Chapter 5 - Dinner With the DevilGabriel chose a church.
Nora found the irony insulting.
St. Catherine’s had been abandoned for six years, its stone walls darkened by Chicago winters and its stained-glass windows boarded from the inside.
Victor hated the location.
Too many entrances.
Too many shadows.
Too many places for an ambush.
Nora entered anyway.
Gabriel DeLuca waited near the altar.
He was sixty-one.
Silver-haired.
Elegant.
Nothing about him resembled the monster Nora had imagined.
That made him more frightening.
He smiled when he saw her.
“Nora.”
She felt nothing.
Victor stood to her right.
Adrian to her left.
Gabriel’s expression changed when he saw the brothers together.
“That’s touching.”
Victor said, “Talk.”
Gabriel ignored him.
His attention remained on Nora.
“You have your mother’s eyes.”
“Her name.”
“Elena Moretti.”
Victor reacted.
Nora noticed.
“You know that name?”
Victor answered carefully.
“Moretti was an old Chicago family.”
Gabriel smiled.
“More than that.”
He looked at Nora.
“Your mother was Salvatore Falcone’s daughter.”
Silence.
Nora stared.
Victor’s face changed.
Adrian whispered, “Jesus.”
Nora looked between them.
“Explain.”
Gabriel walked slowly along the altar rail.
“Elena was Salvatore’s only child. Brilliant. Rebellious. She hated everything her father represented.”
“And you?”
“I loved her.”
“Did she love you?”
Gabriel paused.
“That question has haunted me for twenty-three years.”
Nora understood the answer.
Not enough.
Gabriel continued.
“When Elena became pregnant, Salvatore saw opportunity. A DeLuca-Falcone child could unite two organizations.”
Nora felt sick.
“I was a business arrangement.”
“To Salvatore.”
“And to you?”
Gabriel looked genuinely wounded.
“My daughter.”
“Answer.”
“No.”
For the first time, Nora believed him.
Gabriel said, “Elena disappeared shortly after you were born.”
“Because of you?”
“Because of Salvatore.”
Victor stepped forward.
“Convenient.”
Gabriel’s gaze moved toward him.
“Your uncle killed your parents. Do you still find anything about him difficult to believe?”
Victor said nothing.
Gabriel looked at Nora again.
“Elena gave you to Richie Dempsey.”
“Why him?”
“He was investigating Salvatore.”
“Why would a police officer secretly adopt a mobster’s granddaughter?”
“Because Elena begged him.”
Nora’s eyes burned.
“Where is she?”
Gabriel’s face changed.
“She died.”
Nora had expected it.
Still, the words hurt.
“When?”
“Twenty-two years ago.”
“How?”
“She tried to leave Chicago.”
Gabriel looked toward the broken altar.
“Salvatore found her.”
Nora understood.
“You let him kill her.”
“No.”
“You were a crime boss.”
“I was twenty-nine and arrogant enough to believe nobody could touch what belonged to me.”
Victor stiffened at the wording.
Gabriel continued.
“By the time I found her, she was dying.”
Nora refused to cry.
“What did she say?”
Gabriel looked at her.
“She told me our daughter would never belong to either family.”
Nora’s throat tightened.
“That’s why Richie hid you.”
Gabriel reached inside his coat.
Victor immediately drew his weapon.
Gabriel slowly removed a small cassette tape.
“Richie recorded Elena before she died.”
Nora stared.
“The recording.”
“Yes.”
“Give it to me.”
Gabriel smiled sadly.
“No.”
Victor’s weapon rose.
Gabriel ignored him.
“I want the ledger.”
Nora almost laughed.
There it was.
Every tender sentence had led to business.
“My mother’s final words for a criminal ledger?”
“The ledger keeps me alive.”
“And you think I care?”
Gabriel’s smile disappeared.
“You should.”
“Why?”
“Because if I die, so does Adrian.”
Adrian froze.
Victor turned.
“What?”
Gabriel looked at him.
“You still haven’t told your brother everything.”
Victor grabbed Adrian.
“What is he talking about?”
Adrian looked away.
Nora knew.
Another secret.
Always another secret.
“Adrian.”
He finally spoke.
“Gabriel’s organization has people inside the Falcone family.”
Victor’s expression hardened.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Enough.”
Gabriel said, “Including someone very close to you.”
Victor turned toward him.
“Name.”
“Ledger.”
“No.”
“Then keep wondering which friend will put a bullet in your back.”
A noise came from above.
Victor looked toward the balcony.
Too late.
The lights died.
Gunfire erupted.
Nora dropped behind a stone pew.
Victor covered her.
Adrian moved toward the side aisle.
Gabriel shouted something.
Chaos filled the church.
When emergency lights flickered on, Gabriel was gone.
So was Adrian.
Victor stared at the empty aisle.
“No.”
Nora found blood.
Not much.
A trail.
Victor followed it to a side door.
Outside, tires screamed.
A black van disappeared.
Victor raised his weapon but did not fire.
Adrian had been taken.
Or had gone willingly.
Victor punched the stone wall.
“Damn it!”
Nora grabbed his wrist.
“Stop.”
“He betrayed us.”
“You don’t know that.”
“He disappeared with Gabriel.”
“There was blood.”
“Could be theater.”
“Victor.”
He looked at her.
“Your brother spent fourteen years trapped between your uncle and Gabriel. Maybe stop assuming betrayal every time someone disappears.”
Victor stared at her.
The words hit.
Because she was right.
Again.
They returned to the penthouse.
At 2:00 a.m., Anthony Bellini arrived.
He brought worse news.
Federal agents had raided three Falcone businesses.
Victor read the warrants.
“Money laundering. Racketeering. Tax fraud.”
Anthony nodded.
“They knew exactly where to look.”
Victor’s face hardened.
“The mole.”
“Yes.”
Nora sat at the kitchen island.
Something bothered her.
Timing.
Gabriel met them.
Adrian disappeared.
Federal raids began simultaneously.
“Gabriel wanted Victor distracted.”
Anthony looked at her.
“What?”
“He doesn’t need the ledger.”
Victor turned.
Nora continued.
“He wanted us to think he did.”
“Why?”
“Because whatever he really wants is somewhere we’re not looking.”
Victor became still.
Nora thought about Richie.
The storage unit.
The photographs.
The recording.
Her mother.
Then she remembered something.
“My father’s badge.”
Victor frowned.
“What about it?”
“My mother kept it.”
“Where?”
“Safe-deposit box.”
Victor was already reaching for his coat.
The bank opened at nine.
They arrived at eight fifty-five.
The box contained Richie’s badge.
His wedding ring.
Three photographs.
And a key.
Victor examined it.
“Not a house key.”
Nora turned it over.
A number had been engraved into the metal.
C-1187.
Anthony made a call.
Thirty minutes later, they had an answer.
Union Station.
Long-term luggage lockers.
The locker had been rented twenty-two years earlier.
Nora opened it.
Inside sat a small metal case.
She expected documents.
Instead, she found a VHS tape.
A passport.
And a letter addressed to her.
Nora opened the letter.
Sweetheart,
If you are reading this, then I failed to keep the past buried.
There are things about your birth I wanted to tell you when you were old enough, but every year I waited because every year I loved being your father more.
Blood creates relatives.
Choice creates family.
Never forget that.
Nora stopped reading.
Victor placed a hand on her shoulder.
She continued.
Gabriel will tell you that power is protection.
Salvatore will tell you that fear is protection.
Both are wrong.
Truth is protection.
And the truth is recorded on the tape.
Trust no Falcone until you have watched it.
Nora slowly looked at Victor.
He had read the last sentence.
Something changed between them.
Not anger.
Not yet.
But doubt.
Victor stepped back.
Nora held the tape.
“Trust no Falcone.”
Victor’s expression became unreadable.
“That includes me.”
Nora swallowed.
May you like
“Yes.”
For the first time since the restaurant, they stood on opposite sides of something neither of them could shoot.
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