Chapter 3 - The Man Who Had Every Reason to Lie
Isabella listened to Daniel Mercer for forty-three seconds.
It was enough time for doubt to become a weapon.
“Where are you?” Mercer asked.
She looked at Alejandro.
“At home.”
Alejandro’s expression gave nothing away.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
Another lie.
Mercer exhaled.
“Good. Stay there. I’ll send agents.”
“No.”
A pause.
“Miss Santos, I understand you’re frightened.”
“You called me in the middle of the night asking about a watch someone just tore my apartment apart looking for.”
Silence.
Then Mercer changed tactics.
“Your uncle contacted me two weeks ago.”
Alejandro’s eyes narrowed.
“He believed Romano was manipulating his investigation.”
“Why?”
“Because Romano controls half the port contacts Thomas used.”
Isabella looked toward the broken window.
“And you’re saying Alejandro killed him?”
“I’m saying we found communications between Romano’s organization and the vehicle used in your uncle’s murder.”
Alejandro’s face remained still.
Too still.
Mercer continued.
“I can show you.”
“Where?”
“Federal Plaza. Public building. Cameras everywhere.”
Isabella almost laughed.
Thomas’s last words repeated inside her head.
Do not trust the federal task force.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t wait too long. Romano won’t let you leave once he realizes what you know.”
She hung up.
Alejandro held out his hand.
“Phone.”
“No.”
“Mercer can trace—”
“I know.”
She removed the battery herself.
Then she looked at him.
“Did you order my uncle killed?”
One of Alejandro’s men turned away, as if the question itself were dangerous.
Alejandro did not.
“No.”
“Did anyone in your organization communicate with the car used in his murder?”
“Yes.”
Isabella’s stomach dropped.
“Explain.”
“One of my lieutenants called a number associated with the vehicle three days ago.”
“Who?”
“Marco Bellini.”
“Where is he?”
Alejandro’s silence answered.
“You don’t know.”
“He disappeared yesterday.”
“Convenient.”
“Yes.”
She stared at him.
“If Mercer has evidence—”
“He may.”
“Then why shouldn’t I go to Federal Plaza?”
“Because Thomas told you not to trust them.”
“He also apparently trusted you, and I still don’t understand why.”
Alejandro stepped closer.
“Then understand this. If I wanted you controlled, I wouldn’t have brought you to your apartment. I wouldn’t have shown you the Verona file. And I would not be standing here letting you consider walking into Mercer’s building.”
“Would you stop me?”
“Yes.”
Her anger flared.
“There it is.”
“Because I believe he’ll kill you.”
“That is not your decision.”
“No. But keeping Thomas’s promise is mine.”
The apartment felt too small for both of them.
Isabella looked down at the metal back plate of her father’s watch.
A tiny scratch ran along the inner rim.
Three letters.
M.S.C.
She frowned.
“What?”
Alejandro followed her gaze.
“M.S.C.”
She whispered it.
Then remembered.
“Mount Sinai College.”
Alejandro looked at her.
“My nursing school.”
“Why would your father put that on a watch fifteen years before you enrolled?”
“He didn’t.”
She turned the plate.
“The scratch is newer.”
“Thomas.”
“Yes.”
A memory surfaced.
Last month, Thomas had insisted on helping her move boxes into the nursing lab for a weekend program.
He had wandered off while she met with a professor.
“He hid something at school.”
Alejandro was already on the phone.
“No armed men in the main building,” Isabella said.
He looked at her.
“You are not turning my nursing school into a military operation.”
“Two plainclothes.”
“One.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
“Fine.”
By dawn, they entered the quiet campus through a side entrance.
Isabella led Alejandro to the simulation lab.
The room smelled like disinfectant and plastic.
Training mannequins lay beneath sheets.
Cabinets lined the wall.
She searched her memory.
Thomas had joked about the baby mannequin.
Said it looked like a politician.
Then he had spent several minutes near the medication training cart.
She pulled open drawers.
Nothing.
Alejandro checked beneath the cart.
“Tape.”
A tiny waterproof pouch was attached under the frame.
Inside was the missing micro-SD card.
Isabella stared at it.
“They searched my apartment because they thought it was still in the watch.”
“Thomas moved it.”
“Why leave the watch?”
“To keep them looking in the wrong place.”
Alejandro inserted the card into an encrypted laptop.
A password screen appeared.
Isabella tried Thomas’s birthday.
Wrong.
Her birthday.
Wrong.
Her father’s name.
Wrong.
Then she remembered something Thomas used to say whenever she complained about school.
Finish what he started.
She typed:
FINISHWHATHESTARTED
The drive opened.
Folders filled the screen.
Ship manifests.
Bank transfers.
Recorded calls.
Photographs.
Alejandro leaned forward.
Then froze.
One folder was labeled MERCER.
Inside were scanned account statements showing payments routed through offshore companies.
Recipient: Daniel Mercer.
Total over six years: $4.8 million.
Isabella sat back.
“So he’s the leak.”
“Looks like it.”
Another file contained a video.
Thomas appeared on screen in a dim room.
“If Bella finds this,” he said, “then I probably failed to make it home.”
Isabella’s throat closed.
Thomas looked exhausted.
“Petrov is bringing weapons through Warehouse Seventeen. But the shipment isn’t the main crime.”
Alejandro’s attention sharpened.
“The weapons are bait,” Thomas continued. “Petrov knows Romano is tracking them. Mercer plans to raid the warehouse after the exchange and pin everything on Alejandro.”
Isabella looked at him.
Thomas went on.
“They want Petrov gone and Romano imprisoned. Mercer takes control of the port routes afterward.”
Alejandro muttered something in Italian.
Then Thomas leaned closer to the camera.
“There’s one more thing. Marco Bellini is compromised.”
Alejandro went still.
“He has been feeding Mercer internal schedules for months.”
“Your lieutenant,” Isabella whispered.
Thomas continued.
“But Marco is scared. If anyone can flip him, it’s Bella.”
Isabella blinked.
“Me?”
Thomas gave a tired smile through the recording.
“She always was better at seeing frightened people than I was.”
The video ended.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then one of Alejandro’s security men entered.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“Marco Bellini just contacted us.”
Alejandro stood.
“What did he say?”
The man looked at Isabella.
“He wants to trade information.”
“For what?”
“Her.”
Isabella’s skin went cold.
Alejandro’s voice dropped.
“No.”
“He says he knows where Petrov is keeping the second shipment.”
“Still no.”
“He also says Thomas Santos is alive.”
Silence.
Isabella stood so fast her chair fell backward.
“What?”
The guard held out a phone.
A photograph filled the screen.
Thomas.
Bruised.
Blood at his temple.
But alive.
A newspaper lay beside him.
Today’s date.
Isabella grabbed the table.
Alejandro looked at the image.
Then at the message beneath it.
May you like
BRING ISABELLA ALONE TO PIER 42.
OR THIS TIME HER UNCLE REALLY DIES.
