Chapter 5 - The Leap in the Dark
The heavy thuds against the door resumed, louder this time. The wood near the hinges began to splinter.
“Hurry,” I urged, helping Margaret onto a sturdy wooden chair near the window. I pushed the sash open. The chill of the night air rushed in, carrying the distant sounds of city traffic.
The ledge was narrow, perhaps two feet wide, running along the side of the brick building toward a flat roof about twenty feet away. For me, it would be easy. For an eighty-year-old woman, it was a terrifying gauntlet.
“I can’t, Daniel,” Margaret whispered, looking down at the four-story drop to the concrete alley below. Her hands shook violently. “Leave me. Take the key. Find what your father left.”
“I didn’t find you after eleven years just to lose you in one night,” I said firmly. “Look at me. Only at me.”
The door behind us cracked with a sickening crunch. One of the hinges gave way.
“Daniel!” Robert barked. “This is your last warning!”
I climbed out first, gripping the cold brickwork. I reached my hand back in.
Margaret took a deep breath, clutching her worn handbag tightly against her chest. She grabbed my hand. Slowly, agonizingly, she climbed out onto the ledge.
“Don’t look down,” I instructed, moving sideways, inch by inch, keeping my body between her and the drop.
Inside the apartment, the door finally burst open with a crash of splintering wood. I heard heavy boots storm into the room.
“They’re on the ledge!” someone yelled.
I looked back. Robert’s face appeared at the window, contorted in ugly fury. He reached out, his hand grasping wildly for Margaret’s coat.
I didn't think. I swung my leg back and kicked his hand with the heel of my shoe.
Robert cursed, pulling his bruised hand back inside.
“Get around to the alley!” he screamed at his men. “Cut them off!”
We reached the flat roof of the adjacent building just as the men in the apartment retreated. I pulled Margaret over the low parapet, and we collapsed onto the gravel roof, gasping for air.
“We have to keep moving,” I said, pulling her up.
We navigated the rooftop, finding a rusty fire escape on the far side that led down to a different street. When we hit the pavement, I flagged down a passing taxi, throwing a hundred-dollar bill at the driver before we even sat down.
“Where to?” the driver asked, looking warily at our disheveled state in the rearview mirror.
I thought about the twelve million dollars Victoria had stolen. I thought about the fake pregnancy, the stolen bracelet, the men hunting us. I needed resources. I needed allies. And I needed to protect the one thing Robert couldn't touch without me.
“Take us to the First Fidelity Bank on 5th Avenue,” I said.
“They’re closed, buddy. It’s midnight.”
“Take us to the manager’s house first,” I corrected, giving him an address in the affluent suburbs.
Elias Thorne was the bank manager, but more importantly, he had been my father’s oldest friend. If anyone could get us into that vault before morning, it was him.
An hour later, we were sitting in Elias’s luxurious study. He was wearing a silk robe, staring in disbelief at the silver pocket watch and the brass key sitting on his desk.
“Robert told me Margaret passed away five years ago in a care facility,” Elias murmured, looking at my grandmother like she was a ghost.
“He’s been lying to everyone, Elias,” Margaret said softly.
Elias picked up the small brass key. He turned it over in his fingers, his expression hardening.
“This isn't a key to a standard deposit box, Daniel,” Elias said, looking up at me. “This is a master key. It opens the private vault beneath the bank. The vault your father explicitly sealed the day before he died.”
Elias stood up, walking over to a wall safe hidden behind a painting. He pulled out a set of heavy ring keys and a revolver.
“Your father called me the night of the crash,” Elias said, his voice grave. “He said if he didn't make it to the meeting the next day, I was to wait until you were thirty years old, and then hand you this vault. But there’s a problem.”
“What problem?” I asked.
“The vault requires two keys to turn simultaneously. You have your father’s.” Elias pointed to the brass key. “But the second key... is held by the executor of the trust.”
May you like
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“Uncle Robert has the other key.”
