The Voice Behind the Empire

Victor gave them the location of a storage facility in Newark where Marcus's couriers exchanged physical documents.

Damon wanted to raid it immediately.

Rocco objected.

“Too obvious.”

“You have a better idea?”

“Yes. Watch it.”

They did for twelve hours.

At one in the morning, a black motorcycle arrived. The rider entered with a keycard and left seven minutes later carrying a document case.

Rocco saw the license plate and went rigid.

Damon noticed. “Who is it?”

“Nobody.”

Ivy turned in the surveillance van. “You are a terrible liar for a professional criminal.”

Rocco glared at her.

Damon's voice sharpened. “Name.”

Rocco looked at the screen.

“Leo Salerno.”

“Your cousin?”

“My sister's son.”

Ivy blinked. Rocco had never mentioned a sister.

Damon leaned back slowly.

“How long?”

“I didn't know.”

“How long have you known Leo was connected to Marcus?”

Rocco's silence was answer enough.

Damon's expression changed.

“Get out of the van.”

“Damon—”

“Now.”

They stood in the cold behind an abandoned warehouse while rain turned the pavement black.

Rocco faced Damon without reaching for his weapon.

“I found out six weeks ago.”

“You lied to me for six weeks.”

“I was trying to pull him out.”

“While my money disappeared?”

“I didn't know the Widow was involved.”

“While Preston was compromised? While Ivy was targeted?”

Rocco's jaw clenched. “I thought Leo was running packages. That's all.”

Damon shoved him against the van.

Ivy stepped between them before she could think better of it.

“Stop.”

Both men looked at her.

“This is useful information,” she said. “Don't turn it into a funeral because you're angry.”

Damon's eyes were furious.

“He betrayed me.”

“Yes. And if you break his jaw, Marcus still has the documents.”

Rocco gave Ivy a grateful look.

“Don't,” she told him. “I'm angry with you too.”

They followed Leo to a twenty-four-hour diner near the river.

Rocco went in alone.

Through the van window, Ivy watched uncle and nephew argue in a booth beneath fluorescent lights.

Ten minutes later, Leo ran.

Rocco caught him in the parking lot.

Damon and Ivy reached them as Rocco pinned the younger man against a car.

“You stupid kid,” Rocco said. “Do you know who you're working for?”

Leo spat blood from a bitten lip. “Someone who kept Mom alive.”

Rocco froze.

“What?”

“Her surgery. Two years ago. You thought insurance covered it?”

Rocco's face changed.

Leo laughed bitterly. “Marcus paid. Then he told me what I owed.”

Damon asked, “What are you carrying?”

Leo looked at him with fear.

“Death warrants.”

He opened the case.

Inside were copies of old payment authorizations signed by Thomas Cole. Each corresponded to a name.

Judges. Union officials. Port managers. Two police commanders.

And Elias Marlowe.

Ivy's hands went cold.

Beside her father's name was a payment marked CLEANUP — MARSEILLE.

Damon read it and looked sick.

“My father ordered this.”

Leo shook his head.

“Marcus says so. But look at the authorization code.”

Ivy bent closer.

The code included a French phrase.

Elle ferme la porte avant minuit.

She whispered, “That's wrong.”

Damon looked at her.

“What?”

“My father's system depended on contextual grammar. This phrase is feminine because ‘door’ is feminine in French, but the code line in his letter says the subject must switch gender when the order is lethal.”

Rocco frowned. “Meaning?”

“This authorization is forged.”

Damon stared at the page.

“So Thomas didn't order Elias killed.”

“Not with this document.”

Leo looked terrified.

“Marcus built his whole story around those records.”

Ivy shook her head.

“No. He built everyone else's story around them.”

Rocco loosened his grip on Leo.

Damon said, “Who did Marcus want you to deliver these to?”

Leo hesitated.

Then he gave them a name that surprised all three.

“Celia Voss.”

Rocco sat alone in the sedan after Leo was moved to a secure location. Ivy found him there with his forehead resting against the steering wheel.

“You can tell me to go away,” she said.

“Go away.”

She opened the passenger door and sat anyway.

Rocco looked at her. “You are terrible at following instructions.”

“So I have been told.”

He rubbed his face. “Elena raised Leo after his father vanished. I paid for school, rent, whatever they needed. I thought money meant I was taking care of them.”

“Damon probably thought the same about half this city.”

“That supposed to help?”

“No.”

Rocco stared through the windshield.

“Marcus found the gap. Surgery. Fear. Pride. He made Leo believe accepting help from me would make his mother weak.”

Ivy touched the forged death authorization in her coat pocket.

“People like Marcus don't create every wound. They inventory them.”

Rocco glanced at her.

“You should put that on a wall.”

“I prefer walls without advice.”

He finally smiled.

Then his phone rang. Elena's medical records had been accessed three times in the past month from a shell clinic connected to Marcus.