Chapter 3 - The Number Gabriel Left Behind
By sunrise, twenty-three employees were gathered in the main hall.
Nobody was happy.
I didn't care.
“One of you contacted Vincent Russo.”
Silence.
I walked slowly between them.
“If you tell me now, you walk out alive and unemployed.”
Nobody spoke.
Marcus leaned toward me.
“We checked their phones.”
“And?”
“Nothing.”
Maria stood upstairs with Sofia.
I had doubled security around them.
That decision wasn't popular.
Especially with Anthony Moretti, one of my senior captains.
“You're protecting a maid now?”
I looked at him.
“Problem?”
“No.”
“Then don't make your face look like one.”
He lowered his eyes.
Later, Maria found me studying Gabriel's key.
“317,” she said.
“I know.”
“Could be a locker.”
“Bank?”
“Gabriel hated banks.”
“Storage unit?”
She shook her head.
Then Sofia walked into the room carrying crayons.
“Mommy, can I have pancakes?”
“In a minute.”
Sofia noticed the key.
“That's Daddy's.”
Maria froze.
“You remember this?”
Sofia nodded.
“He had another one.”
Maria crouched.
“What do you mean?”
“In the picture box.”
“What picture box?”
“At Grandma's.”
Maria stared at me.
Forty minutes later, we were driving toward Queens.
Marcus came with us.
Maria's mother lived in a small apartment above a laundromat.
She nearly slammed the door when she saw me.
“No.”
“Mamá—”
“No mafia men in my house.”
I raised my hands.
“Fair rule.”
Maria pushed past her.
“We need Gabriel's photographs.”
Twenty minutes later, Sofia found an old wooden box.
Inside were family pictures, hospital bracelets, birthday cards—
and a photograph of Gabriel standing beside a row of storage lockers.
On the back he'd written:
317. Where Daniel keeps what he can't afford to lose.
I read it twice.
Maria whispered, “What does that mean?”
Then I remembered.
A warehouse in Brooklyn.
Years ago, I'd created private storage rooms for sensitive company records.
Locker 317 had belonged to—
“Vincent.”
Maria went pale.
We reached the warehouse after dark.
Locker 317 was still there.
The brass key turned.
Inside sat a single metal case.
Maria's hands trembled.
“Gabriel.”
I opened it.
Ledgers.
Photographs.
Bank transfers.
Recorded conversations on an old digital recorder.
Enough evidence to prove Vincent had stolen from me.
But there was something else.
A sealed envelope.
FOR DANIEL HALE.
I opened it.
Gabriel's handwriting filled two pages.
Daniel,
If you're reading this, Vincent probably succeeded in making you believe I betrayed you.
I didn't.
Vincent is moving money through your companies, but the money isn't the worst part.
He's selling information about your men.
Names. Homes. Families.
And he's planning something against you.
I stopped reading.
Maria whispered, “Keep going.”
The final line was worse.
Someone inside your family is helping him.
A sound came from outside.
Marcus immediately killed the warehouse lights.
“Someone's here.”
Headlights appeared beneath the loading door.
Maria grabbed my arm.
“Daniel?”
“Behind me.”
Three vehicles stopped outside.
Then my phone rang.
Vincent again.
“You found Gabriel's box.”
I said nothing.
“Smart man,” Vincent continued. “Your accountant.”
“You killed him.”
“No.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What?”
“I didn't kill Gabriel.”
Maria heard him.
Her face drained.
Vincent laughed softly.
“Ask your brother.”
The call ended.
Maria looked at me.
“You have a brother?”
I stared at the phone.
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
I didn't answer immediately.
Because Anthony Moretti wasn't my only senior captain.
My younger brother, Michael Hale, controlled half my legitimate companies.
May you like
And Gabriel had died after leaving a meeting at Michael's office.
---
