Chapter 6 - The Mafia Boss's Uncle Offered Him a Choice Between Saving Three Women and Learning Who Murdered His Mother
Julian Bellamy had never raised his voice at Nicholas.
Not when Nicholas refused to join his father's most violent businesses.
Not when he closed the organization's illegal collection division.
Not even when he removed several longtime associates from their positions and ordered a financial review.
Julian had always smiled, adjusted his expensive cuff links, and described Nicholas as an idealistic young man who would eventually understand how the world worked.
For fifteen years, Nicholas interpreted that patience as loyalty.
Now, standing in a hospital corridor with evidence that his uncle had been meeting Silas Voss at Harbor Point, he understood it differently.
Julian had not been waiting for Nicholas to mature.
He had been waiting for him to become useful.
Agent Ortiz ended another telephone call.
"Federal teams are moving toward the estate," she announced. "We also have officers checking the airport and nearby marinas."
Nicholas looked at the photographs recovered from the flower shop.
"Julian owns several private aircraft."
"We know."
"He also controls a yacht registered through a holding company in Bermuda."
"Give me the registration."
Nicholas provided it immediately.
Megan watched him.
He no longer looked like the intimidating stranger who had waited above her hiding place.
He looked like a man forcing himself to examine every lie he'd been taught.
"What happens if they arrest Julian?" she asked.
Ortiz turned.
"He'll have an opportunity to obtain counsel. Then prosecutors will determine the charges supported by the evidence."
"And the women?"
"Finding them is our priority."
Megan nodded.
But the answer did little to quiet her anxiety.
She thought about Olivia.
The dark-haired woman in the red coat.
The way she'd begged Tessa not to reveal that she had worked at the shop.
The way she'd left evidence behind, apparently knowing she might not survive.
Megan wanted Olivia to have the same chance she had been given.
A locked door.
A warm cup of tea.
The simple ability to decide what happened next.
Moren sat nearby holding the photograph of her sister.
Her fingers traced Lidia's face.
"She would be sixty-three now," Moren whispered.
Nicholas sat beside her.
"I'm sorry."
Moren shook her head.
"You didn't know."
"I should have."
"I spent twenty-three years living in your family home. I didn't know either."
Nicholas looked at the photograph.
"Tell me about her."
Moren swallowed.
"Lidia was always braver than I was. She hated injustice. When we were girls, she would confront anyone who bullied children smaller than themselves."
A sad smile crossed her face.
"She also had a terrible sense of direction. We once lost her for six hours at a county fair because she'd followed a man carrying rescued kittens."
Megan smiled despite herself.
Moren continued.
"She started working at the docks when she was nineteen. Bookkeeping. Inventory. She discovered discrepancies in the shipping documents."
"The Black Lantern?" Nicholas asked.
Moren nodded.
"Lidia began copying records. She wanted to take them to the authorities. Your mother found out and tried to help her."
Nicholas looked toward the floor.
"What happened?"
"Your father learned about the missing paperwork. Lidia vanished two days later."
"And my mother?"
"She wouldn't stop asking questions."
A silence followed.
Moren looked at Nicholas.
"I think your mother died because she refused to forget my sister."
He took her hand.
"Then we'll find the truth."
Megan looked away to give them privacy.
She knew the pain of losing a mother.
But she could not imagine spending twenty-three years believing a sister was dead, only to discover she might still be imprisoned.
The hospital television played silently in the waiting area.
A local news banner reported a suspicious fire on Wickenden Street.
Below it, footage showed firefighters outside Tessa's flower shop.
Megan watched the blackened windows.
A familiar storefront had become a crime scene.
She felt grief for the ordinary life she had been trying to rebuild.
Then she reminded herself that ordinary life was still possible.
But only if the people behind the operation were stopped.
Agent Ortiz approached with a tablet.
"The memory card from Olivia's envelope contains several short videos."
Megan stood.
"Of what?"
"Financial records, shipping schedules, and parts of conversations."
"Can we watch?"
"Some of the material may be difficult. You're not obligated to."
"I want to."
Ortiz led them into a private consultation room.
The first video showed a desk covered in papers.
A woman's trembling hand moved invoices beneath a small camera.
The second showed a computer screen.
There were rows of numbers, transfer dates, and company names.
The third contained voices.
A man spoke from somewhere beyond the camera.
"We can't keep moving people through the old accounts. Nicholas has been examining the lending operation."
Another man laughed.
"Then give him something legitimate to examine."
Megan recognized Rick's voice.
It was the first time she had heard him since Nicholas ordered him out of the mansion.
She felt sick.
The first man continued.
"The Bellamy name still opens every door we need."
Rick replied, "Then why are we wasting time with small debts?"
"Because small debts give us control over people who don't have lawyers."
A chair scraped.
The first man spoke again.
"Delaney, you were supposed to keep the Walsh woman quiet."
Megan stopped breathing.
Rick answered.
"She doesn't know anything."
"She worked at Harbor Point."
"She delivered flowers."
"She saw the women."
"She thought they were bridesmaids."
The man gave a disgusted sigh.
"That isn't the point. The shop has delivery records. She has access to them."
Rick's voice grew defensive.
"Megan does what I tell her."
"Then make certain of it."
The recording ended.
Megan sat completely still.
Her mind returned to the winter wedding.
The women in the room.
The security guard.
The suitcases.
The black lighthouse emblem.
Rick had known exactly what she saw.
And he had spent months ensuring she never questioned it.
Nicholas looked furious.
Ortiz paused the next recording.
"Megan, you can stop."
"No."
She swallowed.
"I want to know."
The fourth video showed Silas Voss speaking into a telephone.
His pale eyes were unmistakable.
"We've got a problem with the old witness."
A pause.
"No, not Eleanor. The sister."
Another pause.
"Julian thinks we should move her before Nicholas discovers the archive."
Voss listened.
Then said, "Don't worry about the nephew. He still believes his uncle protected him from Vincent."
Nicholas's face changed.
The recording continued.
"We'll handle the remaining witnesses after the transfer."
The video ended.
Nobody spoke.
Megan looked toward Nicholas.
He stared at the blank screen.
"What did he mean?" she asked.
Nicholas answered slowly.
"After my father died, Julian told me he had spent years trying to restrain him."
Moren closed her eyes.
"He lied."
Nicholas nodded.
"He convinced me he had been fighting the very operations he was helping to run."
Ortiz looked at the tablet.
"That recording gives us a stronger basis to connect Julian to the operation. But we still need corroboration and the original financial records."
Nicholas looked up.
"Use my company's servers. I'll provide access to every relevant account through the legal process."
"Even if it exposes crimes committed by your own organization?"
"Especially then."
Megan watched him.
It would have been easy for Nicholas to protect the Bellamy name.
He possessed money, lawyers, and influence.
But he was choosing to surrender control of the information.
She wondered how much that choice would cost him.
Before she could ask, Ortiz's telephone rang.
She answered.
The room became silent.
"Repeat that," she said.
A pause.
"How many?"
Another pause.
"Any injuries?"
Her expression darkened.
She ended the call.
"The Harbor Point estate is empty."
Moren stood.
"What about Lidia?"
"No sign of her."
"And the other women?"
"Nothing yet."
Nicholas's jaw tightened.
"Julian knew you were coming."
"Possibly."
Ortiz looked toward Daniel, who had entered with a security update.
"We need to review who had advance knowledge of the operation."
Daniel nodded.
"The warrant request involved only a small federal team."
"Then somebody may have been listening."
Megan looked at the map on the wall.
The Harbor Point estate sat beside a tidal inlet.
North of it stretched a series of old service roads leading toward abandoned industrial properties.
She remembered delivering the wedding flowers.
The estate had an unusually large refrigerated storage room.
At the time, she assumed it was meant for catering.
Now she wondered why a private house needed commercial refrigeration equipment.
"Agent Ortiz?"
"Yes?"
"Did your team search the old refrigeration building?"
Ortiz frowned.
"Which building?"
"There was a separate structure behind the estate. Brick walls, metal doors. The delivery staff told me it was used for food storage."
"That wasn't on the current property survey."
Megan walked toward the map.
"It was near the northern service road."
Ortiz called the search team.
Several minutes passed.
Then her expression changed.
"The building exists. It was omitted from the recent property records."
Nicholas looked toward Megan.
"Another hidden space."
She nodded.
"Someone has been changing plans for a very long time."
The search team entered the refrigeration building.
Inside, investigators found abandoned food containers, restraints, medical supplies, and evidence that people had been held there recently.
The women were gone.
But one detail caught Megan's attention.
A photograph showed cardboard flower boxes stacked beside a loading door.
She recognized the printed logo.
They came from a wholesale floral supplier in Massachusetts.
Tessa used the same company.
Megan remembered that during the winter wedding, the supposed bride ordered an extraordinary number of flowers.
Most arrived through refrigerated trucks.
Those trucks could move freely between properties without attracting attention.
A van full of flowers looked harmless.
A refrigerated trailer passing through a private estate rarely raised questions.
"Check the supplier's transport records," Megan said.
Ortiz considered the photograph.
"That's a useful lead."
Daniel contacted the supplier through the investigators.
Within an hour, they identified a truck assigned to a late-night delivery.
Its paperwork listed an order for white roses.
The quantity was absurd.
Three hundred boxes.
Enough flowers for a major hotel installation.
The destination was a coastal storage facility north of Boston.
But the company's dispatcher had not authorized the order.
Someone used a compromised account.
Megan looked at the manifest.
"The truck won't be going to a wedding."
Nicholas nodded.
"No."
Ortiz immediately redirected investigators toward the truck's scheduled route.
Then Nicholas's personal telephone rang.
The number was blocked.
He looked at the screen.
Answered.
And placed the call on speaker at Ortiz's signal.
"Hello, Nicholas."
Julian Bellamy's voice sounded cheerful.
Almost affectionate.
"Uncle."
"I hear you've had a difficult day."
"Where are you?"
"Oh, you know me. Always traveling."
Nicholas said nothing.
Julian sighed.
"I'm disappointed, Nicholas. I raised you better than this."
"You didn't raise me."
"Who helped you after Vincent died? Who introduced you to the banks? Who kept the family intact?"
"Who helped my father imprison women?"
The silence on the line lasted only a second.
Then Julian laughed.
"Such dramatic language."
"Answer the question."
"You've been spending too much time with frightened girls and federal agents."
Megan flinched.
Nicholas's eyes hardened.
"Where's Lidia?"
Julian stopped laughing.
For the first time, his voice became cold.
"So Moren finally told you."
"Where is she?"
"Safe enough, if you behave."
Moren pressed both hands against her mouth.
Julian continued.
"Your mother was a difficult woman, Nicholas. Beautiful, intelligent, incapable of understanding when to leave things alone."
Nicholas's face turned pale.
"Don't talk about her."
"She was going to destroy everything your father built."
"Did you kill her?"
A pause.
Julian exhaled.
"Your father was sentimental. He believed she could be persuaded."
Nicholas gripped the table.
"And you?"
"I believed people should make practical decisions."
Megan watched Ortiz signal to her technical team to preserve and trace the call.
Julian continued.
"There are documents in my possession that will tell you exactly what happened the night Eleanor died."
Nicholas closed his eyes.
"Where?"
"I'll make you an offer."
"You're in no position to bargain."
"Oh, Nicholas. You're still the boy who thinks money is the same thing as control."
Julian's voice sharpened.
"At dawn, a transport will leave the country. Three women are scheduled to travel with it. One is Moren's sister."
Moren began trembling.
Julian continued.
"Stop the federal investigation. Withdraw your cooperation. Publicly accuse the Walsh girl of inventing the story. And I will release the women."
Nicholas remained silent.
"If you refuse," Julian said, "you'll receive three names and three death certificates."
Megan felt the room grow cold.
Julian added, almost conversationally, "And you'll never know what happened to your mother."
Nicholas looked toward Moren.
Then toward Megan.
For a moment, she feared he might agree.
He had just discovered his mother might have been murdered.
He had spent years believing his uncle protected him.
And now the man responsible was offering him answers.
Nicholas spoke.
"You want me to destroy a woman who escaped being sold into your operation so that you'll return three women you're already holding hostage."
Julian laughed softly.
"That's one way to describe it."
"Then you haven't understood anything about me."
"Be reasonable."
"I am."
Nicholas leaned toward the telephone.
"I won't bargain with other people's lives."
Julian's voice turned icy.
"Your mother made the same mistake."
The call ended.
For a moment, Nicholas did not move.
Then he placed the telephone on the table.
Moren began crying.
Megan approached her.
She did not offer empty promises.
She simply held the older woman's hand.
Ortiz moved quickly.
"We have the recording. The threat establishes immediate danger. We're coordinating with maritime authorities and the federal team along the coast."
Nicholas turned.
"What do you need?"
"Access to any shipping intelligence your companies possess."
"You'll have it."
"And I need you to stay away from Julian."
Nicholas nodded.
It was clear he hated the instruction.
But he understood why it mattered.
Megan studied the map again.
Dawn.
A transport leaving the country.
A refrigerated truck traveling north.
Three women.
One surviving witness from twenty-three years ago.
Something bothered her.
The timetable.
The manifest showed the truck's delivery scheduled for three in the morning.
But the nearest deepwater terminal accepting international cargo would not load until later.
Why transport the women hours before departure?
Then she remembered something her father had once explained about the coast.
Certain tidal inlets were navigable only during specific windows.
Smaller vessels could leave private docks when larger ships could not.
Megan moved toward the map.
"They're not taking the women to the storage facility."
Ortiz looked up.
"Why?"
"Because the storage facility is a cover. The truck's destination is near a tidal creek."
She pointed at the coastline.
"There's an old private dock there. The approach channel becomes too shallow outside high tide."
Daniel checked the marine chart.
Megan continued.
"Julian said dawn because he wanted you watching the airports and large terminals. But if they use a smaller boat, the departure window could be much earlier."
Ortiz immediately contacted the maritime team.
She gave them the location.
Ten minutes later, a response arrived.
A privately registered vessel had requested departure clearance from a marina near the inlet.
Its ownership traced to a shell company linked to Julian.
The vessel was scheduled to depart in forty minutes.
Ortiz issued new instructions.
The room filled with urgent voices.
Then Daniel received a message.
He stepped toward Nicholas.
"We need to move Megan and Moren."
"Why?"
"A vehicle has been circling the hospital. The license plate belongs to a stolen car."
Ortiz looked toward the windows.
"Protective relocation. Immediately."
Megan helped Moren stand.
They were escorted through a staff corridor to a secure exit.
Nicholas followed.
Outside, the night was cold and windy.
Rain had begun to fall.
Megan climbed into the back of an unmarked vehicle beside Moren.
A federal protection officer took the front passenger seat.
Nicholas entered a separate car.
Before the doors closed, Megan looked toward him.
He approached her window.
"You're going somewhere secure," he said. "Ortiz will be able to contact you."
"What about you?"
"I'll remain available to the investigators."
Megan studied his face.
"You don't have to fix everything personally."
He gave a faint smile.
"I'm beginning to understand that."
She hesitated.
Then spoke quietly.
"Your mother would have wanted you to survive finding the truth."
Something moved in his expression.
"Thank you."
He stepped back.
The vehicles pulled away.
For the first ten minutes, nothing happened.
Moren sat with her hands folded.
Rain streaked the windows.
The protection officer spoke quietly into a radio.
Megan looked at the road signs.
Then noticed the headlights behind them.
A black pickup had followed through three turns.
She leaned forward.
"Is that vehicle supposed to be there?"
The officer glanced at the mirror.
"No."
The driver accelerated.
The pickup accelerated too.
Megan's heartbeat rose.
Another vehicle emerged from a side street.
A white van.
It moved across the lane ahead.
The driver braked hard.
Moren cried out.
The sedan swerved around the obstruction.
Metal scraped against the guardrail.
The rear window shattered.
Megan ducked instinctively, pulling Moren down beside her.
The protection officer shouted into the radio.
"Ambush! Two vehicles! Requesting immediate assistance!"
The sedan accelerated onto a narrow road.
The pickup pursued.
Megan heard a loud impact against the trunk.
Then another.
The driver struggled to maintain control.
"Stay down!" the officer shouted.
Moren's hand was bleeding from broken glass.
Megan pulled a scarf from her bag and pressed it against the wound.
"Keep pressure here."
Moren nodded.
Her face was pale.
The driver turned sharply into a municipal maintenance access road.
The pickup followed.
Ahead, construction barriers blocked the road.
The driver braked.
For a terrifying second, Megan thought they were trapped.
Then the protection officer pointed toward a narrow service lane.
"Left!"
The sedan turned.
Its tires slipped across wet gravel.
A concrete drainage barrier stood ahead.
The driver stopped just short of it.
"Out!" the officer shouted.
Megan opened the rear door.
Cold rain struck her face.
She helped Moren climb out.
The officer directed them behind a concrete wall while the driver maneuvered to block the lane.
The pickup approached.
A man stepped out holding a weapon.
The officer shouted a warning.
Police sirens sounded in the distance.
The man retreated.
The pickup reversed violently and disappeared.
Megan crouched beside Moren.
Her heart felt ready to burst.
Blood ran from a small cut above her own eyebrow.
She barely noticed.
Moren was shaking.
"Are you hurt?"
"Only my hand."
Megan pressed the scarf more firmly.
"We're okay."
The older woman stared at her.
"How are you so calm?"
Megan almost laughed.
"I'm not."
Her hands were trembling.
Her knees felt weak.
But she had learned something during four years with Rick.
Panic could wait until the immediate danger passed.
The protection officer called for medical support.
Then Daniel's voice came through the radio.
"Status?"
The officer reported the attack.
A pause followed.
Then Daniel said, "The safe-house route was compromised."
Megan looked up.
The route had been arranged only minutes earlier.
Julian's people had known exactly where to find them.
Someone had passed the information along.
The officer reached for his radio again.
Before he could speak, Megan noticed something beneath the passenger seat of the damaged sedan.
A small black device.
A blinking green light.
She pointed.
"What's that?"
The officer examined it.
His expression changed.
"Vehicle tracker."
Megan felt cold.
"How did it get there?"
"We don't know."
The officer carefully photographed the device and left it untouched for technicians.
Daniel's voice came through the radio.
"Agent Ortiz has been notified. Everyone involved in arranging the transport is being reviewed."
Megan looked toward Moren.
The older woman was still gripping the photograph of Lidia.
The paper had become wet and wrinkled.
But she had not let it go.
"Someone is trying very hard to stop us," Megan whispered.
Moren nodded.
"Yes."
Megan looked toward the dark road where the pickup disappeared.
Then toward the approaching police lights.
For the first time, she understood that surviving Rick was only the beginning.
The men behind him were willing to attack protected witnesses in public.
They were willing to burn businesses.
They were willing to threaten women who had already lost decades of their lives.
But they were also making mistakes.
Every attack revealed another part of their network.
Every threat created another witness.
Every attempt to silence someone made the case against them stronger.
Megan lowered her eyes toward the photograph in Moren's hand.
Then she saw something she had overlooked.
The picture of Lidia had a narrow handwritten marking in the bottom corner.
It was not a date.
It was a number.
B-17.
The same kind of notation Megan had seen on the old warehouse floor plans.
She leaned closer.
"Moren?"
"Yes?"
"Did your sister ever work with building records?"
"She copied shipping ledgers. Why?"
Megan pointed.
"This isn't an identification number."
Moren looked puzzled.
"Then what is it?"
Megan remembered the drawings from the Newport mansion.
The numbered service corridors.
The hidden rooms.
The original archive.
And suddenly, something connected.
"B-17 wasn't a person," she whispered.
"It was a location."
Moren stared at her.
"Where?"
Megan looked up.
"The Bellamy estate has a room numbered B-17 in the original plans."
"But that room doesn't exist anymore."
Megan shook her head.
"No."
Her heart began pounding for an entirely different reason.
"It exists. Someone covered it when they remodeled the house."
The older woman gripped her arm.
"Are you saying Lidia left something there?"
"Maybe."
Moren looked down at the photograph.
Then whispered, "Eleanor always said there were two keys."
Megan felt the blood drain from her face.
"Two?"
"One for the archive. One for whatever she hid before she died."
The first key had opened the past.
May you like
The second might expose the people who still controlled the Black Lantern.
And while Nicholas Bellamy searched the coast for his uncle, the most important evidence might still be waiting inside his own home.
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