Chapter 16 - The Night of Four Fires
The rejection of the Commission’s ultimatum ignited an all-out underworld war.
Within forty-eight hours, Don Salvatore unleashed his retaliation across Queens. He didn't send traditional hitmen to engage my soldiers directly; instead, he launched a coordinated campaign of terror designed to destroy my economic foundation and turn the citizens against me.
At 2:00 AM on Friday night, four major fires erupted simultaneously across the borough.
A legitimate textile warehouse in Flushing, an auto repair yard in Jamaica, a seafood distribution center on the docks, and a community rec center funded by my charitable foundation were all hit with military-grade incendiary explosives.
I stood on the roof of my Long Island City headquarters, watching four pillars of thick smoke and orange fire rise into the night sky.
Tony hurried onto the roof, his face covered in soot, breathing heavily.
"Boss! All four locations were hit with thermite charges!" Tony reported angrily. "Our security guards at the warehouse were caught off guard. Frankie took a bullet to his shoulder, but he’s stable."
"Any civilian casualties?" I asked, my jaws clenched so tight my teeth ached.
"No, thank God," Tony replied. "The rec center was empty. But the financial damage is huge—over eight million dollars in property gone in thirty minutes."
Bruno stood at the edge of the roof ledge, letting out low, distressed whines as he looked toward the burning buildings. He could smell the chemicals and smoke drifting across the city.
My phone rang. It was an unlisted satellite number.
I answered it. "Speak."
"Do you like the fireworks, Gabriel?" Salvatore’s raspy voice mocked over the speaker. "That was just night one. Every night you refuse my terms, four more of your properties burn. By next week, Queens will be nothing but piles of ash, and your people will starve."
"You’re burning empty buildings, Salvatore," I said, keeping my voice completely controlled. "Because you’re too cowardly to fight me face-to-face."
"I don't need to fight you face-to-face, boy!" Salvatore sneered. "I have fifty arsonists and mercenaries operating in your city right now. You don't know who they are, you don't know where they’re hiding, and your dog can't smell them all!"
"He doesn't need to smell them all," I replied. "He only needs to smell the man paying them."
"Enjoy the fire, Gabriel!" Salvatore laughed hysterically and hung up.
I lowered the phone and looked at Tony.
"Boss, what are we going to do?" Tony asked, his eyes filled with frustration. "We can't guard every building in Queens twenty-four hours a day."
"We don't need to guard every building," I said, walking toward the rooftop door. "Salvatore is using local arsonists who know the terrain. He hired mercenaries who operate out of an illegal underground gambling den in Brooklyn—the Black Diamond Club."
"How do you know that?" Tony asked, surprised.
I pulled out the handwritten note from 'A Friend' that had arrived from Chicago days ago. On the back of the scorched paper was a handwritten street address in Brooklyn.
May you like
"Our mysterious friend in Chicago is still giving us intelligence," I said. "Tony, assemble the heavy squad. We’re going to hit the Black Diamond Club tonight and cut off Salvatore’s firestarters at the root."
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