Chapter 9: The Trojan Horse
Russo didn't have an army, but he had contacts. Mercenaries. Professionals. Men who hated the Vittorios as much as Max now did.
The plan was insane. The Vittorio Citadel was holding a gala in two days. A charity event for the city. All the high-ranking bosses would be there. The security was tight, but the blueprints showed a flaw. The catering delivery entrance.
Max was to drive a delivery van—loaded with C4—into the loading dock. The mercenaries would use the distraction to infiltrate the server room and wipe the Syndicate's financial records, effectively bankrupting them, before the bomb went off.
"You realize," Russo said as he handed Max a fake ID and a catering uniform, "that the bomb is on a timer. You have three minutes to park, arm it, and get out."
"I can do it in two," Max said. He felt cold inside. The fear was gone, replaced by a grim determination.
The night of the gala arrived. Max sat in the white van, the suspension low from the weight of the explosives hidden under crates of champagne.
He pulled up to the checkpoint. A guard with an earpiece checked his clipboard.
"You're late," the guard grumbled.
"Traffic in the Rust Belt, boss," Max said, keeping his voice light.
The guard waved him through.
Max drove into the belly of the beast. The loading dock was bustling. He parked the van in the designated bay, right next to a structural pillar.
He set the timer. 3:00... 2:59...
He hopped out, carrying a crate of champagne as cover. He walked toward the service elevator.
"Hey! You!"
Max turned. It was a shift manager. "Where are you taking that? The kitchen is that way."
"VIP request," Max lied smoothly. "Top floor."
"Badge?"
Max patted his pockets. "Left it in the van. One sec."
He turned back to the van. He needed to run. He needed to get to the exit.
But as he turned, he saw him.
Standing on the mezzanine overlooking the loading dock, smoking a cigar, was a man Max recognized from the dossier. Don Vittorio.
But standing next to him, alive, well, and wearing a tailored suit... was Kaelen.