Chapter 12 - The Law of the Alps
Alexander Hayes walked onto the terrace, accompanied by six men dressed in impeccably tailored suits and dark tactical windbreakers.
On their lapels gleamed the silver badges of the Swiss Federal Judicial Police and the red crest of Interpol.
Vincent spun around, his two Chicago enforcers drawing their suppressed semi-automatic handguns with terrifying speed.
"Weapons down on the stone floor! Federal police! Do not move!" barked the lead Swiss inspector, stepping forward with drawn firearms.
Before Vincent's men could even acquire their targets, four high-powered laser sights painted crimson dots directly over the chests of his bodyguards.
Specialized snipers stationed on the hotel's ornamental spires had already locked down the entire perimeter.
Vincent’s capos froze, their faces draining of blood as they realized they were outmanned, outgunned, and completely out of their jurisdiction.
"Drop them," Vincent commanded his men through gritted teeth, his voice shaking with humiliation.
The heavy metal handguns clattered onto the flagstones with a dull, hollow ring.
Swiss officers swarmed the two enforcers instantly, pinning them against the icy parapet and securing their wrists in heavy steel handcuffs.
"Vincent Moretti," the lead inspector announced, presenting an official trilingual warrant stamped by the Swiss Federal Department of Foreign Affairs.
"You and your associates are under arrest for entering Swiss territory in possession of unregistered automatic firearms, making cross-border terroristic extortion threats, and violation of the Swiss Federal Penal Code."
"Do you know who I am?" Vincent sneered, his arrogance refusing to die even as the net closed around him.
"I am Vincent Moretti."
"I own the docks in Cook County; I fund political campaigns in Washington."
"This is not Cook County, Mr. Moretti," Alexander said, walking past the handcuffed bodyguards to stand beside my chair.
"Your corrupt judges and paid aldermen have no authority within eighty-five hundred miles of Bern."
"You crossed an ocean to intimidate an executive of Hayes International, and in doing so, you handed us the ultimate legal leverage."
Vincent ignored Alexander completely, his eyes locking onto mine with an agonizing, pleading intensity that exposed the hollow core of his soul.
"Claire... tell them to stop," Vincent whispered, his arrogant facade finally cracking into jagged pieces of sheer panic.
"Tell them this is a domestic dispute between a husband and a wife."
"You cannot let them lock me in a European cage!"
"I loved you, Claire! I swear before God, I always loved you!"
I rose slowly to my feet, wrapping my ivory coat tightly around myself against the mountain breeze.
"You never loved me, Vincent," I said, each word sounding like a death sentence pronounced from on high.
"You loved having a loyal shadow who never asked questions while you tended to Sophia Reynolds."
"You loved having a flawless wife to present to your grandfather while you spent your soul comforting another woman."
"And when that woman tried to poison me in our marital bedroom, your only concern was wiping her tears."
"I was blind!" Vincent shouted, tears finally spilling over his dark lashes as two Swiss federal agents gripped his arms.
"I banished her! Grandfather destroyed her entire life for you!"
"You did not banish her for me, Vincent; your grandfather banished her because she disgraced the Moretti name in front of the syndicate," I said coldly.
I picked up the unsealed envelope from the table and tucked it into his breast pocket, right next to his frozen heart.
"Inside is the international decree of absolute dissolution."
"It is over, Vincent."
"You are not a king here."
"You are merely a common criminal facing justice."
The Swiss officers forced Vincent's hands behind his back, the heavy handcuffs clicking into place with final, irrevocable precision.
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As they dragged him toward the awaiting police convoy, Vincent kept turning his head, shouting my name into the cold alpine mist.
His screams bounced off the ancient stone walls of the Dolder Grand, growing fainter and fainter until the silence of the Swiss mountains reclaimed the terrace.
