Chapter 3 - The Man Alejandro Called Uncle
Nobody inside the bunker breathed.
Emma held tightly to her mother’s hand.
Alejandro stared at the intercom.
Judge Anthony Bellini had been part of his life for as long as he could remember.
Bellini had taught Alejandro to play chess.
Had attended every birthday.
Had stood beside Alejandro’s father at funerals, weddings, baptisms and trials.
When Alejandro was twelve and broke his arm falling from a horse, Bellini carried him to the car.
When Alejandro’s mother died, Bellini sat beside him through the entire funeral.
Family could betray you.
Alejandro had always known that.
But Bellini had somehow existed in a category beyond suspicion.
“Alejandro,” Bellini said.
Rafael looked at him.
“Could be a trap.”
“It is.”
“Then why is he admitting it?”
“That’s what worries me.”
Alejandro pressed the intercom.
“Why should I open the door?”
Bellini answered calmly.
“Because Marco no longer takes my orders.”
Rafael muttered a curse.
“And because,” Bellini continued, “he has your son.”
Everything inside Alejandro stopped.
Maria looked at him.
Emma whispered, “You have a little boy?”
Alejandro didn’t answer.
His son, Luca, was six.
He was supposed to be staying with Alejandro’s sister outside the city.
A location known only to four people.
One of them was Bellini.
Alejandro pressed the button.
“If you’re lying—”
“I wish I were.”
“Proof.”
Silence.
Then something clicked through the intercom system.
A recorded voice.
A child.
“Dad?”
Alejandro’s eyes closed.
Luca.
“Dad, Uncle Anthony says you’re coming. I’m okay. Don’t worry.”
The recording ended.
Emma looked up at Alejandro.
He had turned pale again, but this time the poison had nothing to do with it.
Maria saw his fingers shaking.
“Mr. Moretti?”
He ignored her.
“Open the door,” Bellini said. “Or Marco will kill us both and take the boy.”
Alejandro looked at Rafael.
Rafael shook his head.
“Could be Marco standing behind him.”
“It could.”
“So?”
Alejandro entered a code.
Maria stared at him.
“You’re opening it?”
“He has my son.”
The locks disengaged.
Rafael positioned himself beside the door.
Maria pulled Emma behind a concrete support column.
Alejandro opened it.
Anthony Bellini stood alone.
Seventy years old.
Gray hair perfectly combed.
Expensive overcoat.
Blood on his collar.
No weapon in his hands.
Alejandro grabbed him and slammed him into the wall.
“Where is Luca?”
Bellini didn’t resist.
“Safe for the next forty minutes.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“He’s at St. Catherine’s.”
Alejandro tightened his grip.
“The abandoned hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Who has him?”
“Marco.”
“You just said Marco no longer takes your orders.”
“He doesn’t.”
Alejandro hit him.
Bellini fell against the wall.
Emma gasped.
Maria covered her daughter’s eyes.
Alejandro crouched beside Bellini.
“You ordered my death.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Bellini wiped blood from his lip.
“Because I thought killing you would save your son.”
Alejandro almost struck him again.
Bellini lifted one hand.
“Listen first.”
“You have thirty seconds.”
“Your father made an agreement thirty-one years ago.”
“With who?”
“A coalition. Politicians. businessmen. law enforcement. organized crime. People who understood that open wars were bad for everyone.”
Alejandro’s expression didn’t change.
“Keep talking.”
“They helped your father build his power. In return, the Moretti family maintained certain agreements.”
“What agreements?”
“Money. Influence. Silence.”
Rafael leaned closer.
Bellini continued.
“When you started dismantling operations, they panicked.”
“Who?”
“We called ourselves the Council.”
Alejandro laughed without humor.
“Of course you did.”
“The name doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to men who like pretending crimes become respectable when committed in conference rooms.”
Bellini lowered his eyes.
Alejandro grabbed his coat.
“My brother.”
Bellini looked up.
“What?”
“Did you kill Matteo?”
Bellini’s silence answered first.
Alejandro’s face changed.
Emma couldn’t see his eyes because Maria was still shielding her face.
But Rafael saw them.
And Rafael stepped closer.
Bellini whispered, “Matteo discovered the Council.”
Alejandro released him as if he’d been burned.
“You killed my brother.”
“I authorized an operation.”
“He was twenty-nine.”
“I know.”
“He had a wife.”
“I know.”
“He had a daughter on the way.”
“I know.”
Alejandro punched the wall beside Bellini’s head.
Concrete cracked beneath his knuckles.
“You stood at his funeral.”
Bellini’s voice broke.
“I loved him.”
Alejandro stared at him.
“You don’t get to use that word.”
Bellini nodded slowly.
“No. I suppose I don’t.”
Maria lowered her hand from Emma’s face.
Emma looked at Bellini.
“Why did you hurt his brother?”
Bellini stared at the little girl.
No one had ever asked him that question so simply.
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Emma continued.
“Was he mean?”
“No.”
“Did he hurt somebody?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Bellini looked suddenly older.
“Because I was a coward.”
Emma nodded as though that answer made sense.
Adults often complicated things.
Children rarely did.
Alejandro checked his watch.
“You said forty minutes.”
“Marco contacted me twenty minutes ago. He knows you survived. He knows Emma saw enough to become a witness.”
Maria pulled Emma closer.
Bellini continued.
“He wants the camera recording.”
“He can have it.”
Rafael looked at Alejandro.
Alejandro didn’t look away from Bellini.
“I’ll trade every copy for Luca and Emma’s safety.”
Bellini shook his head.
“You don’t understand Marco anymore.”
“I understand him perfectly.”
“No. Marco has spent years waiting for this. He doesn’t want evidence. He wants control.”
“Then why Luca?”
“To make you surrender.”
“Why Emma?”
Bellini looked toward the girl.
“Because she embarrassed him.”
Alejandro’s expression darkened.
“A four-year-old embarrassed him?”
“She survived something he had spent months planning. She saved the man he intended to kill. And now twenty armed men know it.”
Bellini paused.
“Men like Marco cannot tolerate symbols.”
Emma whispered, “What’s a symbol?”
Maria kissed her hair.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
Bellini looked at Alejandro.
“But she has become one.”
“For what?”
“That he can be beaten.”
The bunker fell silent.
Emma had no idea what that meant.
Alejandro did.
Organizations built on fear could survive bullets.
They could survive arrests.
They could survive financial losses.
What they struggled to survive was humiliation.
Marco had tried to kill Alejandro inside the most secure room in the Moretti mansion.
A four-year-old maid’s daughter had walked upstairs and undone it.
If that story spread, Marco would become a joke before he became a leader.
And dangerous men feared ridicule almost as much as death.
Alejandro stood.
“We get Luca.”
Rafael looked at his wound.
“With what army?”
“No army.”
“You’re poisoned.”
“You’re shot.”
Rafael shrugged.
“So we’re both having a bad evening.”
Maria stepped forward.
“Emma and I are leaving.”
Alejandro turned toward her.
“There’s a safe exit behind this bunker. Rafael will arrange a car.”
“No.”
Everyone looked at Emma.
Maria frowned.
“Emma.”
“He needs help.”
“He has people.”
“Bad people.”
Maria crouched.
“Sweetheart, this is not our fight.”
Emma looked toward Alejandro.
“His little boy is scared.”
Maria’s face tightened.
Emma continued softly.
“I would want him to help you.”
Alejandro turned away.
That sentence landed harder than any threat Marco could have made.
He knelt in front of Emma.
“Your mother is right.”
Emma looked surprised.
Alejandro continued.
“You saved my life. That was more than anyone had the right to ask from you.”
“But Luca—”
“I’m going to get him.”
“Promise?”
Alejandro hesitated.
Promises were dangerous.
He had learned that as a child.
His father promised to come home.
His brother promised they’d grow old together.
His wife promised she wasn’t afraid.
All three promises had been broken.
But Emma waited.
So Alejandro held out his little finger.
Emma stared at it.
“A pinky promise?”
“I’ve been told those are legally binding.”
She wrapped her tiny finger around his.
“Bring him back.”
“I will.”
A monitor suddenly beeped.
Rafael turned.
The bunker’s exterior camera had activated.
Someone was inside the service tunnel.
Not one person.
Six.
Marco’s men.
Bellini’s eyes widened.
“How did they find us?”
Alejandro looked at him.
“You led them.”
“No.”
“You came straight here.”
“I was careful.”
Rafael checked the feed.
One of the men carried a handheld locator.
His expression changed.
“They’re not following Bellini.”
He turned toward Emma.
“They’re tracking something.”
Maria immediately searched Emma’s coat.
Nothing.
Alejandro checked the black bear keychain he had given her.
Clean.
Then Emma remembered.
“My backpack.”
“What backpack?” Rafael asked.
“The pink one.”
Maria stared at her daughter.
“Where is it?”
“Upstairs.”
Emma touched the small pocket of her dress.
“But Mommy put the phone thing in here.”
Maria froze.
The emergency locator.
A tiny GPS tag she had placed in Emma’s clothing months earlier because the mansion was enormous and she feared losing her.
Maria pulled it out.
The light flashed.
Rafael’s face fell.
“They hacked the tracker.”
The steel tunnel door shook.
Once.
Twice.
Bellini stared at Alejandro.
“They know exactly where she is.”
The lights went red.
A warning announced that the outer lock had been breached.
Alejandro lifted his weapon.
Rafael did the same.
Maria grabbed Emma.
And from the other side of the door came Marco’s amplified voice.
“Send out the little girl, Alejandro.”
Emma buried her face against her mother.
May you like
Marco continued.
“And I’ll send you your son.”
