Chapter 7 - Unraveling the Puppet Master
The Vance estate in Brookline was a grand, gated mansion that had belonged to old-money Boston families before Marcus Vance bought it with extortion money.
At 11:45 PM, Marcus Vance sat in his leather armchair in his private library, pouring himself a glass of twenty-year-old scotch. He was a broad-shouldered man in his late fifties with slicked-back grey hair and a cruel, arrogant smirk.
He stared at his phone, waiting for Viktor Reed to call and confirm that the fifty million in bearer bonds had been secured at Pier 42.
Instead, the double doors of his library swung open.
Vance frowned, expecting his butler or security chief. “Reed? Did you get the bonds?”
A man stepped into the room. But it wasn't Reed.
It was Caleb Mercer, wearing a charcoal coat soaked with rain, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. Blood stained the leather of his left boot.
Vance’s smirk vanished instantly. He dropped his glass of scotch, the crystal shattering on the hardwood floor. He reached frantically for the revolver hidden under his desk.
CLICK.
Caleb drew his weapon with breathtaking speed and fired a single round. The bullet shattered Vance’s right hand, obliterating the gun before Vance’s fingers could touch the grip.
Vance shrieked in agony, clutching his bleeding, mangled hand against his chest, dropping to his knees behind the desk. “AHHH! YOU... YOU SON OF A BITCH!”
Caleb walked forward calmly, pulled a heavy leather chair up to the desk, and sat down directly across from the bleeding mob boss. He crossed one leg over the other.
“Where’s my security?!” Vance gasped, sweat pouring down his face as he choked on the pain. “Where are my men?!”
“Your guards outside are sleeping, Marcus,” Caleb said smoothly. “And Viktor Reed is currently floating in Boston Harbor along with eighteen of your best shooters. Pier 42 was a ghost ship. There were no bonds. Just my men, waiting for yours.”
Vance’s face turned gray with realization. “The wire... the bug in your office...”
“I found it four days ago,” Caleb said softly. “Ellie—the little girl whose mother cleans my office—told me where it was. You underestimated a seven-year-old child, Marcus. That was your first mistake.”
“Evelyn...” Vance rasped, his eyes bulging with rage and fear. “That treacherous bitch... she gave me up!”
“No,” Caleb corrected him, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. “Evelyn broke her own heart trying to obey you to keep her sister alive. She suffered every night, lying next to me, carrying the burden of your threats. She loved her sister enough to burn her own life to the ground.”
Caleb leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, looking directly into Vance’s terrified eyes.
“You mistook her love for weakness,” Caleb continued. “And you mistook my silence for ignorance. You thought you could tear my family apart from the inside, take my territory, and walk away a king.”
“Caleb... listen to me...” Vance pleaded, pulling himself back against the wall, leaving a streak of blood on the polished wood. “We can make a deal! I’ll give you my turf! South Boston is yours! Everything! Just let me leave the city!”
Caleb stood up. He walked around the desk until he was standing over Vance.
“My father once told me that when a rat enters your home, you don’t negotiate with it,” Caleb said softly. “You exterminate it so it never hurts your family again.”
Caleb raised his silencer.
“Wait—!” Vance shrieked.
POP.
The room fell silent, save for the patter of rain against the library windows.
Caleb turned and walked out of the mansion, pulling his phone from his coat pocket as he stepped out into the stormy night.
“Jack,” Caleb said into the receiver.
“Boss? Is it done?”
“Vance is dead,” Caleb replied calmly. “His empire is shattered. Secure his properties and take control of his territory by dawn. How is Sophie?”
“She’s resting at the Marblehead estate,” Jack replied. “Dr. Hayes examined her. She’s malnourished and dehydrated, but she has no permanent injuries. She’s asleep in the guest wing.”
“And Evelyn?” Caleb asked, his heart beating slightly faster.
“She’s still in the basement holding cell, boss,” Jack said quietly. “She hasn't stopped crying. She thinks Sophie is dead.”
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Caleb closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the cold rain splash against his skin.
“I’m coming home,” Caleb said.
