Chapter 13 - The Interrogation in the Vault
The basement vault of the Morty estate was cold, reinforced with four inches of solid steel. Bound to a heavy iron chair under the glare of industrial halogen lights, the New York operative spat a mouthful of blood onto the concrete floor.
Julian stood motionless beside the chair, hands clasped behind his back, his expression carved from absolute ice. Sarah stood a few feet away, her arms crossed, watching with a clinical detachment that terrified the captive far more than Julian's physical presence.
"Who sent you?" Julian asked, his voice a low, gravelly hum. "Does the New York council think a petty schoolyard kidnapping will bring me to my knees?"
"Go to hell, Morty," the operative wheezed, laughing weakly. "You think you rule the underworld because you bought a few judges? The syndicate in New York owns half the federal judiciary. When they come for you, your new little pets won't even have time to scream."
Sarah stepped forward. She didn't raise her voice. She simply pulled up her tablet and placed it on the small steel table directly in front of the captive.
"Your name is Marcus Vance, formerly of the NYPD internal affairs division, dishonorably discharged in 2022 for taking bribes from the Genovese family," Sarah recited calmly, scrolling through his personal file. "Your wife lives in a brownstone in Queens under her maiden name, and your daughter attends a private boarding school in Vermont, funded entirely by offshore wire transfers originating from a Swiss account managed by Dominic Rossi."
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The operative's bravado evaporated instantly. The color drained completely from his face. "How... how do you know that?"
"I know everything," Sarah said softly. "And if you don't give me Dominic Rossi’s direct meeting coordinates within the next ten seconds, your wife’s accounts will be liquidated, and your daughter’s boarding school tuition will bounce permanently. You have five seconds."
