Chapter 6 - LOCKED IN A GILDED CAGE
Lorenzo didn’t drop his arms.
He pulled Vivienne tighter against his chest, shielding her from the flashing lights and driving rain.
“She needs an ambulance!” Lorenzo roared against the sirens. “Move!”
Federal agents advanced with rifles raised.
A tall woman in a beige trench coat stepped through the line of troopers.
Special Agent Sarah Vance.
She had spent four years building a RICO case against the Falcone syndicate.
“Step away from the vehicle, Falcone,” Vance ordered through a megaphone.
“She’s having a miscarriage, you idiot!” Lorenzo yelled, his voice carrying the ferocity of a wounded animal. “Call your medics or shoot me where I stand!”
Vance lowered the megaphone.
Her eyes flicked from Lorenzo’s desperate face to Vivienne’s limp, pale form.
She signaled with her hand.
“Team two, get the trauma kit! Clear the back of the command unit!”
Two tactical medics sprinted forward, pulling Vivienne from Lorenzo’s arms.
Lorenzo lunged after them, but three state troopers tackled him against the hood of an SUV.
Steel handcuffs snapped around his wrists.
“Lorenzo!” Vivienne cried out, consciousness flickering back for a terrifying second.
“I’m here!” Lorenzo shouted, struggling against the weight of three armed men. “Look at me, Viv! Don't look at them! Look at me!”
They loaded Vivienne into the back of an ambulance.
The doors slammed shut.
Sirens wailed as the vehicle tore out of the gravel lot, speeding toward Boston General.
Agent Vance stood over Lorenzo, who lay pinned against the cold metal hood.
“You’re done, Falcone,” Vance said quietly.
Lorenzo lifted his head, rain plastering his hair to his forehead.
“Check the glove compartment of my sedan,” he hissed.
Vance frowned.
“Why?”
“The black drive is in the console,” Lorenzo said. “Every bank account. Every shipping manifest. Every bribed judge in Massachusetts.”
Vance stared at him in disbelief.
“Why would you hand that over?”
“Because Silvio is going to kill her to bury it,” Lorenzo whispered, his voice trembling with sheer desperation. “Take the syndicate. Take my name. Take every dime I own. Just put ten armed marshals outside her hospital door.”
Vance held his gaze for five long seconds.
She signaled her troopers.
“Get him up. Search the sedan.”
Twenty minutes later, Lorenzo sat in the back of an interrogation room at the federal building in downtown Boston.
His hands were cuffed to an eyelet in the stainless steel table.
Agent Vance entered, carrying a manila folder.
She tossed it onto the table.
“The doctors stopped the bleeding,” Vance said.
Lorenzo slumped forward, the breath leaving him in a ragged gasp.
He buried his face in his cuffed hands.
“And the baby?” he choked out.
“Stable. Heartbeat is strong. She’s resting under federal guard in the maternal intensive care unit.”
Lorenzo exhaled, his entire body shuddering with relief.
Vance sat down opposite him.
“The files on that drive are legitimate,” she said, her voice grave. “They corroborate everything Vivienne’s father documented before he died.”
Lorenzo’s head snapped up.
“What did you say?”
“You thought Vivienne found those files by accident?” Vance smiled thinly. “Her father was our primary confidential informant for three years before his fatal heart attack.”
The room went dead silent.
“Arthur Vaughn was working with the FBI?” Lorenzo asked, stunned.
“He was trying to get his daughter out of your world,” Vance said. “He realized Silvio was poisoning the organization with fentanyl and human trafficking. Arthur tried to stop it. When he refused to back down, Silvio had his heart medication swapped.”
The air left Lorenzo’s lungs.
Arthur hadn't died of natural causes.
Silvio had murdered him.
And Lorenzo had forced Arthur’s grieving daughter into a political marriage to solidify his hold over Arthur’s docks.
“Vivienne knew?” Lorenzo whispered.
“She suspected,” Vance replied. “She spent three years quietly gathering the digital signatures to prove it. She didn't take that drive to ruin you, Falcone. She took it to avenge her father.”
The door to the interrogation room burst open.
A young agent rushed in, his face pale.
“Agent Vance, we have a code black at Boston General.”
Vance stood up instantly.
May you like
“Report.”
“A team of four men disguised as hospital maintenance bypassed the third-floor checkpoint,” the agent said, his voice shaking. “They killed two federal guards and cut the oxygen lines to the maternity ward.”
