Chapter 13 - Flight into the Tuscan SunThe private twin-engine helicopter roared through the cloudless Mediterranean sky, slicing across the azure expanse at two hundred knots. Below us, the sun-drenched hills of Tuscany rolled past in a blur of green vineyards and terracotta roofs.
I sat in the leather cabin, my finger tracing the edges of Sophia’s crayon drawing.
“The blue car is parking too long by the gate.”
It was impossible. The Tuscana safehouse was a classified black-site fortress known to fewer than five people on earth. Even the local authorities had no record of its ownership. For someone to track Elena and Sophia there meant there was still a leak buried deep within our secure communication network.
“Gabriel,” I spoke over the deafening chop of the rotor blades through our secure comm-link. “Run a retrospective trace on every internal data packet transmitted from headquarters over the past forty-eight hours. Find out who accessed the Tuscan coordinate logs.”
“Already on it, boss,” Gabriel’s voice crackled back through the headset. “My cyber-unit in New York is stripping the mainframe servers right now. If there’s a rat, we’ll have his digital fingerprint before we touch down.”
Five minutes later, my satellite phone flashed amber.
“Moretti,” I answered instantly.
“Boss, you’re not going to believe this,” Gabriel cursed. “It wasn't a headquarters leak. The data request came from a burner terminal registered to a shell corporation tied directly to... Attorney Vance.”
My jaw tightened. Lawrence Vance—our primary legal counsel for nearly two decades, the man who had kept us out of federal prison through countless indictments.
“Vance,” I murmured, a cold fury settling in my bones. “The old fox stayed quiet while Victor and Marco fell, waiting for the dust to settle so he could inherit the wreckage.”
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“He’s selling our safehouse locations to the highest bidder on the international black market,” Gabriel confirmed. “Shall I dispatch a team to his Manhattan office?”
“Hold off,” I said, looking out the reinforced helicopter window as the Tuscan estate hove into view below. “Let’s deal with the assassins at our doorstep first. Vance can wait until we have his signature on a confession.”
