Chapter 14 - The Tribunal of Broken Crowns
The grand ballroom of the historic Taj Mahal Resort in Atlantic City was built to hold two thousand people,
featuring soaring gilded ceilings,
massive crystal chandeliers,
and private balconies overlooking the dark Atlantic Ocean.
Tonight,
however,
the room was completely sealed.
Heavy black steel shutters covered every arched window,
and over fifty armed guards lined the perimeter of the room.
This was the emergency Commission Tribunal.
Seated on an elevated marble platform in the center of the ballroom were the heads of all Five Families of New York,
along with the bosses of Philadelphia,
Chicago,
and New England.
Standing in the center of the floor,
surrounded by armed enforcers,
were Marco Falcone,
Dr. Vance Sterling,
and Victoria Sterling—all three stripped of their power,
their hands bound in heavy security chains.
Gabriel Falcone stood at the main microphone stand,
his physical presence imposing,
his white dress shirt impeccably pressed over his dark suit jacket.
I sat at a long presentation table beside Carmine,
surrounded by physical evidence,
chemical diagnostic screens,
and legal ledgers.
"Leaders of the Commission,"
Gabriel's voice boomed out across the vast,
silent ballroom.
"For eighteen months,"
"a corporate syndicate led by the Sterling family attempted to systematically murder the leadership of every territory represented in this room."
"They used our own greed,"
"our own internal rivalries,"
"and our trust in modern medical facilities against us."
Don Moretti of New York stood up from his central chair on the platform,
leaning heavily on a brass walking stick.
"We have reviewed the evidence provided by Elena Vance,"
Moretti announced,
his harsh voice carrying absolute authority.
"The chemical reports,"
"the Paterson archives,"
"and the intercepted hospital shipments leave no room for doubt."
Moretti turned his cold gaze toward Marco Falcone.
"Marco Falcone,"
Moretti spat out.
"You sold out your own brother,"
"your own family,"
"and the entire Commission for corporate stock and Newark shipping shares."
"In accordance with the ancient laws of this council,"
"your life is forfeit."
Marco dropped to his knees,
his face pale,
his voice high and trembling.
"Don Moretti!"
"Gabriel!"
"Please!"
"I was manipulated!"
"Sterling convinced me Gabriel was going to retire!"
Gabriel didn't even look down at his kneeling brother.
"Take him out to the docks,"
Gabriel ordered Carmine flatly.
Before Carmine could step forward,
the heavy brass chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling began to hum violently.
A low,
throbbing high-frequency sound vibrated through the air,
making the glass crystal drops chime loudly against each other.
"What is that noise?"
Don Valenti of Queens asked,
covering his ears as the pitch rose higher.
My chemical sensor on the table suddenly flashed a bright yellow warning:
HIGH-FREQUENCY ULTRASONIC RESONANCE DETECTED.
"Gabriel!"
I screamed,
jumping up from the table.
"It's not an assault team!"
"It's a acoustic trigger!"
Above us,
the high-frequency sound waves hit the specific resonance frequency of the heavy glass light fixtures.
CRASH!
CRASH!
CRASH!
Four massive crystal chandeliers,
each weighing over two thousand pounds,
shattered simultaneously into tens of thousands of sharp glass needles,
plunging the entire ballroom into darkness as the heavy iron ceiling mounts snapped under the sonic vibration.
Screams of confusion filled the room as glass rained down onto the marble floor.
Through the darkness,
a secret side panel in the ballroom wall slid open,
and three armed figures wearing dark tactical gear lunged into the room,
attempting to grab Victoria Sterling and Vance Sterling in the chaos.
"Carmine!"
Gabriel roared,
firing blindly into the darkness toward the side exit.
I didn't reach for a weapon.
I reached for the main audio control desk near the stage.
Using my knowledge of acoustic frequencies I had studied during my textile resonance training,
I grabbed the master graphic equalizer sliders,
jammed the master gain to maximum,
and slammed the low-frequency bass filter down to 20 Hertz.
A massive,
earth-shaking wave of sub-bass sound exploded from the venue's fifty-thousand-watt concert speakers!
The low-frequency acoustic wall hit the incoming tactical team like a physical sledgehammer,
shattering their night-vision goggles and knocking all three attackers flat onto their backs on the glass-covered floor.
The lights flickered back on as the emergency generators kicked in.
Gabriel stepped over the unconscious mercenaries,
his gun leveled straight at Victoria Sterling's forehead.
"Your tricks are over,
Victoria,"
Gabriel declared,
his voice echoing through the silent,
May you like
ruined ballroom.
"The tribunal has spoken."
