Chapter 5 - Who Opened the Harbor Gate
Salvatore asked me to come to Mara's office once more, not to identify a stranger in a grainy recording but to clarify something about the fragment.
By then, the laboratory had completed its preliminary report. Dr. Chen had determined that the metal was a small portion of a projectile jacket. The finding was consistent with Salvatore's recollection of being shot. Its condition did not allow a reliable match to a particular firearm.
That was important.
The fragment could support the fact that a bullet had struck near Salvatore's damaged molar. It could not tell us whether Carmine arranged the attack.
“Then I'll stop asking it questions it can't answer,” Salvatore said after I explained.
Mara's expression softened. “That's the first sensible thing anyone has said in this case.”
She spread the newly obtained security contracts across the table.
North Pier Security had been a small subcontractor. Its owner had signed a twelve-week agreement to provide temporary harbor guards. Carmine approved the contract, including access to a service gate that the regular staff rarely used.
The agreement was canceled the morning after the ambush.
None of that was necessarily illegal. Businesses canceled contracts after violent incidents all the time. But another document was harder to explain.
An access authorization had been signed at 7:40 on the night of the attack, assigning a temporary supervisor to the service booth. It had been entered under a management approval code assigned specifically to Carmine, not the standard pool of employee credentials.
“Could somebody else have used that code?” I asked.
“Possibly,” Mara said. “But the associated authorization was countersigned by Carmine's office. We have both the digital audit history and the original paper.”
Salvatore traced a finger over the document.
“Daniel Price was blamed for opening the gate,” he said.
“Daniel didn't even have this approval code,” Mara replied. “His access credential opened staff doors. Not management overrides.”
Salvatore shut his eyes.
For eight years, the family of a dead security officer had lived with the suspicion that he had led killers toward the man he was supposed to protect. I could see how much that thought hurt Salvatore now.
“Have you told them?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Mara said. “We want an independent verification before asking them to relive that night.”
Salvatore nodded reluctantly.
That was when Carmine arrived without an appointment.
A receptionist tried to stop him, but he came through the conference-room door wearing the same easy smile I'd seen at the mansion.
“So this is where everyone is hiding.”
Salvatore didn't rise.
“Sit down.”
Carmine looked at the papers. His smile faded.
Mara said, “We're reviewing the North Pier contract.”
“You should have called me,” Carmine replied. “I would have explained it.”
“Please do,” Salvatore said.
His brother pulled out a chair but stayed standing.
“After the threats, I knew the main gate wasn't safe. I arranged a service entry as a precaution. The contractors were supposed to secure it. They failed.”
“So you changed our route,” Salvatore said.
“Yes. To protect you.”
“Why did you tell everyone Daniel Price ordered the gate opened?”
“I didn't. That's what the security report said.”
“You signed the approval.”
Carmine glanced toward Mara.
“I signed dozens of authorizations. Eight years later, you expect me to remember each one?”
Mara slid the relevant document across the table.
“Your office requested that the regular gate cameras be serviced during that same period,” she said. “The request was withdrawn afterward.”
For a moment, Carmine had no answer.
Then he looked at me.
“All this because of a dentist?”
“No,” Salvatore said. “Because you keep trying to stop us from asking.”
He didn't raise his voice. Carmine still seemed to recoil.
The discussion ended when Mara advised everyone that the documents would be given to investigators, not argued over in a room where no one was under oath. Carmine left without saying goodbye.
I remained behind to make sure my medical testimony had been accurately summarized. Mara had taken care to describe the injury as consistent with an old projectile fragment, not conclusive proof of anything beyond that.
Salvatore stood by the window, looking down at the traffic below.
“He says he changed the route for my safety,” he said.
“Do you believe him?”
“I believed him eight years ago.”
There was nothing I could say to make that less painful.
Two days later, I received the revised clinic lease. I could keep the premises for another year if I maintained the payment schedule. The terms weren't generous, and there would be no room for unexpected expenses, but they were real. I signed them with a feeling I hadn't experienced since my father's death.
Relief.
Then Mara called again.
An accounting firm reviewing the North Pier payments had discovered an unusual detail. The contractor was paid through two separate businesses. One was a legitimate shipping subsidiary. The other was a small holding company that had no recorded reason to employ harbor guards.
The holding company belonged to Carmine.
Its bank records showed that a large advance had been sent to North Pier one day before the ambush, beyond the amount required under the signed contract.
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Carmine had not merely authorized the gate change.
He had privately paid the people stationed there.
