Chapter 10 - The Man Beneath the Subway
Roman did not believe him.
That was the first thought.
Not grief.
Not anger.
Disbelief.
“My father died two years before Luca.”
“Yes.”
“You expect me to believe he ordered Luca’s murder from the grave?”
David shook his head.
“No. I said Salvatore left instructions.”
“What instructions?”
“To stop anyone from exposing the old arrangement.”
Roman stared.
“Anyone?”
“Anyone.”
Nicholas stood beside Emily.
His face had gone pale.
“You’re talking about my dad.”
David looked at him.
“I know.”
Nicholas stepped forward.
“You knew?”
Roman put an arm across the boy’s chest.
“Nick.”
“No!”
Nicholas pushed past.
“You sat at our table. You came to Christmas. You gave me birthday gifts.”
David lowered his eyes.
“And I will carry that shame until I die.”
Nicholas’s voice cracked.
“You should.”
Emily watched Roman.
He had not moved.
Vanessa stood near the elevator, silent.
Cross remained by the door.
Roman finally asked, “Who executed the instruction?”
David said, “Victor.”
Vanessa whispered, “Of course.”
Roman’s hands tightened.
“But Victor said he didn’t drive the car.”
“He didn’t.”
“Who did?”
David looked toward Nicholas again.
Roman stepped between them.
“Answer me.”
David exhaled.
“Luca.”
Roman stared.
No one understood.
David continued.
“Luca was driving.”
Roman’s face twisted.
“The police report said he lost control.”
“He did.”
“Because?”
“His steering system had been tampered with.”
Emily’s stomach turned.
Victor had not needed another driver.
He had sabotaged Luca’s car.
Just like elevators.
Accidents created opportunity.
Edward Carter’s phrase.
Roman closed his eyes.
“Who ordered Victor to activate the plan?”
David looked ashamed.
“I did.”
Roman opened his eyes.
Silence.
Nicholas backed away.
Roman’s voice became deadly calm.
“You just told me you didn’t order his death.”
“I didn’t.”
“You ordered Victor to ‘activate the plan.’”
“To scare Luca.”
Roman laughed.
“By sabotaging his car?”
“I didn’t know that was the method.”
“You had worked with Victor for decades.”
“Yes.”
“And you thought he would send Luca a strongly worded letter?”
David stood.
“I told Victor to make Luca understand that exposing everything would destroy his family.”
Roman moved closer.
“You gave a murderer permission.”
David’s voice rose.
“I did not know Edward had been killed when it happened!”
Emily stared.
David looked at her.
“I learned years later.”
“Did you expose Victor?”
“No.”
“Then you became part of it.”
David nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
That answer disarmed her more than denial would have.
Roman turned away.
He walked toward the windows.
New York glittered below.
The city looked clean from forty-eight floors.
No alleys.
No shelters.
No unpaid bills.
No blood beneath old warehouses.
Distance made everything look innocent.
Roman finally said, “Why tell me about the Mercy Vault?”
David answered.
“Because Victor is coming for it.”
“You’re helping him?”
“No.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
Roman turned.
David continued.
“But if Victor gets whatever Edward and Luca stored there, everyone who could expose him loses their leverage.”
Vanessa frowned.
“I thought Victor’s confession was already uploaded.”
“Your father has it.”
“Yes.”
David looked grim.
“Your father disappeared twenty minutes ago.”
Vanessa froze.
“What?”
“His security team found his office empty.”
Vanessa grabbed the secure phone.
No answer.
David continued.
“Victor has Conrad.”
Her face drained.
Roman looked at Cross.
“Verify.”
Cross stepped aside.
David turned to Emily.
“Thomas planned tonight because he finally located you.”
Emily frowned.
“How?”
“Shelter intake system.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Someone searched for me?”
“Thomas did.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Emily remembered a shelter volunteer asking whether she had ever used her full legal name.
She had thought it was paperwork.
David continued.
“Thomas watched you for several days.”
“That’s creepy.”
Despite everything, Nicholas almost smiled.
David nodded.
“I told him the same.”
“You were working with Thomas?”
“Off and on.”
Roman turned sharply.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did Thomas hide from me?”
“Because he did not know whether I could be trusted.”
“Could you?”
David looked at his nephew.
“Some days.”
Roman shook his head.
“That may be the most honest thing you’ve said.”
Emily looked at the key in her palm.
“What exactly is in the vault?”
David answered.
“Edward’s original evidence.”
“I already found his files.”
“Copies.”
Roman looked at Emily.
“The warehouse documents were copies.”
David nodded.
“And Luca added his own material.”
“What material?” Roman asked.
“Recordings. Ledgers. Names.”
Vanessa whispered, “Enough to destroy Victor.”
“Enough to destroy a lot of people.”
Roman understood.
“Me?”
David hesitated.
“Possibly.”
Roman smiled without humor.
“Good.”
David frowned.
“You want it released?”
“I want the truth.”
“Truth is expensive.”
Emily spoke.
“So is silence.”
Everyone looked at her.
She held the metal key tightly.
“My mother paid for silence for twelve years.”
Vanessa lowered her eyes.
Emily continued.
“Roman paid for it with his brother. Nicholas paid with his father. You all keep talking about the cost of telling the truth as if nobody paid for the lie.”
David stared.
No answer.
Roman’s eyes remained on Emily.
She was right.
Again.
Roman looked at Cross.
“Get Thomas here.”
Cross called.
No response.
Again.
Nothing.
Roman frowned.
“Where is he?”
Cross checked the tracker on the secure vehicle.
His face changed.
“The SUV never reached the medical safe house.”
Roman stepped closer.
“Where did it go?”
Cross showed him.
Last location:
Canal Street.
Near the same shuttered subway entrance where Emily had first met Thomas.
Emily whispered, “Why would he go back?”
Roman remembered.
Thomas had chosen that location to deliver the letter.
Maybe not because it was random.
“Because there’s something there.”
David looked surprised.
Roman saw it.
“You know.”
David hesitated.
“That subway entrance has been closed for eleven years.”
“So?”
“It connects to the basement of the original Moretti building.”
The Mercy Vault.
Roman looked at Emily.
Thomas had been standing almost directly above it when he gave her the letter.
Cross grabbed his jacket.
“We move now.”
David lifted his cane.
“I’m coming.”
Roman stared.
“No.”
“You need me.”
“For what?”
“The vault has two locks.”
Emily looked at the key.
“And the second?”
David reached into his coat.
He removed an old brass key.
“Mine.”
Roman’s expression darkened.
“Why did Luca trust you with it?”
“He didn’t.”
David looked toward Nicholas.
“Salvatore did.”
Roman stared.
The web was older than Luca.
Older than Edward.
Maybe older than Roman himself.
They left Harbor Crest through a private exit.
Vanessa came.
Nicholas insisted too.
Roman objected.
Nicholas looked at him.
“My dad died for this.”
Roman could not say no.
Twenty minutes later, the convoy reached Canal Street.
Rain had slowed to mist.
Emily stepped onto the sidewalk where the night had begun.
She looked at the shuttered subway entrance.
A small stain remained near the wall where Thomas had been injured.
Roman stood beside her.
“You okay?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Me neither.”
Strangely, that helped.
Cross forced the old maintenance gate.
They descended.
Dark stairs.
Dust.
Old advertisements still clung to tiled walls.
The abandoned station smelled of damp concrete.
David led them to a service corridor.
At the far end sat a steel door.
Fresh blood marked the handle.
Vanessa whispered, “Thomas.”
Roman opened it.
A narrow tunnel descended.
They followed.
At the bottom was a chamber.
Thomas Vale lay against the wall.
Alive.
Barely conscious.
Roman rushed toward him.
“Thomas.”
Thomas opened his eyes.
“Too late.”
“What happened?”
“Victor.”
“Where?”
Thomas pointed toward another steel door.
“Inside.”
Emily looked.
Two keyholes.
One shaped for Nicholas’s silver key.
The other for David’s brass one.
But both locks were already open.
David went pale.
“That’s impossible.”
Roman looked at him.
“Why?”
David stared at the brass key still in his hand.
“Because only this key opens the second lock.”
Emily examined the door.
No damage.
No forced entry.
Someone had used another key.
A duplicate.
Roman looked toward David.
“Who else had one?”
David whispered:
“Salvatore.”
Roman’s father.
Dead five years.
Behind the steel door, something moved.
Roman stepped forward.
The door opened slowly.
Victor Sarto appeared.
And behind him, tied to a chair but alive, sat Conrad Sinclair.
Victor smiled.
“Welcome home.”
Then he raised something in his hand.
Another brass key.
Salvatore Moretti’s initials were engraved across it.
May you like
S.M.
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