Chapter 6 - Sanctuary Behind Closed Doors
The federal safehouse was tucked away inside an unassuming concrete office building downtown, flanked by a 24-hour dental clinic and an empty tax firm. To anyone driving past in the rain, it looked like a place where paperwork went to die. To me, it looked like the only place on earth where my daughter would see the sunrise.
Ruby parked the sedan right by the side entrance, killing the headlights before the transmission even settled into park.
"Stay here in the car with the doors locked," I told her, shifting Sofia carefully in my arms. "If anyone approaches that isn't holding a federal badge, drive straight through the security gate out back. Don't look back."
"Mr. Moretti," Ruby said, her voice dropping into a quiet earnestness as she reached across the center console and touched my sleeve. "I'm coming with you. My shift ended twenty minutes ago, and frankly, I'd like to see the look on a federal agent's face when a diner waitress drops a multi-million-dollar syndicate right onto his desk."
I couldn't help the faint, grim smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Come on then, partner."
We carried Sofia up the concrete ramp into the secure lobby. The duty officer at the bulletproof glass window took one look at my face, registered the child sleeping soundly against my chest, and reached for the direct intercom line to Special Agent Vance. Within thirty seconds, the heavy security door clicked open with a deep, magnetic hum.
Agent Vance was waiting for us in a cramped, windowless conference room dominated by a scratched oak table and a whiteboard covered in flowcharts of the Moretti shipping network. He looked older than he had six months ago—tired lines etched around his eyes, a half-empty cup of stale coffee sitting next to an open file folder.
When he saw me step through the door with Sofia, he stood up so fast his chair screeched against the linoleum.
"Enzo?" Vance stared at the child, then at me. "What in God's name happened? We got an anonymous tip an hour ago that your diner was being hit by an armed response team, but local dispatch said your security system was jammed."
I walked over to the corner sofa and gently laid Sofia down, arranging my overcoat over her as a blanket. She didn't stir, her breathing deep and regular. Turning back to Vance, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small plastic flash drive, placing it squarely in the center of his desk.
"My brother Dante tried to murder my daughter because she found this," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion, cold as winter stone. "It contains every ledger, every offshore account number, and every fake customs manifest he's run through our docks for the past four years. He thought he could buy my silence with family loyalty."
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Vance stared at the flash drive like it was a live grenade. Slowly, he looked up at me, his eyes sharp and calculating. "You realize what this means, Enzo? Once I plug this into the secure network and verify the contents, there’s no turning back. We roll on every warehouse, every shipping container, and every associate—starting with Dante."
"Roll on all of them," I said. "And make sure Dante gets the cell at the very bottom."
