Chapter 4 - The Two Dead Men Who Were Never DeadBy morning, Vincent had turned the entire Moretti network upside down.
Arthur Bell.
Christopher Vale.
Dominic Romano.
Three names.
Three deaths.
Three lies.
Charlotte sat at the kitchen island in Vincent's private residence eating cereal while grown men moved around her carrying guns and telephones.
It was the strangest morning of her life.
Vincent walked over.
“Your mother called again.”
Charlotte looked up.
“She's alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“She wouldn't say.”
“Why?”
“She wants to meet me first.”
Charlotte frowned.
“Why you?”
Vincent sat across from her.
“Because she doesn't trust the men around me.”
Charlotte remembered her mother's words.
“That's what she said.”
Vincent smiled.
“What else did she say?”
“That if you laugh, you still don't understand.”
He smiled.
“She knows me.”
“Did you know her?”
“No.”
“You loved her?”
Vincent looked startled.
“No.”
Charlotte took another bite of cereal.
“Adults are strange.”
Vincent laughed.
A real laugh this time.
And outside the doorway, one of his men looked uncomfortable.
Vincent noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Speak.”
“The last time you laughed like that was before Dominic died.”
Vincent's face changed.
Charlotte sensed the sadness.
She reached across the table.
“Dominic was your friend.”
“Yes.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Every day.”
“Then maybe that's why he left the recorder.”
Vincent looked at her.
Maybe.
That afternoon, Evelyn agreed to meet.
She arrived at a quiet church.
Charlotte ran to her.
Her mother dropped to her knees.
“Baby.”
They held each other.
Vincent stood nearby.
Evelyn looked at him.
“You look like your father.”
Vincent frowned.
“My father?”
“Angelo.”
She took a shaky breath.
“He wasn't always a monster.”
Vincent watched her carefully.
“Tell me about Christopher.”
“He loved you.”
Vincent shook his head.
“Don't change the subject.”
Evelyn smiled sadly.
“Christopher loved Dominic too.”
“Then why did everyone pretend they hated each other?”
“Because Orpheus required enemies.”
Vincent frowned.
“What is Orpheus?”
“A machine.”
“A network.”
“A secret.”
She looked at Charlotte.
“It started with your grandfather.”
Vincent went still.
“Angelo.”
“Yes.”
“What did he build?”
“A system that could manipulate judges, bankers, police officials, politicians, doctors.”
“Why?”
“Control.”
Evelyn continued.
“Christopher discovered it.”
“So he tried to expose it.”
“Yes.”
“And Dominic helped him.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did Dominic become a mafia boss?”
Evelyn looked down.
“Because someone had to control the organization long enough to dismantle it.”
Vincent stared.
“Dominic wasn't building power.”
“No.”
“He was destroying it from inside.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Slowly.”
Charlotte listened.
“Why was I important?”
Evelyn's face broke.
“Because when you were born, your father discovered the final key to Orpheus had been transferred into a family inheritance.”
Vincent frowned.
“What key?”
“Your bloodline.”
Charlotte looked confused.
“I don't have a key.”
Evelyn smiled.
“You were born with something else.”
“What?”
“The ability to access the original archive.”
Vincent understood.
The hospital bracelet.
The records.
The brass key.
The red ribbon.
Everything was connected.
Evelyn reached into her purse.
She handed him a photograph.
Dominic.
Christopher.
Evelyn.
And baby Charlotte.
“Dominic gave me one instruction.”
“What?”
“If he died, I was to give Charlotte to the man who still believed loyalty meant protecting people instead of controlling them.”
Vincent stared.
“That's why you chose me.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Dominic trusted you.”
Then Charlotte pointed at the photograph.
“Who's that man?”
A figure stood in the background.
Arthur Bell.
Alive.
Vincent's face hardened.
Evelyn whispered:
“He's the one who killed Dominic.”
“Then why did Dominic say he wasn't dead?”
“Because he didn't know what Bell had planned.”
Vincent's phone rang.
Marcus.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found Bell.”
“Where?”
“Long Island.”
Vincent stood.
“Address.”
Marcus gave it.
Vincent looked at Evelyn.
“Can you keep Charlotte safe?”
Evelyn nodded.
But Charlotte grabbed his sleeve.
“I want to come.”
“No.”
“My mother said I should stay with you.”
Vincent looked at Evelyn.
She nodded reluctantly.
“He'll protect her.”
They drove to Long Island.
Bell's house looked abandoned.
Snow covered the driveway.
Vincent entered with six men.
Nothing.
No movement.
Then a television switched on.
Dominic appeared on screen.
Vincent froze.
The recording was not from the recorder.
It was live.
Or almost live.
Dominic stood in a dark room.
“If you're watching this, Vincent, you've reached the final stage.”
Vincent whispered, “Dominic?”
The image flickered.
Dominic continued.
“Bell thinks he's won.”
Then a man stepped into the frame.
Arthur Bell.
Alive.
Very much alive.
He looked at the camera.
“You always were stubborn, Dominic.”
Vincent stared.
“What the hell?”
Bell smiled.
“Vincent Moretti.”
“Where is Dominic?”
Bell's smile faded.
“He's dead.”
“Then why are you speaking with him?”
“Because the recording was made before his death.”
“By whom?”
Bell smiled.
“By the man you're going to meet tonight.”
Vincent's blood chilled.
“Who?”
The camera shifted.
A door opened.
A man entered.
Older.
Scarred.
Alive.
Christopher Vale.
Charlotte saw him.
She whispered:
“Daddy?”
May you like
The man turned toward the camera.
And for the first time in twelve years, the dead man heard his daughter's voice.
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