Chapter 5 - THE BRACELET
I stared at the heavy brass key resting inside the shattered face of the pocket watch.
“What is this?” I whispered.
Victor gently took the watch from my hands. He picked up the brass key, holding it under the dim hallway light.
“It’s a safe deposit key,” Victor said. His voice was remarkably steady, but I could see the tension in his jaw. “For the Manhattan Vaults beneath Wall Street.”
The realization hit me.
“That’s where David hid the ledger,” I said.
Victor nodded. “Caldwell didn’t give this back to you out of kindness. He’s been tearing this city apart for three years trying to find the key. He finally realized David must have hidden it inside his most prized possession before he died.”
“But if Caldwell found the watch, why didn’t he just take the key and get the ledger himself?” I asked, confused.
“Because the Manhattan Vaults require dual authentication,” Victor explained. “A physical key, and a biometric scan of the account holder. David is dead. But Caldwell knows David would have set up a secondary beneficiary.”
Victor looked at me.
“You.”
My stomach bottomed out.
“Ethan gave Leo the key because he needs me to walk into that bank and open the box for them,” I realized, the horrifying trap closing around us. “If I don’t, they kill us.”
“They’ll kill you the second you hand the ledger over anyway,” Victor said coldly.
He pocketed the brass key and looked at Mrs. Gable.
“Pack a bag for the boy. Enough for three days. You’re coming with us.”
Mrs. Gable stammered, “I—I can’t just leave—”
“If you stay in this apartment, you are dead in an hour,” Victor said, leaving absolutely no room for debate. “Move.”
Ten minutes later, the four of us were back in the black SUV.
Leo was asleep, his head resting on my lap. Mrs. Gable sat frozen in the far back seat, clutching a small tote bag.
“Where are we going?” I asked Victor in a hushed whisper.
“To the bank,” Victor said. “We get the ledger before Caldwell’s men intercept us. Once I have the physical evidence, I can destroy Richard Caldwell by morning.”
He leaned forward to speak to his driver.
“Thomas. Head to Wall Street. The private entrance on Broad.”
Thomas, the massive driver, didn’t answer.
He didn’t turn the wheel toward downtown. Instead, he accelerated, heading straight toward the FDR Drive—away from the bank, and toward the industrial docks.
Victor frowned. “Thomas. I said Wall Street.”
Thomas kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
Click.
The sound of the child locks engaging echoed through the quiet cabin.
My blood turned to ice.
“What are you doing?” I panicked, trying the door handle. It was locked from the front.
Victor’s demeanor shifted instantly from protective to lethal. He didn’t yell. He didn’t reach for the door.
He slowly reached inside his bespoke suit jacket.
“Pull the car over, Thomas,” Victor ordered.
“I’m sorry, Boss,” Thomas said. His voice was thick with guilt, but he didn’t slow down. “Caldwell found out about my wife’s cancer treatments. He offered to pay for the experimental trials. You know I don’t have that kind of money.”
“I would have given you the money,” Victor said softly.
“Caldwell also said if I didn’t bring you and the girl to Pier 40 by midnight, he’d burn my house down with her inside.”
Thomas pulled a heavy, suppressed pistol from his waist holster and placed it on the passenger seat beside him, a silent warning.
I pulled Leo tighter against me, stifling a sob. We were trapped. The most powerful man in New York had just been betrayed by his own shadow.
Victor stared at the back of Thomas’s head.
Then, Victor looked down at the center console between the front seats.
Thomas’s right hand was resting on the gear shift.
Wrapped around Thomas’s thick wrist was a cheap, braided leather bracelet.
It was blue and red. Frayed at the edges.
I recognized it instantly.
Leo had made that bracelet at summer camp. He gave it to me for my birthday. I kept it in the top drawer of my locker at work.
“Where did you get that?” I whispered, pointing at the driver’s wrist.
Victor looked at the bracelet. Then he looked at me.
“You broke into her locker, Thomas,” Victor stated. The betrayal was complete. Ethan hadn’t left the threat. Victor’s own man had.
“I had to make it look like Ethan did it, Boss,” Thomas gritted out. “I needed you to panic. I needed you to put her in this car.”
Victor didn’t waste another breath on words.
He moved with terrifying speed.
Victor didn’t draw a weapon. He lunged forward over the center console, grabbing Thomas’s wrist with his left hand and driving his right elbow brutally into the side of Thomas’s neck.
Thomas choked, the SUV swerving violently across two lanes of the FDR Drive.
Horns blared. Tires shrieked.
I screamed, throwing my body completely over Leo to protect him.
Thomas frantically grabbed for the gun on the passenger seat, but Victor caught his arm, twisting it backward until a sickening snap echoed through the cabin.
Thomas roared in pain.
Victor grabbed the steering wheel, fighting to stabilize the massive vehicle as it careened toward the concrete median.
“Brace yourself!” Victor yelled.
He slammed his foot onto the brake pedal from the passenger side, throwing the gear shift into park while the car was still moving.
The transmission screamed, metal grinding violently as the SUV skidded sideways, smashing into the concrete barrier with a deafening crunch.
The airbags deployed in a cloud of white dust.
Silence descended on the wrecked car, broken only by the hiss of the radiator and Leo’s terrified crying.
I coughed through the smoke, frantically checking Leo. He was shaken, but unhurt.
Victor kicked the shattered window of his door completely out. He climbed out onto the highway and ripped the back door open from the outside.
“Out,” Victor ordered. “Now.”
I grabbed Leo and scrambled out into the cold night. Mrs. Gable followed, shaking like a leaf.
Thomas was unconscious in the driver’s seat, his head resting against the deployed airbag.
Victor reached in and took the gun from the passenger seat. He tucked it into his waistband.
“We have to walk,” Victor said, looking around the abandoned stretch of highway under the bridge. “Caldwell was tracking this car. His men will be here in less than five minutes.”
“We can’t outrun them with a child and an elderly woman,” I cried.
Victor looked at his watch. 10:15 PM.
“We don’t have to outrun them,” Victor said. He looked toward the glittering skyline of Manhattan. “Caldwell is hosting his annual charity gala tonight at the Waldorf Astoria. That’s where he’s waiting for Thomas to deliver us.”
“Why would we go where he is?” I asked, horrified.
May you like
Victor pulled the brass key from his pocket.
“Because the Manhattan Vaults don’t just have a public entrance on Wall Street,” Victor said. “They have a private, subterranean entrance connected to the sub-basement of the Waldorf. We are going to walk right under his feet, steal his evidence, and destroy him in front of his own guests.”
