The Numbers Written In Blue Ink

“Gone?”

Luca’s voice cracked like a whip through the dining room.

“How the hell is she gone, Daniel?”

I followed Luca as he ran.

Down the grand staircase.

Through the massive kitchen.

Into the dimly lit stone corridors of the basement.

When we reached the security holding room, the heavy steel door was wide open.

One of the guards was sitting on the floor, pressing a bloody towel to the back of his head.

Daniel stood by the small, high window near the ceiling.

The glass was shattered. Snow blew into the warm basement.

“She had help, boss,” Daniel said, his face pale. “Someone hit Marco from behind. By the time I got down here, they had pulled her through the window.”

Luca stared at the broken glass.

His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Anthony,” Sofia whispered, having followed us downstairs. “Her brother must have been waiting on the grounds.”

“No,” Luca said coldly.

He walked over to the unconscious guard’s belt.

The guard’s sidearm was still in its holster. But something else was missing.

“Anthony is a coward,” Luca said. “He wouldn’t risk breaking into this house. He wouldn’t know the camera blind spots.”

Luca turned around.

“Whoever took her knew exactly where the security gaps were. And they took Marco’s master keycard.”

My stomach plummeted.

An inside job.

Someone on the Moretti payroll was working for Vanessa.

“We don’t have time for this,” Luca said, looking at his watch. 8:22 PM. “If they get my father on that plane to Zurich, we lose him. The Swiss banks won't touch him once he's in international airspace.”

He looked at me.

“Emma. My car. Now.”

I didn't hesitate. I ran to the staff locker room, grabbed my heavy wool coat, and met Luca in the garage.

He was behind the wheel of a black armored SUV.

I climbed into the passenger seat.

The moment the garage doors opened, Luca floored the accelerator.

The massive vehicle tore out into the blizzard, the tires gripping the icy Chicago roads.

The heater was blasting, but I was shivering.

Not from the cold.

From the terrifying reality of what I was caught in.

“Why Zurich?” I asked quietly, staring out the window at the blinding snow. “Why not just ransom him?”

Luca didn’t look away from the road.

“My father controls the primary ledger of our syndicate’s legitimate holdings. Billions in real estate and shipping. To transfer those assets, you need two things.”

He navigated a sharp turn, the engine roaring.

“You need his physical signature. And you need the biometric retina scan at the Swiss bank vault.”

I swallowed hard. “That’s why she was forcing him to sign the papers upstairs.”

“Yes. She needed the signature first. The 'residential care' document was a cover. It was likely a power of attorney transfer.”

“And when he refused?”

“She triggered the backup plan. Kidnap him and force the biometric scan in person.”

We merged onto the highway, swerving past slow-moving snowplows.

My left wrist throbbed. I rubbed it absentmindedly beneath my coat.

Luca noticed.

He reached into the center console with one hand, pulled out a small first-aid ice pack, cracked it to activate the cold, and handed it to me.

“Press that to the bruise,” he said gently.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

We were ten minutes away from Midway Airport.

Suddenly, my cell phone vibrated in my coat pocket.

I pulled it out.

The caller ID was blocked.

I looked at Luca. He nodded.

I answered and put it on speaker.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice came through. Panicked. Breathless.

“Emma? Is this Emma?”

My blood ran cold.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Anthony,” the voice gasped. Vanessa’s brother. “Listen to me carefully. I didn’t take him.”

Luca slammed on the brakes, sliding slightly on the ice before regaining control.

“Anthony,” Luca growled into the phone. “Where is my father?”

“Luca! Thank God,” Anthony sobbed. “I swear to you, I only hired the medical van. That was it! Vanessa told me it was just to move him to a nursing home! She said she’d pay off my debts if I arranged it!”

“Where is he?” Luca roared.

“I don’t know!” Anthony cried. “The driver… the medical driver… he double-crossed us. He pulled a gun on me twenty minutes ago. He threw me out of the van on 95th Street!”

Luca’s jaw clenched. “Who was the driver?”

“I don’t know his real name! Vanessa hired him! But she called him Victor!”

Luca’s entire body went rigid.

The SUV swerved.

“Victor Rossi?” Luca whispered, the name tasting like ash.

“I don’t know!” Anthony screamed.

Then, a loud crack echoed through the phone.

Anthony let out a wet, gurgling gasp.

The sound of a body hitting the pavement.

Then, a new voice came on the line. Calm. Cultured. Deadly.