Chapter 6 - The Viper in the Citadel
The room fell into a suffocating, terrible silence.
Alejandro slowly turned his head to look at Dr. Edward Mercer, who was standing near the door of the control room.
Mercer had been standing there the whole time. He had watched Alejandro type in the codes. He had seen the video load. And now, he saw his own face frozen on the high-definition display.
Mercer’s medical bag slipped from his hand, hitting the floor with a heavy, metallic thud. The doctor’s face drained of all color, leaving him looking as dead as the patients he had failed to save.
"Alejandro..." Mercer stammered, his voice trembling violently as he took a step backward toward the exit. "Alejandro, listen to me—"
Before Mercer could take another step, Bruno moved like a striking viper. He crossed the room in two strides, grabbed Mercer by the throat, and slammed him violently against the concrete wall of the control room. The doctor let out a strangled gasp, his feet dangling inches off the floor as Bruno’s iron grip squeezed his windpipe.
"You bastard!" Bruno roared, his face contorted in rage, drawing his sidearm and pressing the cold steel barrel directly against Mercer’s forehead. "Twenty years! You've been his doctor for twenty years!"
"Bruno. Stop," Alejandro commanded. His voice was terrifyingly calm, devoid of all emotion.
Bruno hesitated, his finger white-hot on the trigger, before slowly lowering the doctor to the ground. Mercer crumpled into a heap on the floor, clutching his throat and coughing wildly.
Alejandro walked over, standing above the man who had treated his family for two decades. He reached down, grabbed Mercer by the lapels of his expensive tweed jacket, and hauled him up into a chair, locking the doctor's eyes with his own.
"Why?" Alejandro asked softly. "I gave you everything. I built your clinic. I paid off your debts. I protected your family when the Lucchese family tried to squeeze you ten years ago. Why, Edward?"
Mercer swallowed hard, tears of terror and shame spilling from his eyes. "They... they have my son, Alejandro," he wept, his voice cracking. "Dominic... my boy in Columbia Law. The Lucchese family caught him in a high-stakes illegal gambling ring in Manhattan. He owed them four million dollars. Joseph Lucchese told me... if I didn't eliminate you before the end of the month, they would send me my son's hands in a box."
Alejandro stared at him, his face unreadable. "So you decided my life was worth your son's debt."
"I had no choice!" Mercer cried out, trembling uncontrollably. "They gave me the toxin! They knew about your anaphylaxis because I... because I had to give them your private file three weeks ago when they first threatened him! They said it would look like an organic medical event—a sudden stroke or heart failure! No one would suspect poison because no one knew about the allergy!"
"Except you," Alejandro whispered. "And now, everyone knows."
Mercer grabbed Alejandro’s sleeve, pleading like a condemned man at the gallows. "I'm sorry, Alejandro! I'm so sorry! Please... don't kill Dominic. He didn't know anything about this! Kill me, but spare my boy!"
Alejandro slowly detached Mercer’s hand from his coat. He stepped back, turning his back on the doctor.
"Bruno," Alejandro said calmly.
"Yes, Don Alejandro?"
"Take Dr. Mercer to the basement holding cell. Strip him of his phone, his belt, and his laces. Make sure he doesn't harm himself."
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"And his son?" Bruno asked, pulling Mercer up from the chair.
Alejandro’s eyes flashed with a lethal, ancient brilliance. "Call the front gate. Tell the lieutenants to arm the convoy. Joseph Lucchese thinks he bought himself a Don tonight. It's time to show him what he actually bought."
