Chapter 11 - THE MAN WHO BUILT THE TABLE
My heart stopped.
"Arthur?" I breathed, staring at the silver insignia. It was a tiny brass bell.
"It doesn't make sense," Luca muttered, gripping his pistol. "Arthur is a restaurant manager. He doesn't have a private militia."
"Unless he lied about who he was," I whispered, the horrifying realization washing over me.
Footsteps pounded down the corridor. Doors were being kicked open.
"Cabin 4!" a voice yelled.
We were in Cabin 6.
Luca grabbed my hand. "We have to move."
He quietly slid our cabin door open and pulled me into the dark hallway.
We sprinted toward the back of the train.
"Hey! There they are!"
Gunfire shattered the quiet night. The glass window next to my head exploded, showering us in shards.
Luca fired twice over his shoulder, hitting one of the men in the leg.
We burst through the metal doors into the baggage car.
Luca slammed the heavy iron door shut and jammed a metal pipe through the handles, locking it.
The men outside began hammering on the metal.
We were trapped.
I backed away from the door, my chest heaving. "Luca, why is Arthur doing this? He just got the restaurant!"
Luca holstered his gun and began frantically searching the baggage car for another exit.
"Think about it, Megan. Who brought the brass bell to the dinner? Who knew exactly which key opened my father's desk? Who told us about the diamonds?"
I stared at him.
"Arthur led us to the diamonds," I said.
"He didn't just lead us to them," Luca realized, his voice cold. "He used us to retrieve them. He couldn't open the desk himself without looking suspicious. He needed me to do it. And he needed Vincent out of the way."
The hammering on the door grew louder. Sparks flew as someone started using a blowtorch on the hinges.
"Arthur didn't want the restaurant," Luca said. "He wanted the ledger in New York. And he knows you are the only one who can open the lockbox."
"Because my mother's name is on it," I realized.
"No," a voice echoed from the shadows of the baggage car.
We both spun around.
Standing behind a stack of crates, holding a cane, was Arthur Bell.
He wasn't wearing his manager's suit. He was wearing a dark, tailored overcoat, looking every bit the ruthless boss he had hidden for twenty-seven years.
"Because your name is on it, Megan," Arthur said calmly.
Luca aimed his gun at Arthur's chest. "Call them off, Arthur. Or I'll kill you right here."
Arthur didn't flinch.
"You won't shoot me, Luca. Not when I'm the only one who can tell you the truth about your father."
"I know the truth about my father," Luca sneered.
"Do you?" Arthur asked, leaning on his cane. "Your father didn't trade the liquor license to save Megan's mother. He traded it to save Megan."
I stepped forward. "What are you talking about?"
Arthur looked at me, his eyes filled with a terrifying mix of pity and pride.
"Your mother didn't incur a debt by burning down a kitchen, Megan. The fire was a cover-up."
"A cover-up for what?" Luca demanded.
Arthur slowly reached into his coat.
He pulled out a silver charm bracelet.
Not the decoy with the diamonds.
May you like
The real one.
"A cover-up to hide the fact," Arthur said quietly, "that the boss of the Chicago syndicate had an affair with a dishwasher. And that you, Megan... are Luca's half-sister."
