Chapter 6 - THE CLINIC WITH NO PATIENTSWORD NUMBER - 6
The abandoned clinic stood beneath the elevated train line on a block where half the storefronts had metal shutters.
Victor Vale had owned it fifteen years earlier.
Officially, it had been a rehabilitation center.
Unofficially, Marco said, it had treated people who needed medical care without questions.
Gunshots.
Knife wounds.
Overdoses.
Men who could not walk into public hospitals.
Bellini had worked there.
So had several Moretti doctors.
The building had been closed for nine years.
Someone had electricity running inside.
Luca wanted me three blocks away inside an armored SUV.
I refused.
We compromised at one block.
He called that victory.
I called it arithmetic.
Marco fitted a small transmitter beneath my collar.
“If anyone grabs you—”
“I scream.”
“No.”
He looked offended.
“You press this.”
He showed me a panic switch.
“I can do both.”
Luca stood beside the open vehicle door.
“You don’t improvise.”
I stared.
“You met me because I improvised with a teaspoon.”
His mouth almost moved.
“This is different.”
“I know.”
He looked at me longer than necessary.
Then said:
“Stay behind Marco.”
The clinic smelled like dust and antiseptic.
Security entered through the rear.
Luca, Marco, and I entered through the front.
The lobby still contained faded signs.
PATIENT CONFIDENTIALITY IS OUR PRIORITY.
I almost laughed.
A speaker crackled.
Bellini’s voice.
“Luca.”
Luca stopped.
“You wanted me.”
“Yes.”
“You have Vanessa.”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
A television switched on behind reception.
Vanessa appeared.
Still tied to a chair.
She looked exhausted but alive.
“Luca!”
Her voice came through the screen.
“Don’t give him anything!”
Bellini muted her.
“Bring Emma to the second floor.”
“No.”
“Then Vanessa loses a finger.”
I flinched.
Luca’s face became terrifyingly calm.
“If you touch her, there is nowhere you can go.”
Bellini laughed.
“Your father said something similar.”
That hit.
Luca looked toward the camera.
“You treated him.”
“Yes.”
“You poisoned him.”
“Yes.”
No denial.
“Why?”
“Because Antonio believed blood made him king.”
“You helped Silvio.”
Silence.
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
“That surprised you.”
Bellini replied:
“You’ve learned too much too quickly.”
I whispered to Marco, “He didn’t know we knew about Silvio.”
Marco nodded.
Important.
Bellini continued.
“Second floor. Emma alone.”
Luca shook his head.
I stepped forward.
“I’ll go.”
“No.”
“Vanessa is alive.”
“So are you.”
“And if we stay here, he hurts her.”
Luca leaned closer.
“You are not expendable.”
Something in his tone stopped me.
Not because he was ordering me.
Because he meant it.
“I know.”
I touched the transmitter.
“That’s why you’ll be listening.”
Before he could stop me, I walked toward the stairs.
Marco swore.
Luca said my name once.
I did not turn.
Second floor.
The corridor was dark.
A single light glowed inside room 214.
I entered.
Vanessa sat inside.
No Bellini.
Her hands were tied loosely enough that I freed them within seconds.
“That was easy.”
“Too easy,” Vanessa whispered.
A door locked behind us.
Gas hissed.
I panicked.
Vanessa pointed upward.
“Vent.”
I pressed the transmitter.
“Gas.”
Almost immediately, something slammed against the outer door.
Luca.
Security.
The door opened thirty seconds later.
No gas.
Steam.
A distraction.
Bellini had wanted everyone upstairs.
Marco’s voice exploded through the radio.
“Basement!”
We ran.
By the time Luca reached the lower level, Bellini was gone.
So was a steel medical case removed from a secure refrigerator.
“What was in it?” Luca asked.
Vanessa leaned against the wall.
“I know.”
Everyone looked at her.
She was pale.
“My father’s blood samples.”
Silence.
“Why would Victor’s blood be here?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“Because my father has been coming to Bellini secretly for treatment.”
Cancer.
Clara had said Victor was dying.
Bellini controlled his care too.
Luca understood.
“He’s poisoning Victor.”
“Maybe.”
Vanessa looked frightened.
“My father’s cancer might not be cancer.”
That possibility changed everything.
Bellini was not simply eliminating Luca.
He was controlling both families medically.
Diagnosis.
Treatment.
Symptoms.
Deaths.
He could make poisoning look like disease.
Luca asked, “Where is Victor?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“He wasn’t at home.”
“He keeps a private apartment.”
“Address.”
She gave it.
Marco dispatched men.
Then Luca looked at her.
“The recording.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“I have it.”
“Where?”
“Not here.”
“Why did Bellini take you?”
“He thought I brought it to dinner.”
“The velvet pouch?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“The pouch really had earrings.”
“So someone switched what was inside.”
“Yes.”
“Did you remove Luca’s original spoons?”
“No.”
“Did you find them upstairs?”
“Yes.”
“Who told you where?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“My father.”
Luca became still.
“Victor told you?”
“He called before dinner. Said there was a blue velvet pouch in your dressing room and I should bring it to him after dinner.”
“Why?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“So Victor knew the spoons had been moved.”
“Yes.”
My head hurt.
Victor might be victim.
Victor might be conspirator.
Possibly both.
We reached his private apartment thirty minutes later.
The door was unlocked.
Victor Vale sat in an armchair overlooking Lake Michigan.
Alive.
Barely.
He looked smaller than photographs.
Gray skin.
Thin hands.
A blanket over his legs.
Vanessa ran to him.
“Dad.”
He opened his eyes.
When he saw Luca, fear crossed his face.
Then he saw me.
His expression changed completely.
“Clara’s daughter.”
I stopped.
“You knew my mother.”
“Yes.”
“Did you try to kill her?”
Victor closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Vanessa stepped backward.
“Dad.”
He looked at her.
“I am not asking forgiveness.”
Then at me.
“I ordered Thomas to give us her location.”
My hands shook.
“Why?”
“Because Clara found accounts I had spent years hiding.”
“For Silvio?”
“For myself.”
He coughed.
Blood stained the cloth.
Vanessa gasped.
Victor ignored it.
“I was stealing from Antonio.”
Luca’s face hardened.
“How much?”
“Millions.”
“With Silvio?”
“At first.”
“At first?”
Victor looked toward the window.
“Silvio wanted control. I wanted money. Bellini wanted medical access to powerful men.”
“What did Antonio discover?”
“Everything.”
“Then Clara.”
“Yes.”
Victor admitted the crash.
Rizzo.
Thomas.
The cover-up.
But then he said something none of us expected.
“Clara survived because I told Rizzo not to verify the body.”
I stared.
“You spared her?”
“No.”
His voice was bitter.
“I left a door open because I was afraid.”
“Of Silvio?”
“Of what we had become.”
Vanessa sat beside him crying.
“What recording do you have?” Luca asked.
Victor looked at his daughter.
“She found it.”
“Antonio’s interrogation.”
“Yes.”
“Who killed him?”
Victor’s eyes moved toward Luca.
“Silvio gave the order.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“And Bellini?”
“Kept him conscious.”
The room became cold.
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Victor continued.
“Antonio hid something before they found him.”
“What?”
“The original Moretti succession ledger.”
“What is that?”
“A record of every legitimate company, hidden partnership, political payment, and family asset.”
Silvio had spent twelve years searching for it.
Without the ledger, he controlled operations but could not safely move certain old assets.
“He thinks Clara has it,” Victor said.
“Does she?”
“I don’t know.”
My mother’s red notebook might contain clues.
Luca looked at Victor.
“Why poison me now?”
“Because of the wedding.”
“How?”
“When you marry Vanessa, several holding companies merge under a new trust.”
“And?”
“An audit becomes mandatory.”
Vanessa stared.
“Our prenup audit.”
Victor nodded.
“The audit would reveal old transfers.”
Silvio needed Luca dead before the wedding.
He needed Victor incapacitated.
Then Vanessa would inherit Vale holdings under pressure.
Silvio could control both through emergency management agreements.
Luca’s phone rang.
Silvio.
He answered on speaker.
“Uncle.”
Silvio’s voice remained calm.
“I hear you found Victor.”
Luca looked at the dying man.
“Yes.”
“Then he probably told you a beautiful story.”
“He told me you murdered my father.”
A pause.
Silvio sighed.
“Antonio murdered himself the day he threatened everyone around him.”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
Luca’s eyes darkened.
“No, you’re not.”
Silvio laughed.
“You were always better than Antonio at hearing lies.”
Then my phone buzzed.
A live video.
My mother.
Bound to a chair.
Blood on her forehead.
Silvio stepped into frame behind her.
He smiled.
“Now, Emma.”
May you like
He rested a hand on Clara’s shoulder.
“Let’s discuss the ledger your mother has spent twelve years hiding.”
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