Chapter 12 - THE MIDNIGHT TRIBUNAL
The Union League Club on Jackson Boulevard was the oldest private gentlemen's club in the Midwest.
Beneath its oak-paneled dining rooms and leather libraries lay the Sub-Basement Council Chamber.
For eighty years, the Chicago Commission had settled gang wars, ratified multi-million-dollar treaties, and pronounced death sentences in this windowless room.
At 7:45 on Monday morning, twenty-four men sat around the immense horseshoe-shaped mahogany table.
The Capos of the five Midwest syndicates.
Elder statesmen of the underworld with gray hair, gold signet rings, and cold, calculating eyes.
At the center of the table sat Don Carmine Falcone, the seventy-eight-year-old chairman of the Commission.
Beside him sat Katarina Moretti.
She wore a dark mourning dress of heavy silk, her pearls gleaming under the brass chandelier.
Her face was composed, elegant, and entirely pitiless.
The double doors of the chamber opened with a muffled thud.
The room fell into absolute, suffocating silence.
Dante Moretti walked down the center aisle.
He had showered and changed into a clean, bespoke charcoal three-piece suit.
His hair was combed back, but the dark cut along his cheekbone remained visible.
Beside him walked Isabella Rossi.
She wore a tailored black wool coat over a simple cream silk shirt.
Her dark hair was pinned neatly behind her neck.
She looked like a queen inspecting a conquered court.
Behind them, Marco and Frankie dragged Carlo Moretti into the light.
Carlo's arm was in a makeshift sling.
His face was bruised purple, his clothes caked with dried mud and blood.
He was thrown onto his knees on the Persian rug in the center of the horseshoe table.
Katarina’s teacup clicked against its porcelain saucer.
Her eyes flickered with sudden, hidden panic.
Don Carmine leaned forward, resting his liver-spotted hands on the table.
"Dante," Don Carmine rasped, his voice ancient and heavy.
"Your cousin told us you were running."
"He told us you abandoned your seat and fled the state with the family trust."
"My cousin is a thief, a liar, and a patricide," Dante said.
His voice rang off the oak paneling with terrifying clarity.
Murmurs rippled through the seated bosses.
Katarina stood up from her chair, her voice sharp as glass:
"Dante! How dare you bring such slander to this table!"
"Silence, Katarina," Don Carmine commanded without raising his voice.
He looked at Dante.
"Patricide is a heavy word, boy."
"Do you have proof that Paulo was murdered?"
Dante turned to Isabella.
"Step forward, Miss Rossi."
Isabella stepped to the center of the table.
She placed three items on the green felt before Don Carmine.
First: a digital audio recorder recovered from Carlo's phone.
Second: a signed lab toxicology report bearing the seal of Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
Third: the cracked Star of Palermo.
"Thallium acetate," Isabella said clearly.
Every boss leaned in to listen.
"Administered in small doses over six months."
"Purchased by Carlo Moretti through a shell corporation in Gary."
She pressed play on the audio recorder.
Carlo’s own frantic voice boomed through the chamber speakers:
"The old man is coughing blood already... Just make sure Viktor Vance has the contracts ready for the harbor transfer..."
The room went dead quiet.
The teacup in Katarina Moretti's hand slipped.
It shattered against the mahogany floor, splashing dark tea across her silk shoes.
Don Carmine looked down at Carlo kneeling on the floor.
"Is this your voice, Carlo?" Don Carmine asked.
Carlo wept, burying his face in his hands.
"He was going to give everything to Dante!" Carlo sobbed.
"He was going to turn our family into a charity foundation!"
"He was soft! He had to go!"
Don Carmine slowly shook his head with profound disgust.
"A dog that bites the hand that feeds it," Don Carmine murmured.
He looked around the table at the twenty-four bosses.
"The verdict is unanimous."
"The sentence is exile to the federal penitentiary in Florence, Colorado."
"We deliver him to the U.S. Attorney with a complete file on his racketeering."
"He will never see sunlight again."
Two armed guards stepped forward and hauled Carlo away by his collar.
His screams echoed down the hallway until the heavy doors slammed shut.
Don Carmine looked at the cracked sapphire on the table.
Then he looked at Isabella.
"And what of the necklace, Miss Rossi?" Don Carmine asked.
"Sophia claimed you stole it from the vanity."
Isabella looked across the table at Katarina Moretti.
Katarina stood trembling, her face stripped of all color.
May you like
"Ask his mother," Isabella said softly.
"She is the one who handed it to him."
