Chapter 7 - The Mastermind's Gambit
Adrien walked over to the desk, pressing the speaker button on the encrypted satellite phone.
“Speak,” Adrien commanded, his voice dead calm.
A raspy, wet cough sounded through the speaker, followed by the slow, arrogant voice of an old man who had spent sixty years ordering executions from the shadows.
“Adrien,” Frank Moretti said, his tone dripping with fake affection. “You always were as headstrong as your father. Running through subway tunnels with Clara’s little girl... it’s quite a dramatic spectacle.”
“You’re out of time, Frank,” Adrien replied coldly. “Your hit teams are dead. Your asset, Marcus Blake, is running for his life. And I have the girl.”
Moretti chuckled, a dry, rattling sound that made my skin crawl. “You have the girl, yes. But do you have the ledger, Adrien? Do you know where Clara hid the key to our entire kingdom?”
“I don't need the ledger to kill you,” Adrien said.
“Ah, but you do,” Moretti countered smoothly. “Because as we speak, my lawyers are filing a formal petition with the state supreme court to unseal the asset forfeiture records of your private club, your legitimate shipping companies, and your personal bank accounts. By eight o'clock tomorrow morning, every federal agency in the country will freeze your assets. You’ll be penniless, hunted, and powerless to protect anyone.”
I stepped closer to the phone, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Why are you doing this?” I demanded, my voice trembling with rage. “My mother is dead! She’s been gone for fourteen years! Leave me alone!”
Silence hung on the line for three agonizing seconds.
“Ah... the daughter speaks,” Moretti said softly. “You sound just like her, Lena. So innocent. So hopelessly naive. Do you really believe your mother died in a car accident in 2012?”
I froze, the room suddenly spinning around me. “What are you talking about?”
“Clara didn't die in a car accident, my dear,” Moretti purred through the speaker. “Car accidents are so untidy. Your mother lived in a private care facility in Vermont until three months ago... when she finally succumbed to her illness. But before she died, she sent me a letter. A letter telling me where she left her legacy.”
“You’re lying,” I choked out, tears stinging my eyes.
“Am I?” Moretti rasped. “Ask yourself, Lena... why did your mother always insist you wear that silver locket around your neck? The one she gave you on your seventh birthday?”
My hand flew reflexively to my collarbone.
Underneath Adrien’s heavy wool coat, resting against my bare skin, was a simple, tarnished silver heart locket my mother had placed around my neck when I was a child. I had never taken it off.
Adrien’s eyes dropped to my hand, his expression shifting into one of profound shock.
“The key isn't a book, is it, Frank?” Adrien whispered, realization dawning on him like a thunderclap.
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“Smart boy,” Moretti laughed. “The ledger isn't written on paper. It’s a digital drive encrypted with a twenty-four-digit key... and the hardware is sitting right around the girl’s neck. Bring her to the iron works in Queens by sunrise, Adrien. Or I start executing every person who ever took a dollar of your family’s money.”
The line went dead with a sharp click.
