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Giuseppe put Bob on hold, and the conversation paused as he presumably reached out to Vandenburg. The silence was filled with the symphony of the rain and our anxious breaths. Each of us was immersed in our thoughts, contemplating the next steps.
After a moment, his earpiece buzzed back to life. "Giuseppe... yes, we're ready... Understood," he affirmed, ending the conversation. He turned to us, a hard, resolute look in his eyes. Now, we were waiting on Giuseppe's instructions and Vandenburg's report. The game had begun.
The storm started to ease, the harsh downpour fading into a drizzle. We began to shake off the tension, letting the conversation drift to lighter topics, like our postponed golf game and the upcoming weekend plans.
Just as Ryder described a particularly challenging hole at Coronado Pines, the hushed buzz of Bob's earpiece sliced through our chatter. The conversation ground to a halt as Bob pressed a hand to his ear, his face growing serious. "Giuseppe," he said, the name floating in the air, followed by a pause as he listened intently.
"Understood. New witness, you say... Yes, will relay." He ended the call, turning to us with a new intensity in his gaze.
"Giuseppe has spoken to Vandenburg," he informed us, his voice cutting through the lingering murmur of the rain. "Vandenburg is ready to report a new witness has come forward but a deposition has yet to be scheduled. However, for the sake of anyone who might be listening, he will not mention the deposition during the actual video conference.”
A new ripple of excitement ran through us. This was a game-changer. It was clear that Vandenburg was in on our ruse and was ready to play along. We all nodded, sharing a look of understanding.
With the rain now little more than a gentle patter, we made our way back inside, gearing up for the video conference. Finally, the pieces were falling into place, and we were ready to make our next move.
Before we filed back into the conference room, Bob double-checked the covert devices. He took out a small device from his pocket, a frequency scanner, and held it in the air, his eyes narrowed in concentration. The scanner blinked a few times, indicating the bugs were still active. Bob nodded in satisfaction, tucking the scanner back into his pocket.
"Good to go," he announced, stepping aside to let us back into the room.
Chase had already booted up the video conferencing equipment. The room hummed with the familiar sound of the system coming to life. The large screen at the front of the room flickered on, casting a blue glow across the polished conference table. Chase dialed in the details, and within moments, the face of Joe Vandenburg, our lead attorney, filled the screen.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Vandenburg began, his voice crisp and clear through the speakers. His usual stern countenance was replaced with an unusual glint in his eyes. "I have good news."
We leaned in, our collective breaths held in anticipation.
"A new witness has come forward in the case,” he announced. His voice was rich with satisfaction, a stark contrast to the seriousness of the matter. "This individual claims to have concrete evidence that Valley Technology had stolen the plans for the Golden Key Project from Rosedale. As we are aware, they've sold it to the state of California, just as Rosedale intended to do."
We shared satisfied glances. The strategic game had begun, and we were performing our roles with precision. But we were acutely aware that this was merely the beginning. The subsequent maneuvers would be crucial in pressuring our suspect—hopefully on the edge of revealing themselves—to step forward and negotiate.
Just as we were absorbing Vandenburg's news, my phone buzzed with a new message. I glanced at it quickly, noting it was a notification from the Signal app:
You have a message from Courtney Thompson.
Not wanting to interrupt the flow of the meeting, I chose to check the message later.
As the video call ended, my phone vibrated again, displaying the same message. My heart rate spiked. It was unlike Courtney to send two messages quickly, especially when she knew it was still office hours.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," I said, standing abruptly. The scrape of my chair against the polished floor echoed in the now quiet room. "We need to step outside."
The team exchanged puzzled glances, but no one questioned the urgency in my voice. One by one, we filed out of the room, leaving the muted glow of the screen behind. Outside, under the overhang that shielded us from the soft drizzle, I pulled out my phone, showing them the repeated notifications from Courtney.
"I'm worried," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "Courtney messaged me twice in quick succession, which she never does. I'm afraid something might have happened to her. She’s using the Signal app because her flip phone hasn't arrived yet. She's received a mysterious package containing something she is afraid to mention…sounds like it's a 'eyes only' sort of thing."
Bob took charge instantly. "Let me contact Giuseppe," he suggested, already reaching for his earpiece. Moments later, he was speaking softly into the device.
While we waited for Giuseppe's response, the drizzle intensified into a gentle rain, pattering against the roof and the pavement. The comforting rhythm, however, did little to ease the tension hanging in the air.
Giuseppe's response came through the earpiece promptly. "Giuseppe advises we meet him at the Bella Vita restaurant," Bob relayed, ending the call. "We can have a drink there and discuss the situation without worrying about being overheard. It's the same place Amy and Mitch had their engagement party."
With that settled, we made our way to our cars, my mind occupied with thoughts of Courtney and the unexpected turn of events.
Bella Vita was a short drive from Rosedale. The clouds had cleared by the time we arrived, leaving behind a fresh, crisp scent that filled the air. The restaurant was an elegant, old-world-style establishment with a rustic charm that belied the sophistication of its cuisine and clientele.
Giuseppe was waiting for us in the back room. This private dining area offered a quiet reprieve from the general hustle and bustle of the restaurant. The room was already filled with the enticing aroma of a selection of hors d'oeuvres, and a cocktail waitress was standing at the ready.
Giuseppe, a grandiose Sicilian, was a larger-than-life character. As a part of the Russo Mafia Family, he was seasoned in navigating complex and clandestine situations. He exuded an air of authority that was hard to ignore with his deep-set eyes and slicked-back silver hair. His suit was meticulously tailored, fitting him like a second skin, the sharp lines accentuating his imposing presence.
"Ah, my friends, welcome," Giuseppe greeted us in his thick Italian accent. Then, with his arms opened wide in a welcoming gesture, he gave his son-in-law, Mitch, a warm hug.
