Chapter 6 - THE TAPE RECORDING
The ride to Union Station was suffocating.
Carmine forced Vincent, Leo, Elena, the baby, and me into the back of a stretched, armored SUV. His two armed enforcers sat up front, while Carmine sat across from us, idly twisting the brass key between his fingers.
Sabrina and Daniel were left tied up at the mansion under guard of Carmine’s men.
The city lights flashed across the tinted windows, illuminating the deep bruises on Vincent’s face. He kept one arm wrapped tightly around Leo, and the other shielding Elena and little Mia.
I sat quietly near the door, my hand buried deep in my apron pocket, my fingers tracing the smooth plastic of the microcassette tape.
“You’re a clever girl, Emma,” Vincent murmured quietly, keeping his eyes on Carmine. “But when that locker opens, he’s going to kill us anyway.”
“I know,” I whispered back.
“Then why did you delay it?”
“Because we aren’t going to open it.”
Vincent frowned, confused.
Before he could ask, the SUV pulled into the underground parking structure of Union Station.
The station was mostly empty at this hour, echoing with the sound of distant trains and the hum of fluorescent lights.
Carmine’s men escorted us out of the vehicle, their guns hidden cleverly beneath long trench coats, but the threat was entirely visible.
“Lead the way, boy,” Carmine said, poking Leo in the back with his cane.
Leo looked up at me, terrified. He knew there was no passcode. He knew the locker only needed a key.
I squeezed his hand. “Just take us to the locker, Leo.”
We walked through the grand concourse, past the closed ticket counters, heading toward the bank of heavy metal storage lockers near the East Wing.
“Number 402,” Leo whispered, pointing to a locker in the middle row.
Carmine grinned. He stepped forward and slid the brass key into the lock.
He turned it. The lock clicked heavily.
Carmine looked at the digital keypad next to it.
“Alright, girl,” Carmine said, stepping back and gesturing to the pad. “Punch it in.”
I took a deep breath.
I let go of Leo’s hand.
I stepped up to the keypad.
And instead of typing numbers, I reached into my apron pocket, pulled out the microcassette tape, and slammed it against the emergency fire alarm glass on the wall next to the lockers.
The glass shattered.
The station’s massive, deafening fire alarms instantly began shrieking.
Red strobe lights flashed violently across the concourse.
“What did you do?!” Carmine roared, covering his ears.
“Police! Security!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Within seconds, the station was in total chaos. The few remaining passengers began running toward the exits.
Carmine’s men raised their weapons, but they couldn’t fire. There were too many cameras, too many witnesses pouring out of the waiting rooms, and two armed transit police officers sprinting toward us down the hall.
“Boss, we gotta go!” one of the enforcers yelled, grabbing Carmine’s arm.
Carmine looked at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.
“This isn’t over,” he hissed.
He grabbed the brass key from the lock, turned, and fled toward the parking garage with his men before the police could reach them.
The moment they were out of sight, Vincent pulled me into a fierce, crushing hug.
“You brilliant, crazy woman,” Vincent breathed.
The transit police arrived, out of breath. “What happened? Is there a fire?”
“False alarm,” Vincent said smoothly, flashing a charismatic, apologetic smile. “My son tripped and bumped the glass. I’ll pay for the damages.”
The officers grumbled but, recognizing the expensive suits and lack of actual smoke, they moved off to reset the system.
When the concourse cleared, Vincent turned to the locker.
“He took the key,” Elena said despairingly. “We lost the ledger.”
“No, we didn’t,” I said quietly.
I held up my hand.
My knuckles were bleeding slightly from breaking the glass. But sitting in my palm was the small, black microcassette tape.
“Leo,” I asked softly. “What is this?”
Leo wiped a tear from his cheek. “Mom said it was a recording. She said if Dad ever found out the truth, he needed to listen to it.”
Vincent stared at the tape.
“There’s a vintage electronics store near my apartment,” I said quickly. “They’ll have a player.”
May you like
Vincent nodded, his jaw set.
“Let’s go.”
