Chapter 5 - What My Mother Saw That Night
By sunrise, my four-thousand-dollar gown was wrinkled, my feet hurt, and my understanding of my family had completely collapsed.
My mother sat in Larkin's townhouse holding untouched coffee.
Thomas had arrived twenty minutes earlier.
Nobody trusted anybody.
It felt strangely appropriate.
"Tell me everything," I said.
Mom stared into her cup.
"Twenty-eight years ago, Nathan discovered Carbone was stealing money. Alexander Steves agreed to help him expose it."
Larkin leaned forward.
"My father knew?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't he expose Carbone himself?"
"Because your uncle controlled the organization then. Alexander had influence, but not enough."
Mom explained that Nathan and Alexander copied the financial records and separated the access information.
One piece went to my mother.
One to Alexander.
The originals were hidden beneath Mercer Station.
"Carbone discovered the plan," Mom continued.
"How?" Thomas asked.
"We never learned."
Her hands trembled.
"That night, Nathan told me to meet him at Mercer Station."
She closed her eyes.
"I was pregnant with Penelope."
My throat tightened.
"When I arrived, Nathan was arguing with someone."
"Carbone?"
"No."
She looked at Larkin.
"Your uncle."
Larkin's jaw hardened.
"They fought?"
"They argued. Your uncle demanded the records. Nathan refused."
"What happened?"
"Carbone arrived."
Silence.
"He accused Nathan of stealing. Your uncle believed him."
Mom swallowed.
"Then Alexander came."
Larkin looked shaken.
"Four men?"
"Yes."
"What did my father do?"
"He sided with Nathan."
For the first time, something like pride appeared on Larkin's face.
Mom continued.
"Alexander helped Nathan escape through a maintenance tunnel. He told me to go home and never contact either of them again."
"And Dad?"
"He disappeared."
"You knew he lived."
"I knew he escaped."
"That's not the same thing."
"No."
She looked at me.
"I didn't know whether he survived afterward. Years later, I received a birthday card."
"When?"
"When you turned five."
My eyes burned.
"What did it say?"
"That he loved us."
"Did he send others?"
She nodded.
"Every few years."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because every contact was dangerous."
I stood.
I couldn't sit anymore.
"You decided for me."
"You were a child."
"I'm twenty-eight now."
"I know."
"You had ten years after I became an adult."
Tears filled her eyes.
"I was afraid."
That stopped me.
My mother wasn't a criminal mastermind.
She wasn't a woman who enjoyed secrets.
She was afraid.
For decades.
I sat again.
Larkin spoke quietly.
"What's your half of the code?"
Mom looked at him.
"I memorized it."
She wrote eight characters on a piece of paper.
Combined with the numbers from Alexander's watch, they formed a fifteen-character sequence.
Thomas whistled.
"Whatever is under Mercer Station must be important."
"It could destroy Carbone," Mom said.
"And others?"
"Possibly."
Larkin looked at me.
"If we retrieve it, everything changes."
"For whom?"
"Everyone."
"Good."
He studied me.
"You're certain?"
"No."
That surprised him.
"I'm terrified."
I took a breath.
"But I'm tired of being afraid of information."
Something softened in his expression.
At nine that morning, we entered the office building above the abandoned station.
Larkin had purchased temporary access from the property owner.
Of course he had.
Money apparently solved architectural problems.
Thomas joined us.
So did my mother.
The old station beneath the building smelled like dust and concrete.
We found locker 314 behind a rusted service door.
A keypad waited beside it.
I entered both halves of the code.
Red light.
Nothing.
Thomas frowned.
"Wrong code?"
My mother shook her head.
Then I noticed the old watch.
"Maybe the sequence isn't just the numbers."
Larkin handed it to me.
The hands were stopped.
8:15.
My heart skipped.
8:15.
The exact time I had delivered Larkin's coffee every morning for three years.
Coincidence.
Obviously.
Still, I entered 0815 after the sequence.
Green.
The lock clicked.
Thomas stared at Larkin.
"Your father had a sense of drama."
"He would've hated you."
"Most people eventually do."
Inside was a metal case.
Larkin carried it to an old bench.
We opened it.
Documents.
Ledger books.
Photographs.
Microfilm.
And dozens of cassette tapes.
Thomas lifted one.
"Ancient technology."
Mom took it.
Her face changed.
"That's Nathan's handwriting."
A portable recorder was inside the case.
We inserted the tape.
Static.
Then my father's younger voice filled the abandoned station.
"My name is Nathan Vale. If you're hearing this, something happened to me."
My mother covered her mouth.
The recording continued.
Nathan described Carbone's financial scheme.
Dates.
Accounts.
Companies.
Then another name.
Someone who had secretly protected Carbone.
Larkin's uncle.
Thomas whispered a curse.
The recording continued.
"Alexander Steves has agreed to help expose them. If Alexander dies before this becomes public, assume his death was not natural."
Larkin froze.
His father had supposedly died of a heart condition.
He looked at me.
I understood.
This wasn't only my family's mystery anymore.
It was his.
We listened further.
Then Nathan said something stranger.
"Carbone has someone inside the next generation. I don't know who."
Thomas and Larkin exchanged looks.
Next generation.
One of them?
The tape clicked off.
Then we heard applause.
Slow.
Deliberate.
From the tunnel behind us.
Vincent Carbone stepped into the dim station.
He wasn't alone.
But there were no guns drawn, no dramatic attack.
He simply smiled.
"Twenty-eight years," he said. "And Elizabeth finally opened the box."
Larkin stepped between him and us.
Carbone raised both hands.
"I'm not here to fight."
"What do you want?" Larkin asked.
"The same thing everyone here wants."
He looked at me.
"The truth."
I laughed bitterly.
"You've spent twenty-eight years hiding it."
"No, Penelope."
Carbone's smile faded.
"I've spent twenty-eight years hiding from it."
He reached into his jacket slowly.
Larkin's security men tensed.
Carbone removed an envelope.
He handed it to me.
Inside was a DNA report.
I stared at the names.
My mother gasped.
Thomas stopped breathing.
Larkin read over my shoulder.
Then he looked at Carbone.
"This is fake."
Carbone shook his head.
"No."
I stared at the paper again.
Nathan Vale wasn't the only name.
There was another.
Alexander Steves.
And according to the report, the relationship between our families was far closer than anyone had ever told us.
But before I could understand it, my mother whispered:
"Oh God."
I turned.
She wasn't looking at the DNA report.
She was looking at Thomas.
May you like
And Thomas had gone completely pale.
Because apparently Thomas already knew exactly what the DNA report meant.
