Chapter 3 - The Secret Viktor Refused to Tell Me About My Father
The police never put handcuffs on me.
That should have made me feel better.
It didn't.
Detective Alvarez led me into a private office in the back of Sterling House. Viktor followed without invitation. The detective turned toward him.
“This does not concern you.”
Viktor's expression remained calm.
“Everything that happens tonight concerns me.”
“You're not in charge here.”
“No.”
A pause.
“But you should ask yourself who is.”
Detective Alvarez looked between us.
I sat down.
“Why are my fingerprints on a gun?”
He placed an evidence bag on the table.
Inside was a black handgun.
“That weapon was recovered near the entrance.”
“I've never seen it.”
“Your prints were found on the grip.”
“That’s impossible.”
Viktor spoke.
“No.”
Detective Alvarez looked at him.
“What?”
“It is entirely possible.”
I turned.
“What are you doing?”
“Someone touched the weapon with your hand.”
The detective frowned.
“That's an interesting theory.”
“Not a theory.”
Viktor's voice became cold.
“A fact.”
He removed his phone and showed the detective a security still.
One of the attackers was crouching beside a fallen chair.
Behind him was another figure.
A woman.
Wearing a Sterling House uniform.
I recognized her.
Emily.
One of the newest waitresses.
She had left crying after Viktor dismissed her.
Detective Alvarez stared.
“Who is that?”
“Your witness,” Viktor said.
Emily was found in the kitchen twenty minutes later.
Her hands were shaking.
She admitted she had been told to pick up the weapon after the first shot.
“Who told you?”
She cried.
“I don't know.”
“Look at me,” I said.
She did.
“Was it a man?”
“Yes.”
“Older?”
“No.”
“Accent?”
“American.”
“Did he say anything?”
Emily hesitated.
“He told me the girl at table nine had to touch it.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“He said if she didn't, the police would think she was involved.”
Viktor's eyes hardened.
“Who gave you that order?”
“I couldn't see.”
“Did he give you money?”
She nodded.
“How much?”
“Five hundred.”
Viktor turned away.
Daniel entered.
“Pierce's people are outside.”
Viktor looked at him.
“How many?”
“Three vehicles.”
“What is Pierce doing here?”
Daniel swallowed.
“He says he's representing the restaurant's investors.”
Viktor laughed without humor.
“Of course.”
He turned toward me.
“You're coming with me.”
“I need to know about my father.”
He stopped.
“You're not ready.”
“I think I stopped being ready when someone planted a gun in my hand.”
Silence.
Finally, he said:
“Your father was named Adrian Kovacs.”
My heart stopped.
“Kovacs?”
“Yes.”
“That can't be true.”
“He was my father's younger brother.”
I stared at him.
“You’re my uncle?”
“No.”
He spoke carefully.
“Your father was my father's brother. That makes us first cousins.”
The room blurred.
My mother.
Prague.
The documents.
The key.
The heir.
It all connected.
“Why did my mother hide me?”
“Because your father disappeared.”
“When?”
“Before you were born.”
“Did he die?”
“We don't know.”
“What happened?”
Viktor took a breath.
“Your father was supposed to inherit control of a transportation network spanning Europe and the United States. He refused.”
“Why?”
“He wanted out.”
I looked at him.
“Out of the mafia?”
“Yes.”
“And my mother?”
“She helped him.”
“What happened to him?”
“Your mother disappeared with you.”
“I was a baby.”
“She believed someone was trying to kill both of you.”
“Was that person your father?”
“No.”
“Pierce?”
“Not then.”
“Then who?”
Viktor looked away.
“Stefan Nagy.”
I froze.
“My grandmother's brother?”
“No.”
“What?”
“Your grandmother's brother was never really your grandmother's brother.”
My head spun.
“Who was he?”
“A man named Stefan Vale.”
The name meant nothing.
Except I had heard it before.
On my mother's old papers.
“Wait.”
I reached into my purse.
I pulled out a folded receipt.
My mother had written on it years ago.
A name.
Stefan V.
Viktor read it.
His face hardened.
“Where did you get this?”
“My mother's things.”
He closed his eyes.
“For twenty years, I thought he was dead.”
“Apparently not.”
Viktor looked at me.
“He built the network Pierce is trying to control.”
“Then why does Pierce need your father's authorization?”
“Because the original authorization contains a clause that would expose the entire financial chain.”
“To whom?”
“Federal investigators.”
I swallowed.
“So the document can destroy Pierce.”
“Yes.”
“And my mother kept it.”
“Yes.”
“The key opens something.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Viktor looked at the brass key.
“That is what we have to discover.”
A knock interrupted us.
Detective Alvarez entered.
“Mr. Kovacs, we found something.”
He handed Viktor a photograph.
A storage facility.
Unit 412.
On the wall beside it was a number.
Viktor looked at me.
“The key.”
My fingers trembled.
We left Sterling House through the service entrance.
Viktor's driver took us across Manhattan.
I sat in the back beside Viktor, staring at the city.
Everything I thought I knew about my life had collapsed in less than an hour.
“My mother never lied to me.”
“She omitted things.”
“Same difference.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Sometimes the truth can get someone killed.”
“Are you defending her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she protected me too.”
I turned.
“She protected you?”
“My father intended to kill me after Adrian disappeared.”
I went still.
“Why?”
“Because he believed I had helped your father escape.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you still alive?”
“Because your mother intervened.”
I looked away.
“She saved your life twice.”
“Three times.”
I looked at him.
“What was the third?”
He said nothing.
We arrived at the storage facility.
Unit 412 stood at the end of a concrete corridor.
Viktor inserted the key.
It clicked.
Inside was a small room.
Boxes.
Photographs.
A metal desk.
A children's wooden chair.
And a blue suitcase.
I recognized it instantly.
My mother's.
I walked toward it.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside were dozens of documents.
Letters.
Bank statements.
Passport copies.
And a photograph of my mother holding me as a baby.
Behind the photograph was written:
Mara is not safe.
Viktor stood behind me.
Another note lay beneath it.
“Tell her everything only when Stefan returns.”
My skin went cold.
“Stefan is alive.”
“Yes.”
“And he knows about me.”
“Yes.”
“Then why hasn't he come for me?”
Viktor's eyes darkened.
“Maybe he has.”
A phone rang.
Viktor answered.
A distorted voice spoke.
“You found the suitcase.”
Viktor went still.
“Stefan.”
A laugh.
“You still recognize me.”
“I'll kill you.”
“Not before I tell her the truth.”
Viktor looked at me.
The voice continued.
“Mara Nagy was never supposed to exist.”
I felt my blood drain.
“What does that mean?” I whispered.
The voice laughed again.
“It means your mother stole you from the only family that could protect you.”
The call ended.
Viktor stared at the dead screen.
I whispered:
“My mother didn't steal me.”
His answer was immediate.
“No.”
“Then who did?”
He looked toward the open suitcase.
“At this point, Mara…”
May you like
He reached for one final document.
“…I think we have been searching for the wrong person.”
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