Chapter 8 - THE PACKING HOUSE
The old packing house smelled of dust, rust, and the river.
Anthony arrived at 11:40.
Laurel sat beside him in the rear car.
“You can still stay outside.”
She looked at him.
“Try that sentence again.”
Anthony almost smiled.
“Worth testing.”
“No.”
Marcia traveled in another vehicle.
Julian came with Samuel.
Nathan had already gone inside.
Nobody had seen Paul.
The building had three entrances.
Anthony used none of them.
His men opened an old loading passage beneath the north side.
Joseph expected Anthony to arrive like a boss.
Anthony entered like a thief.
That pleased him more than it should have.
Inside, voices carried through the empty warehouse.
Nathan.
Marcia's daughter Claire.
Alive.
Crying quietly.
Then another voice.
Paul.
Anthony stopped.
Laurel heard it too.
Paul sounded tired.
“Joseph, this ends tonight.”
A man laughed.
Older.
Thin.
Controlled.
“You have said that for thirty years.”
Joseph.
Anthony looked at Laurel.
She nodded.
They moved closer.
Through a gap in the wall, Anthony saw them.
Joseph Vescari sat at the center of an old wooden table.
Seventy-one.
Gray hair.
No resemblance to the monster Anthony imagined.
He looked ordinary.
That was unsettling.
Nathan stood near the wall.
Claire sat in a chair beside him.
Not bound.
Paul stood opposite Joseph.
No weapon visible.
Joseph smiled at his brother.
“You raised my son well.”
Nathan's jaw tightened.
Paul looked at him.
“He’s my son.”
Joseph laughed.
“Blood disagrees.”
Nathan answered.
“Blood doesn’t get a vote.”
Anthony saw something in Joseph’s face.
Pain.
Real or performed.
Hard to know.
Then Joseph looked toward the dark passage.
“Anthony.”
No point hiding.
Anthony stepped out.
Laurel beside him.
Marcia entered from the opposite side.
Julian followed.
For a moment, Joseph looked genuinely surprised.
“Julian.”
Julian stared.
“Still alive.”
“Disappointed?”
“Repeatedly.”
Joseph’s eyes moved to Laurel.
“You look like him.”
Laurel said nothing.
Anthony stepped forward.
“Claire walks out.”
Joseph looked at Marcia.
“She can.”
Claire stood.
Marcia rushed to her.
No one stopped them.
That was worse.
Anthony narrowed his eyes.
“You brought us here and let your leverage leave.”
Joseph smiled.
“Claire was never leverage.”
Marcia froze.
“What?”
“She was invitation.”
Paul cursed.
Joseph ignored him.
“I wanted everyone who lied about the old war in one room.”
Anthony looked around.
Dominic was dead.
Michael dead.
But enough survived.
“What for?”
Joseph leaned back.
“To learn who kills me.”
Nobody moved.
Anthony almost laughed.
“You arranged all this because you expect to die?”
“I arranged all this because one of you has already tried.”
Nathan looked at him.
“What?”
Joseph opened his jacket.
A dark bandage crossed his side.
“Three nights ago.”
Paul stared.
“Who?”
Joseph smiled.
“That is the useful question.”
Anthony understood.
Joseph had summoned every enemy.
Every relative.
Every old witness.
Not to negotiate.
To expose whoever moved first.
The same strategy Anthony used at the banquet.
That realization annoyed him.
Joseph saw it.
“You did it with raised hands.”
Anthony's face hardened.
“You know about the banquet.”
“I arranged Frederick’s messages.”
Marcia whispered, “You.”
Joseph nodded.
“I wanted to see whether Anthony would protect Laurel or protect tradition.”
Laurel stepped forward.
“You put Marcia against me.”
“No.”
Joseph looked toward Marcia.
“I gave frightened people information. They chose what to do with it.”
Marcia flinched.
That was true enough to hurt.
Anthony spoke.
“Helen.”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“With Nathan’s men.”
Laurel looked at Nathan.
He nodded.
Joseph continued.
“I never touched her.”
“Then why bring Laurel into this?”
Joseph looked at Julian.
“Because her father owes me.”
Julian laughed.
“I owe you?”
“You destroyed the Collector.”
“I exposed you.”
“You stole my routes. My allies. My name.”
“You used my name to start wars.”
Joseph shrugged.
“We both sinned.”
Anthony moved closer.
“Michael.”
The room changed.
Joseph looked at him.
Anthony repeated:
“Michael.”
Joseph’s face became unreadable.
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
“Did you order it?”
“No.”
“Did Dominic?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Joseph looked around the room.
“One of you.”
Silence.
Anthony felt Laurel beside him.
Samuel behind.
Marcia holding Claire.
Paul near Nathan.
Julian opposite Joseph.
Joseph smiled faintly.
“Michael was killed by someone who feared he would expose Dominic’s agreement with me.”
Anthony’s eyes moved from face to face.
“Who knew?”
“Seven people.”
“Names.”
“Dominic. Me. Samuel. Julian. Marcia. Paul.”
Anthony frowned.
“That’s six.”
Joseph looked directly at Anthony.
“The seventh was Michael’s wife.”
Anthony stopped.
Michael had never married.
Not publicly.
May you like
Joseph smiled.
“Your brother had a family you never knew existed.”
