Chapter 3 - THE VAULT OF LIES
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone, my hands shaking with a rage so absolute it felt like a physical weight in my chest.
“Marcus,” I commanded. “Take Lucy. Take her to the secure penthouse at the Four Seasons. Put four armed men on the door. Nobody gets in.”
“I’m not leaving you to walk into a trap alone, Mr. Anderson,” Marcus argued, his jaw set.
“You are keeping my granddaughter safe,” I snapped, my eyes blazing. “That is my only priority. I lost Emily once. I am not losing her child.”
Lucy grabbed my coat, her little face stained with tears. “Grandpa, are you going to bring Mommy back?”
I knelt and kissed her forehead. “I promise you, Lucy. I’m bringing her home.”
I handed Marcus the keys to the SUV and ordered a private black car to take me to the archives building. The building was an imposing, windowless concrete structure on the edge of the city that my company used to store decades of old blueprints and legal documents. It had been scheduled for demolition next month.
I stepped out of the car into the freezing rain. The heavy steel door was unlocked. I pushed it open and stepped into the cavernous, dimly lit lobby. Dust danced in the pale yellow security lights.
“Martin!” I yelled, my voice echoing off the concrete walls. “I’m here! I’m alone!”
“Take the freight elevator to the basement, Richard,” Martin’s voice crackled over the building’s old intercom system.
I walked into the massive rusted cage of the elevator and hit the basement button. The cage jolted downward, grinding in the shaft. When the doors slammed open, I stepped out into a massive underground storage floor.
At the far end of the room, illuminated by a single hanging bulb, stood Martin Hale.
He looked older, his face lined with the stress of a twenty-four-year lie. He was holding a suppressed pistol, aimed directly at the head of a woman tied to a metal chair.
Emily.
She looked up at me. Her face was bruised, her lip bleeding, but her eyes—my mother’s eyes—were wide with terror.
“Dad,” she whispered, the word tearing a hole straight through my soul.
“I’m right here, Emily,” I said, taking a slow step forward. I kept my hands visible. “Let her go, Martin. Whatever Victoria is paying you, I’ll quintuple it. I’ll wire fifty million dollars to any offshore account you want right now.”
Martin let out a hollow, bitter laugh. “This isn't about money anymore, Richard. It’s about survival. Victoria holds the evidence. She kept recordings. If I run, she leaks them to the FBI and I spend the rest of my life in a federal supermax. She told me to eliminate the problem. Both of them.”
“Then where is she?” I challenged, looking around the empty basement. “If she wants us dead, why isn't she here to watch?”
“Because Victoria doesn't get her hands dirty,” Emily choked out from the chair. “She never does.”
I looked at Emily, then at the brass key I was rolling between my fingers in my coat pocket. Vault 704.
“Emily,” I said steadily. “I found the rosary in your motel room. I found the key.”
Martin frowned, glancing down at Emily. “What key?”
“The key to Vault 704,” I said loudly, bluffing with every ounce of corporate negotiation skill I had. “The vault at the First Texas Bank. I already sent Marcus to empty it. Whatever evidence Victoria has on you, Martin, I have it now.”
Martin’s gun wavered. Panic flashed in his eyes. “You’re lying.”
“Call her,” I demanded. “Call Victoria. Ask her if she checked the vault today.”
Martin hesitated. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket with his left hand, keeping the gun trained on Emily with his right. He dialed a number and put it to his ear.
“Victoria,” Martin snapped into the phone. “The vault. Is the package still there?”
As Martin listened, his face drained of all color. He lowered the phone, staring at me in absolute shock.
“She said she moved it yesterday,” Martin whispered. “She moved the evidence to her private safe at the mansion.”
Suddenly, the horrific reality dawned on him.
“She set you up, Martin,” I said smoothly. “She sent you here to kill us, and then she’s going to call the police and tip them off to your location. She’s going to frame you for the murder of her husband and stepdaughter, and she keeps the entire empire completely clean.”
Before Martin could process the betrayal, the heavy steel doors of the basement loading dock violently blew open.
Three black SUVs tore into the basement, tires screeching on the polished concrete. Men in tactical gear poured out, leveling assault rifles at Martin.
Marcus stepped out of the lead vehicle. “Drop the weapon, Hale!”
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Martin realized he had been played by everyone. With a scream of pure rage, he swung the gun away from Emily and pointed it directly at me.
But he never got to pull the trigger.
