Chapter 7 - The Eleven-Forty Trap
Victor Sarto had always loved certainty.
Roman remembered that about him.
At family dinners, Victor never guessed.
He knew.
He knew which prosecutor would run for office.
He knew which developer would sell.
He knew which politician could be persuaded.
He knew which friend would eventually become an enemy.
Certainty was his favorite weapon.
Which meant the best way to beat Victor was to let him become certain of the wrong thing.
Roman climbed from the elevator shaft alone.
Hands visible.
No weapon.
Victor stood thirty feet away beneath broken industrial lights.
At sixty-three, he remained immaculate.
Silver hair.
Charcoal suit.
Black overcoat.
He looked more appropriate for an opera than an abandoned warehouse.
Cross sat against a concrete pillar.
His hands were bound.
Blood ran from a cut over one eyebrow, but he appeared conscious.
Thomas Vale sat beside him.
Older.
Bruised.
Alive.
Three armed men stood around Victor.
Roman stopped.
“Where is Vanessa?”
Victor smiled.
“Still hiding below?”
Roman said nothing.
“And Emily Carter?”
Roman’s eyes hardened.
Victor laughed softly.
“Remarkable girl.”
“Woman.”
“Of course.”
Victor tilted his head.
“Though I remember her as a child.”
Roman’s pulse changed.
“You knew her.”
“I knew Edward.”
“Did you kill him?”
Victor sighed.
“So impatient.”
Roman took another step.
A guard raised his weapon.
Victor held up one finger.
“Not yet.”
Roman looked at Thomas.
“You okay?”
Thomas smiled weakly.
“I’ve been better.”
“Why wait three years?”
Thomas looked toward Victor.
“Because he watched everyone.”
Victor applauded once.
“Loyal to the end.”
Roman ignored him.
“Why tonight?”
Thomas answered.
“Because the engagement gave me one chance to put everyone in one building.”
Roman’s eyes moved to Victor.
“Everyone?”
Victor’s smile faded slightly.
Thomas continued.
“Victor. Vanessa. Conrad. Security. Moretti executives.”
Roman understood.
The eleven-forty evacuation had not been designed to murder him.
It was meant to flush the conspirators into movement where Thomas could identify who ran.
“Luca’s card?”
Thomas nodded.
“I kept it.”
Roman swallowed.
“His jacket?”
“Police returned the wrong property bag. I kept the real one before Victor could destroy it.”
Victor sounded bored.
“Sentimental.”
Thomas stared at him.
“You murdered him.”
Victor shrugged.
“I did not drive the car.”
Roman stepped forward.
“Who did?”
Victor’s eyes gleamed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The question you’ve been asking for three years.”
Roman’s hands curled.
“Answer.”
Victor smiled.
“No.”
A sound came from below.
Metal gate.
Victor turned.
Vanessa climbed from the shaft.
Emily followed several steps behind.
Roman felt irritation and fear at once.
He had told Emily to remain hidden.
Her expression told him she had ignored him deliberately.
Vanessa walked toward Victor.
“You said if I brought Roman, my father stays alive.”
Roman looked at her.
Excellent performance.
Victor smiled.
“Vanessa.”
She stopped beside him.
“Where is Dad?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“Do you really expect me to tell you?”
Vanessa looked at Roman.
Then back to Victor.
“I did what you asked.”
Victor studied her.
“You tore Thomas’s letter?”
“Yes.”
“Yet Roman reconstructed it.”
“Because of her.”
Vanessa pointed toward Emily.
Victor looked amused.
Emily forced herself not to step backward.
Victor’s gaze unsettled her in a way Roman’s never had.
Roman was dangerous because of power.
Victor was dangerous because people were objects to him.
“So,” Victor said, “Edward Carter’s daughter.”
Emily said nothing.
“I wondered what happened to you.”
“You could have checked a shelter.”
Victor smiled.
“Still sharp.”
Roman moved slightly closer to Emily.
Victor noticed.
Interesting.
“Roman,” Victor said, “you’ve known her less than an hour.”
“Your point?”
“You are standing as if she matters.”
“She does.”
Emily looked at him.
Roman didn’t.
Victor smiled wider.
“Dangerous habit.”
Emily answered before Roman could.
“Treating people like they matter?”
“No.”
Victor looked at her.
“Believing it.”
Vanessa shifted closer to Victor.
Her necklace microphone remained hidden.
She asked, “What happens now?”
Victor glanced toward the elevator shaft.
“You bring me Edward’s records.”
Emily said, “I don’t know where they are.”
Victor laughed.
“Your father was clever. Not that clever.”
“He hid them for twelve years.”
“Because nobody cared to search.”
The insult struck.
Emily took one step toward him.
Roman caught her wrist gently.
Not restraining.
Warning.
She stopped.
Victor continued.
“Edward could have lived.”
Emily stared.
“What?”
“He was offered money.”
Roman looked at Victor.
“By you?”
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
Victor shrugged.
“To tell the truth.”
Emily’s throat tightened.
“So you killed him.”
Victor’s expression remained calm.
“No.”
“Stop lying.”
“I rarely lie, Ms. Carter. I arrange facts.”
“Then arrange this one. Who killed my father?”
Victor looked toward Thomas.
“Ask him.”
Emily turned.
Thomas closed his eyes.
Roman immediately noticed.
“Thomas?”
The older man looked devastated.
“Edward didn’t die the way you were told.”
Emily’s breathing stopped.
“What does that mean?”
Thomas struggled against the restraints.
“He survived the warehouse accident.”
Emily shook her head.
“No.”
“He was alive when the ambulance took him.”
Victor smiled.
Roman saw the cruelty coming.
“Don’t,” Roman warned.
Victor ignored him.
“Edward Carter died six hours later.”
Emily stared.
“Where?”
Victor answered.
“In a private clinic.”
“Why?”
“Because he had copied records.”
Emily began to shake.
Roman stepped beside her.
Victor continued.
“Your father refused to reveal where.”
Emily’s eyes filled.
“You tortured him?”
Roman’s voice became lethal.
“Victor.”
Victor looked at him.
“No graphic dramatics, Roman. We pressured him. He refused. His heart failed.”
Emily closed her eyes.
Her father had died protecting evidence.
Protecting his family.
Protecting people he did not even know.
She breathed slowly.
Roman expected her to collapse.
Instead she asked:
“Were you there?”
Victor smiled.
“Yes.”
Vanessa’s necklace recorded every word.
Roman noticed the tiny indicator beneath the diamond clasp blink.
Victor did not.
Emily looked at him.
“Did Conrad Sinclair know?”
Victor glanced at Vanessa.
“He arrived afterward.”
Vanessa’s face tightened.
“Dad saw Edward?”
“He signed the report.”
“To protect himself?”
“To protect all of us.”
Roman asked, “Including my father?”
Victor looked delighted.
“At last.”
Roman’s blood went cold.
“Salvatore was there?”
“No.”
Roman felt a small relief.
Victor destroyed it.
“But Salvatore knew.”
Silence.
Roman whispered, “How much?”
“Enough.”
“And Luca?”
“Luca discovered the payments.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
Victor continued.
“He came here three years ago with Thomas.”
“What happened?”
Victor’s smile faded.
“Luca gave me an ultimatum.”
“What ultimatum?”
“Confess to you or he would.”
Roman looked at Thomas.
Thomas nodded.
“He gave Victor twenty-four hours.”
Roman closed his eyes.
Luca had tried to resolve it privately.
To protect the family.
Victor continued.
“He was very much like you.”
Roman stared.
“Do not compare us.”
“Loyal to people who didn’t deserve it.”
Roman stepped forward.
The guard raised his weapon again.
Victor smiled.
“Careful.”
Vanessa suddenly said, “Tell him about the car.”
Victor looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because this is over.”
Victor laughed.
“No, darling. It isn’t.”
Vanessa touched the necklace.
The light blinked.
Victor saw it.
His smile vanished.
He grabbed the chain.
Vanessa stepped back.
Too late.
Victor ripped the necklace away.
“A recorder?”
Vanessa looked him directly in the eyes.
“Yes.”
Victor raised his hand.
Roman moved instantly.
But before anyone reached her, the warehouse lights went out.
Total darkness.
Emily heard shouting.
A crash.
Footsteps.
Cross yelling.
Then Roman’s hand found hers.
“Emily.”
“I’m here.”
“Stay with me.”
A gunshot cracked somewhere in the warehouse.
Then another.
Emergency lights flickered.
When they came on, Victor’s men were running toward the rear exit.
Cross had freed one hand.
Thomas was on the floor.
Vanessa stood near the pillar.
Victor was gone.
Roman looked toward the open warehouse door.
A black vehicle sped away.
Cross shouted, “He took the recorder!”
Vanessa shook her head.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
She held up a tiny memory chip between two fingers.
“The necklace was only the transmitter.”
Roman stared.
Vanessa gave a shaky smile.
“The recording uploads automatically.”
Cross exhaled.
“Where?”
Vanessa’s expression changed.
“To my father.”
The relief disappeared.
Because Conrad Sinclair—the man who had helped bury Edward Carter’s death—now possessed Victor Sarto’s confession.
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And nobody knew which side Conrad would choose.
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