Chapter 4 - The Man Dominic Trusted Most
Dominic read the note once.
Then he became terrifyingly calm.
Marco had seen that calm before.
It meant Dominic had moved beyond anger.
“Who knew she was with you?” Marco asked.
“Very few people.”
“Vincent?”
“He knew someone was in the penthouse.”
“That may have been enough.”
Dominic picked up Julian’s medal.
A faint smear of blood marked one edge.
Hannah’s?
One of the guards?
He did not know.
“What ledger do they think I have?” Dominic asked.
Marco shook his head.
“Julian’s master ledger.”
“But I don’t have it.”
“They don’t know that.”
Dominic looked at the cardboard box.
“Then we make them believe I do.”
They returned to Dominic’s hidden warehouse.
Samuel Ellis was already there with documents spread across three tables.
When Dominic explained what had happened, Samuel went pale.
“We should call federal authorities.”
“No.”
“Dominic, they kidnapped a woman and a child.”
“And some of the people involved may be federal.”
Samuel stopped.
Dominic pointed to Julian’s flash drive.
“Open it.”
The drive was encrypted.
Samuel worked for nineteen minutes before the screen filled with directories.
Thousands of files.
Shipping records.
Personnel lists.
Insurance claims.
Death certificates.
Payments.
One folder was named ST. AGNES.
Samuel opened it.
The room fell silent.
One hundred seventeen names.
All people officially declared dead.
Beside each name:
New identity.
New payroll number.
Assigned corporation.
Current status.
Dominic scrolled.
Dockworkers.
Accountants.
Customs contractors.
Former Caruso employees.
Then he saw:
JULIAN CARUSO.
STATUS: TRANSFERRED.
NEW IDENTITY: REDACTED.
Dominic leaned closer.
“Transferred where?”
Samuel opened linked documents.
Nothing.
All destination data had been wiped.
Marco swore quietly.
“Keep searching.”
They opened Vincent’s name.
Nothing.
Then Marco’s.
Nothing.
Then Dominic’s.
A file appeared.
Dominic Caruso.
Projected status: PENDING.
Samuel stared.
“What does pending mean?”
Marco understood first.
“They were planning to replace you.”
Dominic looked at him.
“With a dead identity?”
“No.”
Marco’s face went gray.
“With someone who could control the company after you were dead.”
The implication was obvious.
Lazarus was not merely smuggling.
It was succession planning.
People could disappear.
Deaths could be fabricated.
Companies inherited.
Accounts transferred.
Power moved invisibly.
Dominic thought of his father.
“Search Antonio Caruso.”
Samuel did.
A file appeared.
Antonio Caruso.
Date of death: twelve years earlier.
Status: CLOSED.
Beneficiary authorization: VR-01.
Vincent Rizzo.
Dominic stared at the screen.
“My father.”
Marco looked away.
Dominic’s father had officially died of a heart attack at fifty-eight.
Perhaps it had been natural.
Perhaps not.
Dominic felt the foundations of his entire life shifting.
His secure phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Dominic.”
Vincent.
“Where are Hannah and Grace?”
Vincent sighed.
“So you know.”
“I know enough.”
“No. You know fragments.”
“Give them back.”
“Bring me Julian’s ledger.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Then find it.”
Dominic’s voice became quiet.
“If either of them is hurt—”
“Don’t threaten me like a child.”
Vincent sounded almost disappointed.
“I taught you better.”
The sentence burned.
“Where’s Julian?”
Silence.
Then:
“Still asking the wrong question.”
“What’s the right one?”
Vincent replied, “Why did your brother decide you were too dangerous to know the truth?”
The line disconnected.
Dominic slammed the phone onto the table.
Marco stared.
“What did he mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Samuel cleared his throat.
“Maybe Julian’s letter says more.”
They returned to the papers.
Page three contained instructions.
Dominic had skimmed them during the confrontation.
Now he read every word.
The master ledger is not digital.
I stopped trusting computers.
I placed it where Dominic would never willingly look, but where he would understand once he did.
Ask Mom what she saved from Brooklyn.
Dominic froze.
His mother.
Elena Caruso.
She lived alone in Connecticut.
Dominic had not visited for four months.
He called.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
He was moving before the second call ended.
Elena’s house sat on ten private acres.
Dominic’s SUV tore into the driveway forty-seven minutes later.
The front door stood open.
“Mom?”
No answer.
Dominic entered with his weapon drawn.
Kitchen empty.
Living room empty.
Then he heard music.
Old Frank Sinatra.
Coming from the sunroom.
Elena Caruso sat beside the window drinking tea.
“Put that gun away,” she said.
Dominic stared.
“You didn’t answer your phone.”
“I was reading.”
“The front door was open.”
“The weather is beautiful.”
“Someone kidnapped a baby.”
Elena slowly lowered her cup.
“What baby?”
Dominic placed Julian’s medal on the table.
His mother’s face changed instantly.
“Where did you get that?”
“Julian’s daughter.”
Elena stood.
For several seconds she could not speak.
“My Julian had a child?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Taken.”
Elena covered her mouth.
Dominic had not seen his mother cry since the funeral.
“Her name is Grace.”
Elena sank back into her chair.
“Grace.”
Then she looked at Dominic.
“Taken by whom?”
“Probably Vincent.”
The grief disappeared.
Something else replaced it.
Recognition.
Dominic saw it.
“You knew.”
Elena said nothing.
“You knew something about Vincent.”
“Dominic—”
“What did Julian leave here?”
Her eyes widened.
“How did you know?”
“Mom.”
Elena stood slowly.
“Come with me.”
She led him upstairs.
Into a storage room.
Boxes from their old Brooklyn apartment filled one wall.
Children’s books.
School trophies.
Photographs.
Then Elena pulled down a battered metal box.
“Julian gave me this three days before he died.”
Dominic’s pulse increased.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He made me promise.”
“I buried him.”
“I know.”
“I buried an empty coffin while you kept his secrets.”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
She opened the box.
Inside sat an old chessboard.
Dominic recognized it immediately.
He and Julian had played on it as boys.
“Julian said you would understand.”
Dominic lifted the board.
Nothing.
Then he remembered.
When they were children, Julian always hid money beneath the black queen because Dominic refused to choose that piece.
Dominic removed it.
Inside the hollow wooden base was a rolled strip of microfilm and a tiny brass cylinder.
“The ledger,” Elena whispered.
Dominic stared.
Behind them, a floorboard creaked.
He turned.
Vincent stood in the doorway.
A pistol pointed directly at Elena.
“You were always the smarter brother,” Vincent said.
Dominic’s hand moved toward his coat.
“Don’t.”
Vincent pressed the gun closer to Elena’s head.
“Put the chess piece down.”
Dominic obeyed.
“Where are Hannah and Grace?”
“Safe.”
“Let them go.”
“Give me the ledger.”
Dominic stared at the man who had known him since childhood.
“You killed my father?”
Vincent’s expression barely changed.
“Your father killed himself slowly. I merely chose not to interfere.”
“And Julian?”
“Alive when I last saw him.”
Dominic’s heart pounded.
“When?”
“Eighteen months ago.”
“Where did you send him?”
Vincent smiled faintly.
“That is what your ledger can tell you.”
Dominic looked at the chess piece.
Then back at Vincent.
“You don’t know what’s inside.”
“No.”
“That terrifies you.”
For the first time, Vincent’s smile vanished.
Dominic understood.
Vincent did not need the ledger because it contained money.
He needed it because Julian had documented everything.
Dominic picked it up.
“You want this?”
“Yes.”
“Then Grace first.”
“Not how this works.”
“It is now.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Dominic, you are still thinking like a businessman.”
“No.”
Dominic’s voice lowered.
“I’m thinking like an uncle.”
A shot exploded downstairs.
Vincent turned instinctively.
Dominic lunged.
The two men crashed into the wall.
Elena screamed.
The gun fired into the ceiling.
Dominic drove Vincent backward, but Vincent struck him with the weapon and broke free.
Outside came more gunfire.
Vincent ran.
Dominic followed him onto the balcony.
A helicopter rose beyond the trees.
Vincent jumped aboard.
Dominic raised his weapon but could not get a clear shot.
The helicopter disappeared.
Marco appeared downstairs moments later.
“We tracked him here.”
“You were late.”
“Story of my life.”
Dominic opened his hand.
The chess piece was gone.
Vincent had taken it.
Marco swore.
Dominic smiled.
“What?”
“He took the wrong one.”
Dominic reached into his pocket.
The brass cylinder.
“He took the microfilm.”
“What’s in that?”
Dominic unscrewed the cylinder.
Inside was a tiny folded note.
One address.
And beneath it, Julian had written:
THEY WILL TAKE THE LEDGER.
LET THEM.
THE TRUTH IS WAITING HERE.
Dominic read the address.
Marco looked over his shoulder.
His face went pale.
“No.”
“You recognize it?”
Marco nodded.
“It’s an abandoned Caruso shipping terminal in Brooklyn.”
“So?”
Marco stared at him.
“That terminal burned down eighteen months ago.”
Dominic understood immediately.
“When?”
May you like
Marco swallowed.
“The same night Julian supposedly died.”
