Chapter 10 - The Flight to Bellagio
The service passage smelled of stone, dust, and lake water.
Luca led them through a narrow corridor beneath the villa. Small electric lamps installed along the wall flickered to life as they passed.
Carol knew the path without guidance.
Her crutches made a soft, regular sound against the floor.
“This is how your father escaped with Helen?” Eugene asked.
“This is how he sent us away.”
The passage ended beneath the western stairwell.
A steel door stood open.
The lower vault had already been emptied.
Shelves lined the walls, but only dust remained where the ledgers had been stored. A security panel displayed Bradley’s access record.
2:17 a.m.
Carol checked the hidden camera.
The memory card was gone.
“The upload survived,” she said. “But Bradley knows he was recorded.”
Luca examined marks on the floor.
“They removed six cases.”
“Where would they take them?” Eugene asked.
“There is a private dock beneath the eastern terrace.”
They moved into the second room.
It contained filing cabinets filled with property records from the 1960s and 1970s. Names of American families appeared beside European companies.
Eugene recognized several famous corporations.
“This is bigger than Bradley,” he said.
“It was always bigger,” Carol replied.
A map on the wall showed a network of banks and holding companies. Belladonna Holdings sat at the center.
Luca opened a cabinet marked VALE.
It was empty.
“Bradley knew what to take,” he said.
The third room remained locked.
The brass key entered the slot but would not turn.
Carol examined the door.
A small glass panel beside the handle required a fingerprint.
“Current owner,” she said.
“Bradley.”
“He opened the first vault but not this one.”
“Why?”
Carol pointed to a red mark on the scanner.
“His fingerprint was rejected.”
“If he legally owns the company, why wouldn’t it work?”
“Because the third room doesn’t recognize the company director.”
Luca wiped dust from an inscription beneath the panel.
Access reserved for the founding line.
Eugene placed his thumb against the glass.
The scanner flashed green.
Carol inhaled sharply.
The brass key turned.
The door opened.
The room beyond was smaller than the others.
A wooden desk stood beneath a single lamp. On it were a cassette player, a typewriter, and several sealed envelopes.
A photograph hung on the wall.
Eugene approached it slowly.
Alden Vale stood beside Margaret near the lake. Eugene, perhaps six years old, sat on his father’s shoulders.
Another boy stood beside them.
Older than Eugene.
Dark-haired.
Nicholas.
“This photograph was taken before my father disappeared,” Eugene said.
Luca nodded.
“Nicholas lived with your family for several months.”
“I would remember him.”
“You were very young.”
“My mother never mentioned him.”
“She was afraid of what his existence proved.”
“Which was?”
“That Victor had been watching your family long before Alden vanished.”
Carol opened one of the envelopes.
Inside was a handwritten confession signed by Daniel Mercer.
Her father.
She read the first paragraph, then sat down abruptly.
“What does it say?” Eugene asked.
Carol handed him the page.
Daniel admitted that after helping Helen escape the villa in 2004, he confronted Martin Sloane near the river. Martin demanded the leather case. During the struggle, Daniel was injured but survived.
He did not die that night.
He entered a protection arrangement organized by Alden Vale.
Carol read the last sentence aloud.
My daughter must believe I am dead until the Belladonna records are public.
Her voice broke, but she did not cry.
Eugene looked at Luca.
“You knew.”
Luca lowered his eyes.
“Is Daniel alive?” Carol asked.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I was never told.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Alden separated the network so no one person could reveal everyone.”
Carol held the confession with both hands.
For twenty-two years, she had mourned a father who might still be alive.
A sound came from the passage.
Slow applause.
Bradley stood in the doorway behind them.
May you like
Martin Sloane was beside him.
And in Martin’s hand was a pistol pointed toward the floor.
