Chapter 13 - The ConsultationWithin an hour, Roman and Marco sat across from each other in a dimly lit corner booth of a roadside diner twenty miles outside of town. The rain was beginning to spit against the greasy windowpane.
"Who is heading the federal task force?" Roman asked, stirring black coffee that tasted like burnt rubber.
"A rising star out of the D.C. office," Marco replied, sliding a printed dossier across the sticky laminate table. "Special Agent David Vance. No relation to Victor, thankfully. But he’s ambitious, relentless, and he’s made nailing The Architect his personal career crusade."
Roman opened the file. A photograph of a sharp-faced man in his late forties stared back at him.
"He doesn't have enough to tie Celeste to the Vanguard accounts," Roman analyzed, his mind working like clockwork. "The firewall she built was airtight."
"It was airtight," Marco corrected grimly. "Until someone on the inside leaked the encryption keys. Someone who knew how Celeste coded her financial shell structures."
Roman’s jaw tightened. "Who?"
"Victor Vance," Marco said flatly. "Old Victor didn't stay retired in Florida. He cut a deal with the feds six months ago. In exchange for immunity from his old racketeering charges, he handed them the master blueprint to find The Architect."
Roman sat back in the booth, staring at the scarred wooden paneling of the wall. For a long time, he said nothing. The silence stretched until Marco cleared his throat nervously.
"Boss? What's the play? Do we pack up and run? Canada? Europe?"
"No," Roman said softly, a dangerous, calculating light returning to his dark eyes. "You don't run from a wolf by hiding in the woods. You kill the wolf."
May you like
"You left the gun in Chicago, Roman. We don't have an army anymore. It's just you, me, and a couple of rusted outboards."
"I don't need an army," Roman replied, tossing a five-dollar bill onto the table and standing up. "I just need a phone, a clean burner line, and twenty-four hours."
