Chapter 8
The progress bar on the laptop screen flashed green, signaling that the encryption had been successfully bypassed. The folder snapped open, flooding the bright screen with a new series of heavily redacted surveillance photographs and encrypted email transcripts.
"What is this, Rafe?" Nico asked, his voice low and dangerous as he studied the first photograph. It showed two men standing in the shadows of an underground parking garage, handing off a thick manila envelope.
"It looks like security footage from the downtown shipping terminal, Boss," Rafe said, his brow furrowing in confusion. "But this footage was supposed to be wiped two years ago during the federal audit."
"Elena must have intercepted the hard drives before the sweep," Nico deduced, his eyes scanning the accompanying email transcripts.
"Nico, whatever is in that folder, it has nothing to do with me!" Marcella cried out from the floor, desperately trying to distance herself from the new revelation. "I only hired the mechanic! I didn't know anything about a mole!"
"Shut your mouth," Nico snapped, never taking his eyes off the screen. "Read the transcripts, Rafe. Who was the recipient of the emails?"
Rafe clicked on the text file. His eyes rapidly scanned the paragraphs, his rosy complexion paling slightly as he processed the information. He swallowed hard, his American accent unusually hesitant.
"Boss... these are internal communications sent from our central server," Rafe read aloud, his voice dropping into a tense whisper. "They contain the exact logistical routes for our weapons shipments. Security rotations, guard counts, and delivery times. They were being sold to the FBI."
Nico’s blood ran cold. The syndicate had suffered a series of devastating federal raids nearly three years ago—raids that had cost them millions of dollars in lost cargo and landed several high-ranking lieutenants in federal prison. Nico had spent months trying to find the leak, eventually concluding that the Feds had planted a sophisticated listening device in their warehouses.
"Someone inside our inner circle was feeding them the coordinates," Nico said, his massive fists clenching tight. "Who signed the emails, Rafe?"
"The sender used a proxy server," Rafe explained, clicking through the metadata. "But Elena attached a digital tracer to the IP address before she hid the files on the USB. She tracked the physical location of the terminal where the emails were drafted."
"Where was the terminal?" Nico demanded.
Rafe clicked the final link. A map graphic popped up on the bright screen, pinpointing a specific location in the heart of the city.
"The executive suite of the Bellandi Corporate Tower," Rafe said, looking up at his boss. "Specifically, the office belonging to the chief financial officer."
The silence in the ballroom shifted from terrified to electric.
Nico slowly turned his head, his cold, slate-gray eyes scanning the crowd of wealthy, well-dressed guests huddled near the locked doors. He found the man he was looking for instantly.
May you like
Standing near the back of the crowd, sweating profusely in his tailored tuxedo, was Arthur Sterling, the syndicate’s longtime CFO and Marcella’s godfather.
"Arthur," Nico called out, his voice echoing like thunder across the marble floors. "Step forward."
