Chapter 3 - The South Gate
Arthur knew Gregory would betray him at 9:17 p.m.
He had known in theory for hours.
At 9:17, theory became footsteps.
Arthur stood in the darkened library of the Costello estate, looking through a narrow gap in the curtains as the south gate opened.
No alarm.
No raised voices.
No confusion.
The guards stationed there simply stepped aside.
Three black SUVs rolled through.
Arthur felt something colder than rage.
Betrayal was rarely dramatic when performed by professionals.
It looked like paperwork completed correctly.
Gregory entered the library two minutes later.
“Boss?”
Arthur stood near the bar, pouring scotch he had no intention of drinking.
“What?”
“We got a power problem on the south side.”
“Do we?”
“Security says transformer.”
Arthur lifted the glass.
“You should tell them to check it.”
Gregory watched him.
Arthur watched back.
For twelve years Gregory had eaten at his table, stood beside him at funerals, carried messages Arthur trusted too much to write down.
Clara had photographed him selling routes.
Arthur still wanted to be wrong.
That disgusted him.
“You hear from Clara?” Gregory asked.
Arthur took a sip.
“No.”
“Nothing?”
“She resigned.”
“Women get emotional.”
Arthur set the glass down.
Gregory smiled.
That was the sentence that killed the last doubt.
Arthur had insulted Clara viciously.
Even he would not reduce what she had done to emotion now.
The library doors opened.
Vincent Moroni walked in.
He wore no coat despite the rain.
Two men stood behind him.
Gregory moved to Vincent’s side.
Arthur looked at him.
“So that’s it.”
Gregory exhaled.
“Don’t make this personal.”
Arthur laughed.
Vincent smiled.
“Always liked that about you, Costello. Somebody can put a knife in your stomach and you still criticize the grip.”
Arthur looked toward Gregory.
“How much?”
Gregory’s face tightened.
“For what?”
“Twelve years.”
“It isn’t about money.”
“Then you sold yourself cheap.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“We want the archive.”
Arthur said nothing.
Vincent continued.
“Clara took access when she ran.”
“She didn’t run.”
Gregory snorted.
Arthur turned on him.
“She left.”
The distinction surprised everyone, including Arthur.
Vincent glanced around the library.
“We know you have a mirror key.”
Arthur did.
Clara had built redundancies.
The hardware key in her office unlocked only one layer.
The mirror key required Arthur’s biometrics.
Together, they could access one-third of the archive.
Vincent knew more than he should.
Arthur’s eyes moved to Gregory.
“Did you ever have an original thought?”
Gregory reached inside his jacket.
Arthur’s men appeared from the balcony.
Four rifles.
Vincent did not flinch.
Gregory did.
Arthur smiled faintly.
“You really thought Clara would leave me a file about a traitor and no plan?”
Gregory looked toward the south gate on instinct.
Arthur saw it.
“You sent crews away,” Arthur said. “But Clara controls payroll. You know what happens when she changes a shift?”
Gregory’s face went pale.
“She didn’t—”
“She scheduled replacements three months ago under disaster protocol.”
The side doors opened.
Mickey Torrano entered with six dock men.
Gregory swore.
Vincent looked irritated rather than afraid.
“Cute.”
Arthur’s smile vanished.
“Get out.”
Vincent raised an eyebrow.
“You think this ends because you found one leak?”
“No.”
Arthur stepped closer.
“I think it starts because I finally did.”
Vincent looked at Gregory.
Something passed between them.
Then Gregory moved.
Fast.
He pulled a pistol.
Arthur crossed the distance before the weapon cleared Gregory’s jacket.
His hand slammed Gregory’s wrist into the edge of the bar.
The gun fell.
Gregory swung with his other fist.
Arthur took the hit, drove his shoulder into Gregory’s chest, and sent both of them into the leather chairs.
Vincent’s men reached for weapons.
Mickey’s men raised theirs.
For one second the room balanced on stupidity.
Arthur got to his feet.
“Enough.”
The word cracked across the room.
He looked at Vincent.
“You came for an archive. You’re leaving with your life. Don’t confuse generosity with weakness.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
“You’re softer without her.”
Arthur looked at Clara’s empty doorway.
“No.”
He wiped blood from his lip.
“I was softer when I thought I didn’t need her.”
Vincent left.
His men followed.
Gregory remained on the floor.
Arthur looked down at him.
“Why?”
Gregory laughed bitterly.
“You want the honest answer?”
“Yes.”
“I got tired of being second to a woman with a notebook.”
Arthur stared.
Gregory continued.
“You trusted her more than me. More than anyone.”
“She earned it.”
“She controlled everything.”
“She worked.”
“She made me look stupid.”
Arthur leaned down.
“No, Gregory. You did that.”
Gregory’s face twisted.
Then he said the one thing Arthur did not expect.
“She knows about your father.”
Arthur stopped.
“What?”
Gregory smiled through blood.
“The archive. There’s a sealed section she never showed you.”
Arthur’s expression did not move.
Gregory enjoyed that.
“Your old man didn’t build the Costello empire alone. He built it on Clara’s family.”
Arthur grabbed his collar.
“What does that mean?”
“Ask her.”
Arthur’s grip tightened.
Mickey said quietly, “Boss.”
Arthur released Gregory.
He stepped back.
“Lock him downstairs. No one touches him.”
Gregory laughed.
“Clara really did train you.”
Arthur looked at him.
“Maybe.”
At 10:03, Arthur called Clara.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
On the third attempt, she picked up.
“What happened?”
He heard car noise behind her.
“Gregory is contained. Moroni left.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“Gregory’s pride.”
“Arthur.”
“No staff. No civilians.”
Her exhale was small but audible.
“Good.”
Arthur sat on the edge of Clara’s desk.
“He said something.”
Silence.
Arthur continued.
“He said you know something about my father.”
The silence changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Arthur closed his eyes.
“So it’s true.”
Clara spoke carefully.
“Some of it.”
“How much?”
“Enough that I did not want to tell you without proof.”
“I want the proof.”
“You will get it.”
“When?”
“When I decide you can see it without shooting the first man whose name you recognize.”
Arthur’s anger rose.
Then he remembered the text file.
She had spent years managing his reactions because his reactions had consequences.
He forced the anger down.
“Fine.”
Clara sounded surprised.
“Fine?”
“I said fine.”
“Who are you?”
“Still me.”
“Debatable.”
Arthur stared at the rain on the windows.
“Clara.”
“What?”
“I was wrong.”
She did not answer.
He continued.
“About Gregory. About the gala. About you.”
Still nothing.
He almost ruined it by saying more.
Instead he stopped.
Finally Clara said, “That doesn’t undo what you said.”
“I know.”
Arthur looked at her empty chair.
“I know that too.”
On the other end of the line, Clara closed her eyes.
Nora drove beside her, pretending not to listen.
Arthur said, “Wherever you are, don’t come back tonight.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
A pause.
“Arthur?”
“Yes?”
“Gregory wasn’t the highest name in the file.”
Arthur stood.
“Who was?”
May you like
Clara looked out at the highway.
“The police commissioner.”
