Chapter 8: What Victor Crane Did Next
Victor Crane was not a patient man by nature.
He had learned patience the way most men in his position learned it — through the expensive education of acting too fast and losing things he could not replace.
So when his men called to report that the target had walked into a state police barracks in upstate New York accompanied by two men in a vehicle registered to a shell company with Rossi family fingerprints all over it, Crane did not shout.
He sat down.
He poured two fingers of scotch.
He thought.
Then he called his lawyer.
Gabriel learned all of this from a contact inside the Pittsburgh operation — a man named Sal who had been feeding the Rossi family quiet information for three years in exchange for protection he never had to ask for out loud.
Sal called at 11:00 that night.
Gabriel was in a hotel room in Albany.
Hannah was in the adjoining room.
The documents were in a fireproof bag that Tommy was sleeping next to in a chair by the door.
"Crane is moving fast," Sal said.
"He's been on the phone all day.
He reached out to two of his county contacts and told them the situation.
Both of them are scared.
One of them is already talking to a private attorney."
"Good," Gabriel said.
"Scared men make mistakes."
"He also reached out to someone in your world," Sal said.
"A man named DeLuca.
Crane is offering money for information on your current location and what you're carrying."
Gabriel's expression did not change.
"DeLuca," he said.
"I know.
I'm sorry, Gabriel.
I thought you should hear it from me."
DeLuca was a mid-level associate who had worked the Chicago docks for the Rossi family for six years.
Not a lieutenant.
Not trusted with anything critical.
But present at enough meetings to know enough.
"How much is Crane offering?" Gabriel said.
"Two hundred thousand."
"Has DeLuca responded?"
"Not yet.
But he's been asking quiet questions about your travel schedule."
Gabriel thanked Sal and ended the call.
He knocked on the adjoining door.
Hannah opened it.
She was dressed, the cardigan replaced by a plain dark jacket.
She had clearly not been sleeping either.
"We have a problem," Gabriel said.
"Crane has reached out to someone inside my organization.
A man named DeLuca."
Hannah went very still.
"Does DeLuca know where we are?"
"No.
But he's asking questions.
We need to move tomorrow morning and we need to do it quietly."
"The recording," Hannah said.
"Has your man reached Ohio yet?"
"He arrives at your aunt's house in four hours."
She nodded.
Then she sat down on the edge of the bed and put her face in her hands — not crying, just pressing her palms against her eyes for a moment, as though she could hold everything still by force.
"Hannah."
She looked up.
"You've been carrying this alone for over a year," Gabriel said.
"You don't have to calculate every move by yourself anymore."
"I know," she said.
"That's what scares me.
I got very good at trusting no one." She paused.
"It's harder to stop than you'd think."
"I know exactly how hard it is," Gabriel said.
She looked at him.
Something passed between them — not dramatic, not announced.
Just two people recognizing the same damage in each other across a hotel room at midnight.
"Get some sleep," Gabriel said.
"Tomorrow is going to be long."
He went back to his room.
He lay on the bed without undressing and stared at the ceiling.
His phone buzzed at 2:00 a.m.
Tommy: *DeLuca just called Crane's number.
Three-minute conversation.*
Gabriel typed back: *Handle it quietly.
No permanent damage.
I want him able to talk.*
Tommy: *Understood.*
Gabriel set the phone on the nightstand.
He thought about a woman in the next room who had sewn documents into a duffel bag and written four words on the back of a medical bill and walked into the most dangerous household in upstate New York because it was the only place she could think of to be safe.
He thought about the fact that she had been right.
And then he thought about DeLuca, and the two hundred thousand dollars, and how easily a careful plan could come apart when someone decided the money was worth more than the loyalty.
May you like
He closed his eyes.
He did not sleep.
