Chapter 5 - Tommy’s Last Bargain
The gate opened halfway before Roman restored the emergency lock.
No one entered.
Whoever had been attempting remote access abandoned the effort within seconds.
But the message was clear.
Mercer Street was no longer secret.
By sunrise, Roman moved Chloe again.
This time he did not take her to another mansion or hidden apartment.
He took her to a small hotel near Kennedy Airport registered under Miriam Sloan’s law firm.
Two adjoining rooms.
One entrance.
A dozen ordinary tourists on the same floor.
“Why here?” Chloe asked.
“Because nobody expects Roman Vale to hide near a breakfast buffet.”
She looked at him.
“Are you joking?”
“Possibly.”
The attempt almost worked.
For thirty minutes they sat on opposite sides of a small table while Miriam copied Tommy’s notebook.
Dean slept in the other room under the supervision of two men Chloe had never met.
Roman trusted neither of them fully.
Chloe could tell.
Everything had changed after Gabriel’s phone call.
At eight twelve, Chloe received a call.
Not on her phone.
She still did not have one.
The call came through the hotel desk.
The receptionist knocked.
“Ms. Bennett? There’s somebody asking for you.”
Roman stood instantly.
“Nobody knows she’s here.”
The receptionist looked uncomfortable.
“He said she would understand if I said the coffee tin.”
Chloe went cold.
Tommy.
Roman watched her face.
“What is it?”
“Give me the phone.”
“Chloe—”
“The coffee tin was where I kept my money.”
Roman took the receiver first.
“Tommy?”
Silence.
Then Roman handed it to Chloe.
“He wants you.”
Chloe lifted the phone.
“Hello?”
For several seconds she heard only breathing.
Then Tommy spoke.
“Chlo.”
She closed her eyes.
That voice had once meant home.
Then it had meant tension.
Then apology.
Then fear.
Now it sounded small.
“Where are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Neither was yours.”
A pause.
“You’re with Vale.”
“Yes.”
“Jesus, Chloe.”
“Apparently everyone says that when Roman’s name comes up.”
Roman raised an eyebrow.
Tommy lowered his voice.
“You need to get away from him.”
“Interesting advice from the man whose friends chased me through an alley.”
“They weren’t supposed to hurt you.”
“You hit me.”
Silence.
Tommy whispered, “I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
“I messed up.”
“You have been ‘messing up’ for three years.”
“I’m sorry.”
Chloe looked through the window toward the airport highway.
“I don’t care anymore.”
That hurt him.
She could hear it.
And strangely, saying it hurt her less than she expected.
Tommy breathed out.
“Frank has me.”
Roman’s attention sharpened.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you see?”
“Nothing. Basement room. Concrete.”
Chloe looked at Roman.
He was already writing.
“Tommy, listen to me. Why did you call?”
“Frank gave me one call.”
“Why?”
“He wants the notebook.”
“What notebook?”
“The black one.”
Chloe looked at the table.
Roman mouthed: Keep him talking.
“What is Northstar?”
Silence.
“Tommy.”
“I shouldn’t have gotten you involved.”
“You did. So tell me.”
“Northstar is a package of originals.”
“What originals?”
“Vale documents. Property titles. Corporate certificates.”
Roman came closer.
Tommy continued.
“But it’s bigger than that.”
“How?”
“Frank’s been rewriting ownership through Marsten. Changing archived documents. Backdating transfers. Creating debts that never existed.”
Chloe’s accounting instincts kicked in.
“To make Vale companies appear insolvent?”
“Some. Others look like they were sold years ago.”
“To whom?”
“Northstar Holdings.”
Roman wrote the name.
Chloe said, “There’s a company called Northstar Holdings?”
“Not yet.”
“What?”
“It goes live on the eighteenth.”
The room became still.
Tommy spoke faster.
“All the pieces activate together. Frank gets controlling interests. Gabriel gets paid. People inside Marsten sign off. By the time anyone realizes, they’ll have court filings, titles, debts, tax records. Everything.”
“And the originals?”
“Prove it’s fake.”
“Where are they?”
Tommy started to answer.
A sound came through the phone.
A door opening.
Then Frank Russo’s voice.
“Time.”
Tommy breathed rapidly.
“Chloe.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
She gripped the receiver.
“Tommy, where are the originals?”
“Eleven eighteen isn’t just the date.”
“What?”
“The numbers.”
“What numbers?”
“Remember the first apartment?”
Chloe stared ahead.
The first apartment she and Tommy rented had been at 1118 Foster Avenue.
“Tommy—”
The phone changed hands.
A different man spoke.
Smooth.
Older.
“Miss Bennett.”
Roman reached for the receiver.
Chloe pulled it away.
“Frank?”
“I’m pleased you’re safe.”
“Really?”
“Tommy is emotional. He tends to create messes.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“I would like my notebook returned.”
“It isn’t yours.”
“Neither are the papers inside it.”
“What happens if I refuse?”
Frank sighed softly.
“I dislike ugly conversations.”
“Then don’t have one.”
Roman looked at her sharply.
Frank laughed.
“You’re stronger than Tommy described.”
“No. Tommy just needed me to believe I was weaker.”
Silence.
Roman’s gaze stayed on her.
Frank said, “Roman Vale cannot protect you forever.”
Chloe looked at Roman.
“He doesn’t need to.”
Another pause.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m done waiting for men to decide what happens to me.”
She hung up.
Her hand shook after.
Roman took the receiver gently and returned it to the hotel base.
“That was reckless.”
“I know.”
“It was also useful.”
“I know.”
Miriam looked up.
“Eleven eighteen.”
Chloe nodded.
“My first apartment with Tommy. 1118 Foster Avenue.”
Roman was already moving.
“Why would he reference it?”
“Maybe he hid something there.”
“Did Tommy still have access?”
“The landlord was his uncle.”
Roman picked up his coat.
Chloe did too.
He looked at her.
“No.”
She stared back.
Roman sighed.
“Fine.”
Foster Avenue was in Queens.
The building looked smaller than Chloe remembered.
Three floors.
Faded brick.
A grocery store beneath.
The old apartment was occupied by a retired teacher named Mrs. Alvarez, who recognized Chloe immediately.
“Oh, honey.”
Chloe smiled weakly.
“Hi.”
Mrs. Alvarez let them in after Roman introduced himself as “a family friend,” which made Chloe cough.
The apartment had changed.
Different paint.
Different furniture.
But the kitchen still had the crooked cabinet door Tommy always promised to fix.
“Where?” Roman asked.
Chloe thought.
Eleven eighteen isn’t just the date.
Remember the first apartment.
She walked to the bedroom.
Tommy had once punched a hole in the closet wall after losing a football bet.
Later he repaired it himself.
Badly.
Chloe touched the panel.
“Him.”
Roman removed it.
Inside the wall sat a weatherproof envelope.
Chloe’s name was written across the front.
Not Frank’s.
Not Roman’s.
Hers.
She opened it.
Inside was a flash drive and a handwritten note.
Chlo—
If you found this, I finally ran out of people willing to believe my lies.
I kept telling myself I was doing bad things because I had debts.
Then because Frank threatened me.
Then because leaving was dangerous.
Truth is, I liked feeling important until I realized important men always need someone disposable beneath them.
I’m sorry you became that person for me.
The drive contains everything I copied from Frank and Gabriel.
Don’t trust Marsten.
Don’t trust anyone with the initials G.K.
And if Vale is standing beside you, ask him what happened to his brother Michael.
Chloe stopped reading.
Roman had gone completely still.
“What?”
He looked away.
“Roman.”
Nothing.
“Who is Michael?”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“My younger brother.”
“What happened to him?”
Roman stared at the flash drive in Chloe’s hand.
“He died twelve years ago.”
Chloe looked down at Tommy’s note.
“How?”
Roman answered without emotion.
“A warehouse fire.”
The air left Chloe’s lungs.
“The house you said people thought burned down…”
Roman nodded.
“It was the same night.”
“And Gabriel?”
Roman’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Gabriel Kane was the last person to see Michael alive.”
Chloe stared at the flash drive.
Whatever Tommy had copied, it was no longer only about November eighteenth.
It reached twelve years backward.
To Roman’s dead brother.
To his father’s missing documents.
And perhaps to the reason Frank Russo and Gabriel Kane had believed for more than a decade that no old copies remained.
Roman took the drive.
Then stopped.
Instead of keeping it, he placed it back into Chloe’s palm.
“Your choice.”
She looked at him.
“You found it,” he said. “It has your name on it.”
Chloe closed her fingers around it.
For the first time, Roman Vale was asking permission before opening a door that could destroy his own life.
She nodded.
May you like
“Let’s find out what Tommy knew.”
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