Chapter 17 - The Traitor Revealed
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Dante stood perfectly still in the doorway of the office, the muzzle of his pistol still smoking. Downstairs, the gunfire had stopped. The club was dead silent.
Matteo kept his gun aimed squarely at Dante’s chest. The man who had fought by his side for fifteen years. The man who had saved him at the railyard. The man who was now holding a weapon in the presence of his boss.
“Why did you shoot him, Dante?” Matteo asked, his voice completely devoid of emotion, a dangerous sign of absolute focus.
“He was reaching for a backup weapon, Boss,” Dante said gruffly, lowering his pistol slowly. “I saw it in his ankle holster. He was going to put a bullet in your stomach while you were distracted.”
Matteo glanced down at Victor’s body. The ankle of his tailored suit was slightly bunched up, revealing the silver grip of a small derringer. Dante was telling the truth. Or, he was incredibly lucky.
“He was talking,” Matteo said, his eyes never leaving Dante’s face. “He mentioned an Architect. A supplier who set him up to take the waterfront.”
Dante’s expression didn't change. “Victor was a rat trying to bargain for his life. He would have blamed the mayor if it bought him another five minutes of breathing. We got the head of the snake, Matteo. It’s over. You can go back to Lena.”
Matteo slowly lowered his gun, but he didn't holster it. The math in his head wasn't adding up. If Dante was the traitor, why did he save Matteo at the railyard? Why did he rally the men?
Unless Dante didn't want Matteo dead. Unless Dante wanted Victor dead, and needed Matteo to do the dirty work for him so Dante could take over the territory cleanly.
“You're right,” Matteo said quietly. “It’s over. Tell the men to burn the club. Erase the evidence. I'm going back to the clinic.”
Dante nodded respectfully. “I'll handle the cleanup, Boss.”
Matteo walked past Dante, purposefully brushing his injured shoulder against the big man. He walked down the spiral staircase, through the ruined club, and out into the cool night air.
He climbed into his remaining SUV and pulled out his burner phone. He didn't call Lena. He called his old accountant, a nervous man named Silvio who managed the offshore books.
“Silvio,” Matteo commanded. “I need you to trace a money trail. Victor’s supplier. Find out who has been moving bulk product onto the docks for the last month.”
“Boss, that takes time,” Silvio stammered. “The shell companies are heavily encrypted.”
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“You have one hour,” Matteo said coldly. “Or I'm coming to visit you.”
Matteo hung up. He looked in the rearview mirror as the Platinum Club burst into flames behind him. He prayed to God that Dante wasn't the traitor. Because if he was, Matteo was going to have to kill his best friend.
