boston favor isn't free, kid. When this is over, you and I are sitting down to renegotiate the New England corridor. Understood?”
“Understood,” Dominic replied.
May you like
He cut the connection and turned back to me. His face was set in stone.
“Get the car ready,” Dominic commanded. “We’re going to the Red Hook shipping yards. Nathan thinks he can run my empire behind my back? We’re going to show him what happens when the king reclaims his throne.”
