Chapter 2 - The Fifteenth Name
Roman read the message twice.
Sadie read it once.
Her face collapsed.
“My God.”
She moved toward the phone.
Roman pulled it away.
“Who sent this?”
Clara shook her head.
“It came to the house staff number.”
Roman looked at the image again.
Benjamin was alive.
That mattered.
His lip was split.
One eye was swollen.
But he was sitting upright.
Behind him were concrete walls and green industrial lamps.
Roman knew warehouses.
The problem was he owned twelve.
“Clara, get Tomas.”
She hesitated.
“Now.”
Clara left.
Sadie reached for the phone again.
“Let me see.”
“No.”
“That’s my brother.”
“And staring at the picture won’t help him.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
Roman looked at her.
For the first time since he had found her arm, Sadie’s fear gave way to anger.
Good.
Anger could move.
Fear froze.
He handed her the phone.
She enlarged the image.
Her fingers shook.
Roman watched what she looked at.
Not Benjamin’s injuries.
The background.
Smart.
“There,” she whispered.
“What?”
“That wall.”
Roman leaned closer.
A faded red stripe ran across the concrete behind Benjamin.
A black number was painted above it.
Sadie swallowed.
“I saw that before.”
“Where?”
“The night they broke my arm.”
Roman’s attention sharpened.
“You were taken somewhere?”
She nodded.
“Which warehouse?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said you recognized the wall.”
“I was blindfolded when they drove me.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“And afterward?”
“They left me near the bus station.”
“With a broken arm.”
“Yes.”
He looked away.
There were moments when murder felt simple.
Roman had spent half his adult life learning not to choose simple solutions.
Tomas entered.
He was Roman’s head of security.
Forty-six.
Former military.
Quiet.
Reliable.
Or so Roman had believed about everyone inside his walls until five minutes ago.
Roman handed him the phone.
“Find it.”
Tomas examined the image.
“Could be any industrial building.”
“Red stripe. Green mercury lamps. Bay number three.”
Tomas nodded.
“I’ll start with our properties.”
“No.”
Tomas looked up.
Roman spoke carefully.
“Start with properties we don’t own.”
Sadie understood immediately.
“So they expect you to look at your own warehouses.”
Roman glanced at her.
“Yes.”
Tomas did too.
Something unreadable passed through his expression.
Roman noticed.
He noticed everything now.
“Anything else?” Tomas asked.
Roman held his gaze.
“Find out who has been inside this house after midnight this week.”
“That’s broad.”
“Make it narrow.”
Tomas left.
Sadie looked at Roman.
“You don’t trust him.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Roman took his phone back.
“Tell me about Tuesday.”
Sadie sat.
Roman remained standing.
She stared at the floor.
“I was cleaning the west gallery around eleven.”
“You were scheduled until nine.”
“Mrs. Bell asked me to stay.”
The housekeeper.
Roman filed it away.
“What did you hear?”
“Two men arguing below the service stairs.”
“About?”
“Money.”
“What money?”
“They kept saying something about accounts being short.”
Roman leaned against the table.
“How short?”
“I heard eight million.”
Silence.
Roman did not move.
Eight million dollars was not petty theft.
It was war money.
Emergency money.
Money kept off ledgers most people never knew existed.
Only six men in his organization knew those reserves existed.
Sadie continued.
“One man said you would notice before the end of the month.”
“And the other?”
“He said you wouldn’t notice if the books matched.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“What else?”
“They mentioned shipments.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“Drugs?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
Sadie looked sick.
“Because one of them said, ‘People cost more when they’re scared.’”
Roman’s face changed.
Even Sadie saw it.
Human trafficking.
Roman had banned it when he took control.
No exceptions.
Anyone using his routes for that business knew the penalty.
Now someone had not only broken his rule.
They were operating inside his network.
Stealing his money.
Using his reputation.
Kidnapping civilians.
Breaking the arm of a maid.
Roman asked, “Did they see you?”
“No.”
“But someone knew you were there.”
Sadie nodded.
“I dropped a bottle.”
Roman waited.
“I ran upstairs. I thought I got away.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“Who found you?”
Sadie’s breath caught.
Roman saw the answer before she gave it.
“I didn’t know his name.”
“But?”
“He wore your ring.”
Roman looked at his own right hand.
Heavy gold.
Black onyx center.
V engraved into the side.
Senior captains received a similar ring after ten years.
Fifteen men currently had one.
Roman understood the message.
ASK HER ABOUT NUMBER FIFTEEN.
Not fifteen people.
Fifteen rings.
Fifteen possible traitors.
He walked toward the window.
Sadie followed with her eyes.
Roman had built his organization on loyalty.
Now loyalty itself had become camouflage.
“Describe him.”
“Tall.”
“That eliminates three.”
“Dark hair.”
“Five more.”
“Scar near his left ear.”
Roman turned.
Sadie saw recognition.
“You know him.”
Roman said nothing.
“Who?”
Before he answered, Dr. Halpern arrived.
Roman’s personal physician was sixty-three, thin, perpetually annoyed, and unimpressed by rich men.
He entered carrying a black case.
“What did you do now?”
“Not me.”
Halpern saw Sadie’s arm.
His expression changed.
“Jesus.”
Sadie instinctively hid it.
Halpern approached slowly.
“I need to look.”
She glanced at Roman.
Roman nodded.
“You’re safe.”
Halpern removed the tape.
Sadie gasped when the splint shifted.
Roman’s hands curled.
The bruises were worse beneath the cloth.
Purple.
Yellow.
Black.
Finger-shaped marks near her elbow.
Halpern looked at Roman.
“This wasn’t a fall.”
“I know.”
“Compound fracture?”
“No skin break.”
“Lucky.”
Sadie laughed once.
Bitter.
“Lucky.”
Halpern examined gently.
“You need imaging.”
“No hospital,” Sadie said.
Halpern raised an eyebrow.
Roman answered.
“Bring the portable unit.”
Halpern looked annoyed.
“Of course. Because apparently I run a mobile trauma center now.”
Roman ignored him.
Twenty minutes later, Sadie’s arm was properly immobilized.
Pain medication took the sharpest edge away.
She looked smaller afterward.
More exhausted.
Roman hated that too.
Halpern pulled him aside.
“Two fractures.”
Roman said nothing.
“One is clean. One isn’t.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means somebody hit her more than once.”
Roman’s expression hardened.
Halpern lowered his voice.
“And she has older bruising.”
Roman looked toward Sadie.
“How old?”
“Weeks.”
Roman slowly turned.
Sadie had heard.
She looked away.
Halpern packed his equipment.
“I’ll come back tonight.”
He left.
Roman remained silent until the doors closed.
Then he asked, “Weeks?”
Sadie stared at her cast.
“They were warnings.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“And you told nobody.”
“Who would I tell?”
“Me.”
She looked up.
“People like me don’t walk into rooms like yours and say your men are hurting us.”
Roman had no answer.
That hurt worse than accusation.
Because she was right.
Power created distance.
Distance created blind spots.
And monsters loved blind spots.
Roman pulled out a chair and sat across from her.
“No more blind spots.”
Sadie looked unconvinced.
He continued.
“You said scar near the left ear.”
“Yes.”
Roman knew the man.
Calvin Rusk.
Captain for seventeen years.
One of the first men Roman had promoted after taking control.
Rusk had eaten at his table.
Held Roman’s son at his baptism before the child died young from illness.
Buried Roman’s wife beside him years later.
Family, by every definition Roman had once trusted.
Sadie whispered, “What’s his name?”
Roman looked at her.
“Calvin Rusk.”
Her face drained.
“You know him well.”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
Roman answered quietly.
“Well enough that I would have trusted him with my life yesterday.”
Sadie swallowed.
“And today?”
Roman stood.
“Today I trust facts.”
His phone vibrated.
Tomas.
Roman answered.
“We found the building.”
“Where?”
“Old textile property near Pier Nine.”
Roman frowned.
“We don’t own it.”
“No.”
“Who does?”
A pause.
Roman heard Tomas breathe.
Then:
“Shell company registered to Calvin Rusk.”
Sadie stood.
Roman raised a hand.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“This isn’t a discussion.”
“My brother is there.”
“And that is exactly why you’re staying.”
She took a step closer.
“Mr. Vescari, they broke my arm because they thought I heard too much. They took Ben because they knew I wouldn’t talk. If you arrive without me, they may kill him.”
Roman considered it.
He hated that she might be right.
A knock sounded.
Clara entered again.
This time she carried an envelope.
“Someone left this at the front gate.”
Roman opened it.
Inside were fifteen photographs.
Fifteen men.
Every senior captain wearing a Vescari ring.
Each photograph had a number written on the back.
One through fifteen.
Roman turned to number fifteen.
There was no photograph.
Only a name.
Roman read it.
Then looked slowly across the room at Sadie.
May you like
Because number fifteen was not Calvin Rusk.
It was Tomas.
