The armored convoy swept back into Manhattan just before dawn, cutting through a thick blanket of sea fog that rolled off the East River. The streets of the city were desolate, streetlights casting sickly amber halos across the damp asphalt. As the vehicles approached the towering wrought-iron gates of the Moretti estate, the tension among the men was palpable. The gates swung open with heavy hydraulic authority, admitting the convoy…
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