Chapter 11 - The Serpent's Banquet
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The Grand Venetian Ballroom was an obscene temple of gold leaf, crystal chandeliers, and stolen wealth.
Valets in red coats lined the circular driveway on Wacker Drive, parking custom Lamborghinis, armored Escalades, and Bentleys.
Over three hundred guests filled the three-story hall, drinking vintage champagne and dining on Alaskan king crab.
Every major capo from Detroit, Cleveland, and Milwaukee had arrived to pay homage to the new boss.
Carmine stood at the top of the sweeping marble staircase, wearing a white tuxedo with a red rose pinned to his lapel.
He held a crystal flute of Cristal, basking in the applause and sycophantic laughter of men who had betrayed Gabriel the moment he fell.
At eight-fifteen, a sleek black town car pulled up to the side delivery bay.
I stepped out onto the wet pavement, my ivory silk gown sweeping over the damp ground.
The dress clung to every curve of my body, the neckline dipping low enough to display the heavy gold Falcone crest hanging against my skin.
My hair was swept up into an elaborate French twist, and my lips were painted the color of fresh blood.
Behind me, Leo adjusted his black security suit, patting the suppressed automatic pistol hidden beneath his jacket.
"Master breaker box is on the sub-level three," Leo whispered, pressing an earpiece into my hand.
"The boss is already inside the ventilation shafts."
"You have ten minutes to get to the main mezzanine before the signal."
I took a deep breath, smoothing down the silk of my dress.
"Let's go take the city back," I said.
I bypassed the kitchen staff by entering through the private service elevator, flashing the forged VIP pass Leo had manufactured.
The guards barely looked at the pass; their eyes were glued to the ivory dress and the diamond earrings catching the chandelier glow.
I stepped onto the mezzanine floor overlooking the vast sea of mafia royalty.
The music from the twenty-piece orchestra was playing a slow jazz waltz.
Carmine tapped his crystal flute with a gold dessert spoon, the sharp chime cutting through the conversation below.
The room fell completely silent.
"Brothers, friends, honored associates," Carmine began, his voice amplified by the room's acoustic speakers.
"One week ago, our family suffered an unspeakable tragedy."
"The great Gabriel Falcone was taken from us by cowards in the dark."
A murmur of false sympathy echoed through the crowd.
"Gabriel was a brother to me," Carmine lied, placing a hand over his heart with rehearsed solemnity.
"He taught me everything I know about honor, loyalty, and strength."
"And though his body was stolen from our care by traitors who will soon face our wrath..."
Carmine paused, raising his champagne flute high toward the ceiling.
"I pledge to you, on his sacred memory, that the Falcone empire will rise higher than ever before!"
"Under my leadership, our profits will double!"
"Under my command, Chicago will bow!"
"To the New Dawn!" Carmine roared.
"To the New Dawn!" the crowd shouted in unison, raising their glasses into the glittering air.
I looked down at my watch.
May you like
Eight-thirty precisely.
I reached into my evening clutch, pulled out a small electronic detonator switch, and pressed the black button.
