Chapter 5 - The War in Providence
The rain in Providence fell in heavy, icy sheets, washing over the industrial district along the Seekonk River.
In a abandoned textile mill near the water's edge, six men sat around a makeshift table lit by halogen work lamps. On the table sat a single, silver hardware drive, hooked up to a high-powered custom laptop with multiple cooling fans whirring violently.
A man with a heavily scarred face and a dark leather jacket—Nico Vane, the Moretti family's chief enforcer in New England—stood smoking a cigarette, watching the progress bar on the laptop screen.
"How much longer?" Nico demanded, flicking ash onto the concrete floor.
The young programmer sitting at the laptop shook his head nervously. "I told you, Nico! This isn't standard encryption! It's a double-layered AES-256 algorithm with a self-destruct trigger! If I try to brute-force the passcode, the whole drive wipes itself clean!"
"Then find another way around it!" Nico barked, tapping his heavy hand on the butt of the pistol tucked into his belt. "Don Moretti wants those Boston account numbers by morning. That accountant girl nearly died taking this thing to the grave—it's worth tens of millions!"
"She was tough," one of the hitmen sitting near the door laughed, tossing a heavy steel pipe from hand to hand. "Gave me a hell of a fight before I broke her leg. Kept screaming at us to get away from her bag."
Nico smirked. "Well, she's probably dead in some Boston hospital right now. Costello's soft. He lets a broad handle his money, and look what happens—"
BOOM.
The heavy metal loading doors of the textile mill exploded inward with a deafening roar.
A heavy, armor-plated SUV slammed through the burning metal frame, skidding across the concrete floor and crushing two of Nico's men instantly beneath its wheels.
Before the smoke could even begin to clear, automatic gunfire erupted from the passenger side of the vehicle.
Arthur Costello stepped out of the driver's side into the haze of smoke and fire. He moved with cold, mechanical efficiency, a submachine gun cradled in his hands. He didn't take cover. He didn't hesitate.
"Costello!" Nico screamed, pulling his weapon and scrambling behind a concrete pillar. "Kill him! Kill him now!"
The mill erupted into chaos. Gunfire echoed like thunder beneath the high corrugated steel roof. Glass shattered, concrete chipped into blinding sprays of dust, and the smell of cordite filled the cold air.
Frank Rossi and six of Boston's deadliest enforcers poured through the shattered entrance behind the SUV, flanking the remaining Moretti hitmen with brutal precision.
Arthur walked straight through the crossfire, his eyes locked on Nico's position.
A Moretti hitman stepped out from behind a wooden crate, raising a shotgun. Arthur didn't even flinch—he raised his left hand, fired three swift rounds from his custom Colt .45 into the man's chest, and kept moving forward without breaking stride.
"Costello, you're crazy!" Nico yelled from behind the pillar, his voice cracking with sudden terror as he realized his team was being wiped out in seconds. "This is Moretti territory! You start a war here, New York will wipe you off the map!"
Arthur stopped ten feet from the pillar. The gunfire around them was dying down, replaced by the groans of dying men and the soft patter of rain falling through holes in the roof.
"New York isn't here today, Nico," Arthur said, his voice terrifyingly calm amid the devastation. "Just me."
Nico lunged out from behind the pillar, raising his gun to fire.
Arthur was faster. A single shot shattered Nico's wrist, sending his weapon spinning across the slick concrete floor.
Nico shrieked in pain, falling to his knees and clutching his bloody arm.
Arthur stepped closer, his heavy leather boots coming to a stop right in front of the bleeding enforcer. He looked down at him with dark, pitiless eyes.
"Which one of your men hit her with the pipe?" Arthur asked softly.
Nico spat blood onto Arthur's boot, grinning through his pain. "The broad? Jimmy did. Broke her leg like a dry twig. She cried like a bitch—"
Arthur didn't let him finish. He raised his foot and slammed his heavy heel down into Nico's knee with horrifying force.
A sickening crunch echoed through the silent mill, followed by a scream from Nico that echoed off the high rafters.
"Now you know how it feels," Arthur whispered.
He reached down, picked up the silver hardware drive from the laptop table, and slid it safely into his inner coat pocket.
Then he looked down at Nico one last time.
"Tell Don Moretti," Arthur said smoothly, raising his gun, "that if anyone from New York ever steps foot in Boston again, I won't just destroy his business. I'll destroy everything he loves."
A single shot cut off Nico's response forever.
Arthur turned back toward the entrance. Frank Rossi walked up, wiping blood from a minor cut on his cheek.
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"Drive is secured, boss," Frank reported. "And the mill is prepped for incendiaries. There won't be a trace of this place left in twenty minutes."
"Good," Arthur said, stepping over the debris as he walked back toward the SUV. "Let's go home. Clara is waiting."
