Chapter 6 - Someone Inside the House
The apartment in Astoria looked exactly the way grief had left it.
Mara had moved out two months after her mother died, unable to afford both the rent and the medical debt attached to Elaine’s final year. The landlord had allowed her to keep several boxes in the storage room while a new tenant took the apartment upstairs.
The cedar chest remained downstairs.
At 10:36 p.m., Mara stood in the building’s basement beside Viktor Kovacs while Anton and another security officer checked every hallway.
“This is where you grew up?” Viktor asked.
“From age nine.”
He looked around.
Bare pipes.
Old concrete.
One flickering fluorescent light.
“Different from Kovacs Tower?”
“A little.”
“My childhood home had worse plumbing.”
Mara looked at him.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I grew up in a two-bedroom apartment above a bakery in Budapest until I was twelve.”
That did not match the image she had constructed.
“What changed?”
“My father became successful.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?”
Viktor looked at her.
“No.”
That single word carried more history than she expected.
The landlord unlocked the storage cage.
“Mara, you’re lucky I didn’t throw all this away.”
“I know, Mr. Alvarez.”
His eyes shifted to Viktor and the security men.
“You bringing movers?”
“Something like that.”
Mr. Alvarez left quickly.
Mara stepped inside.
Boxes filled the space.
Christmas ornaments.
Books.
Her mother’s winter coats.
Three ceramic birds wrapped in newspaper.
Then she saw the cedar chest.
Same brass corners.
Same scratched lid.
Ilona had brought it from Hungary.
Mara knelt.
The old lock required a key.
She searched beneath the lip of the frame where her grandmother always hid it.
Nothing.
“Missing?” Viktor asked.
“Yes.”
She sat back.
“My mother knew the hiding place.”
“So did anyone who watched her.”
Mara looked toward the doorway.
“Can you open it?”
Anton stepped forward.
“Without damaging it?”
“Preferably.”
He examined the lock.
“Give me a minute.”
Mara stood.
Viktor remained several feet away.
Not crowding her.
That surprised her too.
“You don’t have to stay,” she said.
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“I know.”
She folded her arms.
“Why do you care whether we find this?”
“Because Pierce wants it.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It affects the council.”
“Still not the whole answer.”
Viktor looked at the cedar chest.
“My father died believing he had protected our family.”
“From Pierce?”
“From consequences.”
Mara waited.
“He left me an empire full of agreements made by frightened men and obligations created before I was old enough to understand them.”
“You inherited his enemies.”
“And his mistakes.”
“So fix them.”
“That is what I have spent ten years trying to do.”
She searched his face.
The feared Viktor Kovacs suddenly looked tired.
Not weak.
Tired.
“How?”
“I separated companies. Closed businesses that existed only because of intimidation. Settled disputes my father preferred to escalate. Moved assets into legitimate operations.”
“And the rest?”
“Some things cannot be changed quickly without hurting people who never chose to be involved.”
Mara looked away.
“That sounds convenient.”
“It is not meant to.”
Anton clicked the lock.
The chest opened.
Mara’s breath caught.
Inside lay folded linens, Ilona’s prayer book, photographs, letters tied with ribbon, and a tin box decorated with faded blue flowers.
Mara recognized it.
Her grandmother kept important papers there.
Birth certificates.
Immigration records.
Family letters.
She lifted the lid.
Empty.
Mara stared.
“No.”
She searched beneath the lining.
Nothing.
“Someone got here first,” Anton said.
Mara shook her head.
“No. My mother would never leave this empty.”
She pulled everything out.
Letters.
Photographs.
An old scarf.
A Hungarian Bible.
No document.
Viktor crouched opposite her.
“What would Elaine do if she believed someone might search the chest?”
Mara thought.
Her mother hated banks.
Distrusted digital storage.
Believed hiding places worked best when they looked ordinary.
Mara picked up the prayer book.
Pages fluttered.
Nothing.
Then Viktor noticed something.
“This photograph.”
He held it out.
Elaine at approximately twenty-five.
Ilona beside her.
Between them stood a younger man.
Mara did not recognize him.
Viktor did.
“Andras.”
Mara stared.
“My mother knew your uncle.”
“Apparently much better than either of us knew.”
On the back, written in Ilona’s hand, were six Hungarian words.
Mara translated slowly.
“When the house becomes unsafe, trust the library.”
Her heart jumped.
“The library.”
“Your mother was a librarian.”
“Yes.”
“Which library?”
“She worked at Queens Public Library for almost thirty years.”
Anton’s phone rang.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“Viktor.”
“What?”
“We have an issue.”
Anton looked at Mara.
“The Sterling House security system was breached again.”
“Daniel?”
“Missing.”
Mara stood.
“What do you mean missing?”
“He left the restaurant ten minutes ago. His phone is off.”
“No.”
“Camera shows him entering a car.”
“Whose?”
Anton turned the screen.
Mara recognized the man standing beside the vehicle.
Sebastian Pierce.
Viktor swore under his breath.
Mara’s stomach dropped.
“Daniel went willingly?”
“It appears so.”
“No.”
She watched again.
Daniel emerged from Sterling House.
Saw Pierce.
Stopped.
Then walked toward him.
Before entering the car, Daniel looked directly at the security camera.
And lifted one hand.
Three fingers.
Mara stared.
Viktor asked, “What?”
She replayed it.
Three fingers.
“Daniel and I have a code.”
“For what?”
“When restaurant guests complain within earshot. One finger means angry. Two means leave. Three means call for help.”
Viktor’s expression sharpened.
“Daniel was not leaving willingly.”
“No.”
Anton was already moving.
“Vehicle plate is being tracked.”
Mara grabbed her coat.
Viktor stopped her.
“You stay.”
“No.”
“This is not a restaurant argument.”
“He is my friend.”
“And Pierce may be expecting you to follow.”
“Then he’ll be disappointed if I don’t.”
Viktor stared at her.
“You are impossible.”
“People keep telling me that tonight.”
He looked toward Anton.
“Two vehicles.”
Mara followed.
Behind them, forgotten for the moment, the open cedar chest remained beneath the basement light.
A breeze from the hallway stirred the old photograph.
It slid from the box.
Landed facedown.
And revealed something neither Mara nor Viktor had noticed.
Beneath the photograph, hidden under yellowed tape, was a tiny brass key.
Stamped with one number.
May you like
314.
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