Chapter 6 - The Rat Trap
The black SUV pulled up to the rear service gate of the Oyster Bay estate at 11:15 PM.
The rain had intensified, falling in heavy, wind-whipped sheets that drummed against the reinforced glass of the vehicle's windshield.
Gio Renzo was waiting in the darkness beneath the willow trees bordering the north wall. He wore a heavy black oilskin coat, his hands tucked deep into his pockets, his broad face wet with rain.
When Dominic got out of the passenger side, Gio stepped forward, his mouth opening to form words.
Dominic raised a single finger to his lips.
Gio froze. He looked at Dominic’s left ear—at the neat white gauze pad taped beneath his hairline—and then looked into Dominic’s eyes.
Gio’s eyes widened in sudden, staggering comprehension.
Dominic leaned close to Gio’s ear.
"Speak quietly," Dominic whispered, his voice barely audible above the sound of the storm.
Gio let out a sharp, ragged breath, his massive shoulders trembling for a brief second before he regained his composure. He leaned close to Dominic’s good ear.
"Paul Marchetti arrived an hour ago," Gio whispered, his voice shaking with restrained rage. "He brought four men from his private security detail. They're inside the main house with Sabrina. They think you're still sleeping in the east wing."
"And Wexler?" Dominic asked.
"Still locked in the dock cellar," Gio replied. "He started screaming two hours ago. Offered me two million dollars to let him out."
Dominic looked toward the grand, dark silhouette of the estate towering against the grey night sky.
"Where are Marchetti’s men posted?"
"Two at the front gates. Two in the lower security room," Gio said. "Paul and Sabrina are in your private study on the second floor. They're going through your wall safe."
Dominic turned to Nora, who stood beside the SUV, wrapped in a dark raincoat Gio had provided.
"Stay with Gio at the gatehouse," Dominic instructed her.
"No," Nora said, her voice quiet but unyielding. "If they have firearms, if an explosive charge is used... the acoustic pressure will destroy your eardrum. You need me to manage the field dressing if the seal ruptures."
Dominic looked at her for three seconds, recognizing the same stubborn, unyielding spirit that had made her climb his fence eighteen hours ago.
"Gio, give her a piece," Dominic ordered.
Gio pulled a compact Glock 19 from his shoulder holster and passed it to Nora. She took it without hesitation, checked the chamber with a practiced, professional rack of the slide, and slipped it into her raincoat pocket.
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Dominic pulled his own weapon—a heavy, custom-built Sig Sauer P226 equipped with a wet-suppressor—from the door panel of the SUV.
"No lights," Dominic whispered. "We enter through the wine cellar."
