Chapter 8 - The Swan Hotel
Luca found the hotel because of Emma.
Not Marco.
Not surveillance.
Not informants.
A three-year-old with a box of crayons.
A green crayon was found near Pier 19.
Another outside a gas station.
Then a traffic camera showed the black SUV turning toward an abandoned boutique hotel in Brooklyn.
The old sign outside still carried a white swan.
Exactly like the bird Emma had drawn in the corner of the picture recovered from Crane’s car.
Luca stared at the building.
“She told us.”
Marco nodded.
“Smart kid.”
“She gets it from Rachel.”
Marco smirked.
“Probably safer to say that.”
Luca’s phone rang.
Dr. Bennett.
He ignored it.
It rang again.
Marco looked at him.
“She has persistence.”
“So does debt collection.”
“Answer.”
Luca did.
“What?”
“You left your hospital.”
“I noticed.”
“Your monitor transmitted an event twenty minutes ago.”
Luca went still.
“What kind?”
“An arrhythmia.”
Marco’s expression changed.
Dr. Bennett continued.
“You need emergency evaluation.”
“My daughter is inside a building.”
“And if you go into ventricular tachycardia while climbing stairs, she may watch you die.”
Luca closed his eyes.
“That was unnecessarily specific.”
“I’m trying to get through your skull.”
“I can’t leave.”
“Then at least take the medication I sent with your security team.”
Luca looked at Marco.
Marco held up a small medical bag.
“Traitor.”
“Alive traitor.”
Luca swallowed the medication.
Then looked at the hotel.
“Five minutes.”
Marco frowned.
“What?”
“We go in quietly.”
“And if things go bad?”
“They won’t.”
Marco gave him a look.
“Things have been bad since Tuesday.”
They entered through the kitchen.
Two guards were down before either could raise an alarm.
On the third floor, Luca found the crayons.
Green.
Blue.
Yellow.
A tiny trail down the hall.
His throat tightened.
Then he heard Emma.
“My daddy is coming.”
Luca stopped outside the door.
He had never heard her say the word before.
Daddy.
About him.
Marco touched his shoulder.
Luca nodded.
They moved.
The door opened.
Rachel looked up.
“Luca!”
A gunman turned.
Marco tackled him.
Luca crossed the room.
Emma stared at him.
Everything around him disappeared.
Three years.
Thirty-six months.
More than a thousand mornings he had chosen not to walk through a door.
Now she was ten feet away.
“Hi,” Emma whispered.
Luca’s gun lowered.
“Hi.”
“You’re Daddy?”
His eyes burned.
“Yes.”
She studied his face.
“You have a face.”
Rachel made a broken sound that was half laugh, half sob.
Luca almost smiled.
“I’ve been told.”
Emma reached one hand toward him.
Luca stepped forward.
Then a gun pressed against Rachel’s neck.
Sokolov appeared from the connecting room.
“Touch her and Rachel dies.”
Luca stopped.
Marco froze.
Sokolov smiled.
“Finally.”
His eyes moved from Luca to Emma.
“The great Luca Bellini.”
Then back.
“On his knees because of a little girl.”
Luca slowly lowered his weapon.
“Let them go.”
“Sign the transfer.”
“You get Red Hook.”
“And all contracts attached.”
“Yes.”
“Your council will never forgive you.”
“I don’t need them to.”
Sokolov smiled.
“On your knees.”
Rachel shook her head.
“Luca, don’t.”
He looked at Emma.
She was watching him.
Not the gun.
Not Sokolov.
Him.
The first memory she would ever have of her father.
Luca lowered himself to one knee.
Sokolov laughed.
“There he is.”
Luca’s hand slipped into his pocket.
He felt Emma’s green bracelet.
Then Sokolov said:
“Now sign away everything your father built.”
Luca looked up.
“No.”
Sokolov’s smile disappeared.
Luca continued.
“You made one mistake.”
“What?”
“You thought kneeling meant surrender.”
The hotel lights went out.
May you like
And someone screamed in the dark.
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