Chapter 6 - The Man Who Sold His LoyaltyI had ordered men to search half of Chicago within twenty minutes.
Traffic cameras were checked. License plates were traced. Every business connected to Carlo's known associates was placed under surveillance.
But the man had planned this carefully.
The guards at the safehouse were unconscious, the security cameras had been disabled, and the surveillance system had been remotely erased.
Somebody had provided Carlo with the exact layout of the building.
Somebody had known which rooms Isabel and Lily occupied.
Somebody had opened the door for him.
I stood in the security room at Vescari Tower, studying the list of people with access to the property.
Vincent approached from behind.
“There's something you need to see.”
He placed a tablet on the desk.
The screen displayed footage from a private garage beneath my downtown office. A man in a dark coat entered the building at 2:13 a.m., carrying a briefcase.
He removed his hat.
I recognized him immediately.
Anthony Rinaldi.
My personal accountant.
The man responsible for managing the legitimate businesses that financed my public investments. He had worked for my family since before Marco was born.
I watched the footage again.
Anthony approached a black sedan. Carlo stepped out, took the briefcase, and handed him an envelope.
“How much?” I asked.
“Three hundred thousand dollars in cash. There were also transfers to an account in the Cayman Islands.”
I looked at Vincent.
“Find him.”
We located Anthony at his home forty minutes later.
He tried to escape through the garage.
He didn't get far.
Vincent brought him into my office with his hands secured behind his back. His expensive suit was rumpled, and sweat glistened across his forehead.
He had the expression of a man who had spent hours convincing himself that he could still talk his way out of an inevitable ending.
“Dominic,” he began, “I can explain.”
“Good. Start with the money.”
Anthony swallowed.
“Carlo said it was a temporary arrangement.”
“Three hundred thousand dollars is a rather expensive definition of temporary.”
“He threatened my family.”
I leaned against my desk.
“Then why did you accept money from him?”
Anthony's eyes shifted toward the window.
“I didn't have a choice.”
“Everyone has a choice, Anthony. Some simply dislike the price.”
He flinched.
Vincent placed the garage footage in front of him.
Anthony stared at the screen.
“How long?” I asked.
“Six months.”
“And the safehouse?”
He said nothing.
Vincent stepped closer.
Anthony finally broke.
“Carlo had the guards bribed. He told me Isabel had stolen company property and that you wanted her brought in alive.”
I didn't move.
“And Lily?”
“I didn't know he intended to take the girl.”
“Did you tell him where they were?”
Anthony closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
I felt no satisfaction in hearing it.
Only disgust.
“You sold the location of a sick woman and a six-year-old child to a man you knew had ordered multiple murders.”
“He promised nobody would get hurt.”
I stared at him.
“Do you believe your own lies?”
Anthony's shoulders collapsed.
Then he whispered something that made Vincent stop moving.
“Carlo has a meeting tonight. He told me the girl is the key to the final recording.”
“What recording?”
Anthony shook his head.
“I don't know.”
I grabbed his collar.
“Then what exactly have you been paid to do?”
“Find a woman named Nadia.”
The name seemed to echo through the room.
Vincent looked at me.
“Who's Nadia?”
I released Anthony.
“Elena's last known contact,” I said.
Anthony nodded frantically.
“Carlo believes she survived. He says she has the original recording, the one that names everyone involved in the operation.”
I returned to the desk and opened the blue ledger.
Several pages contained repeated references to a charity called the Children's Harbor Foundation. Each payment had been authorized by the same three companies. One of those companies belonged to a former police commissioner.
Another belonged to a city councilman.
The third belonged to Carlo Bellandi.
At the bottom of the final page, Marco had written a note.
NADIA KNOWS WHERE THE CHILDREN WENT.
I looked at Vincent.
“Get every photograph of Nadia you can find. Every address. Every alias.”
“And Anthony?”
I glanced at the frightened accountant.
“Keep him alive. He's going to testify.”
Anthony looked up sharply.
“Testify? Against Carlo?”
“Against everyone.”
He began crying.
I walked away.
I had spent eleven years believing justice meant finding the man who killed my brother and making him suffer.
Now I understood that Carlo's greatest weapon had never been a gun.
It had been the belief that everybody had a price.
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And somewhere in Chicago, he was holding a little girl who believed a person should never take anything they couldn't repay.
I intended to show him what happened when he tried to buy something that had no price.
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