Chapter 5 - The Council in Greenwich
At 9:00 AM the following morning, the grand neoclassical estate of Don Vittorio Romano in Greenwich, Connecticut, was bathed in the cold, pale sunlight of early winter.
Inside the two-story marble salon, sixty-five-year-old Vittorio Romano sat at the head of a thirty-foot mahogany table, surrounded by the eight senior caporegimes who controlled the West Side shipping lanes.
Beside him sat Vivienne Romano, dressed in an immaculate black silk mourning dress, holding a lace handkerchief, playing the role of the heartbroken fiancée for the assembled syndicate leaders.
"My daughter has suffered a terrible tragedy," Vittorio was saying, his deep gravelly voice filled with manufactured sorrow. "Adrian Moretti’s beloved companion wandered into the woods during the storm. Adrian is emotionally compromised, unable to focus on the upcoming Red Hook container tender. House Romano is prepared to assume interim operational management of the deep-water berths to ensure stability."
The massive, carved mahogany double doors of the salon were blown off their hinges by a concussive explosive breach.
The two private security guards standing outside were thrown onto the floorboards as sixteen operators from the Moretti tactical division swept into the room, suppressed carbines raised at the high ready.
Every caporegime at the table jumped to their feet in sheer, paralyzed terror.
Adrian Moretti strode into the salon.
He wore an impeccably tailored charcoal three-piece suit beneath a heavy black wool overcoat, his presence commanding immediate, breathless silence across the entire hall.
Trotting proudly at his left side, wearing his restored leather collar with the gleaming silver star, was Bruno.
The massive black mastiff walked with steady, unyielding power, his dark eyes fixed onto Vivienne with an intelligent, chilling calm.
Behind Adrian walked Clara Lin, holding three-year-old Lily by the hand, followed by four armed federal marshals escorting Marco Romano and Dr. Arthur Cole in heavy steel transport chains.
Vivienne froze. Her crystal water goblet slipped from her fingers, shattering against the marble table in a violent spray of glass and water.
"Adrian...?" Vivienne choked out, her face draining of every single drop of color until she looked like a corpse in a black dress. "Bruno...?"
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Adrian stopped at the foot of the mahogany table, resting his hand gently on Bruno's massive head.
"My dog didn't wander off to die in the woods, Vivienne," Adrian said, his voice dropping into a register of sub-zero ice. "My dog came home to watch your empire burn."
