Chapter 9 - THE PARANOIA OF POWER
Moretti approached the spot with silent, deliberate steps, his gun raised to target level as he swept his gaze across every dark alcove and doorway lining the corridor.
He reached the mark on the floor and dropped to one knee, keeping his weapon aimed down the hallway toward the elevator foyer. He reached out with his left hand, dipping his index finger into the tiny droplet, then brought it to his nose.
The faint, unmistakable metallic smell of fresh rain and street oil filled his senses.
Someone had been standing in this hallway minutes ago. Someone who had recently come in from the wet streets of New York, bypassing the primary security gates, the elevator codes, and the outer perimeter guards without triggering a single electronic alarm.
Someone who knew exactly where Moretti’s bedroom was—and knew precisely when the powerful crime boss was closest to sleep.
A cold, ruthless clarity settled over Moretti’s mind. The insomnia that had plagued him for three years was not a medical disorder; it was a subconscious survival mechanism. His mind had known, even when his conscious thoughts did not, that surrender to sleep meant absolute vulnerability.
He stood up slowly, his jaw set like iron. He walked briskly down the remainder of the corridor, checking the high-security electronic locks on the double entry doors.
The control panel was illuminated green. Secured.
He checked the internal override log on the small digital screen embedded in the wall. The screen displayed a single line of text:
ACCESS GRANTED - MASTER OVERRIDE - 03:14 AM
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Moretti’s breath hitched in his throat. The time stamp was four minutes ago.
The intruder hadn't broken in through a window or picked a lock; they possessed a master override keycard—an asset held by only three people in his entire global organization.
