Chapter 4 - The Estate of Lies
The helicopter slammed onto the snow-covered landing pad with bone-jarring force. My teeth rattled as the landing skids dragged across the ice, sparking against the frozen concrete before screeching to a violent halt.
Before the rotors even stopped spinning, the side doors were ripped open. Men in white winter camouflage pulled Elias’s security detail out by their collars, disarming them with brutal efficiency.
A massive hand grabbed my gray uniform, yanking me out into the freezing Alpine air. I stumbled onto the ice, clutching the brass handle of my feather duster tightly. Elias was hauled out next to me, his bespoke suit instantly dusted with snow, his face pale but composed.
"Welcome to the Black Forest, gentlemen," a voice called out.
I looked up. Standing at the entrance of a massive, brutalist concrete fortress built directly into the side of the mountain was a man in a heavy wool trench coat. He was tall, with silver hair clipped military-short and a jagged, ugly scar running from his jawline down into his collar. He walked with a slight limp, relying on a silver-tipped cane.
"Viktor," Elias spat, struggling against the guards holding his arms. "You’ve crossed a line this time. The international community will raze this mountain to the ground."
"The international community doesn't know this mountain exists, Elias," Viktor replied smoothly. He stopped in front of me, his piercing blue eyes analyzing every inch of my face. "And you must be Leo. The Architect's Heir. I must say, Elias, dressing the bloodline of the greatest mechanical genius in human history in a janitor's uniform is a uniquely cruel touch."
"Where is my grandmother?" I demanded, my voice raw against the biting wind.
Viktor smiled, a cold, empty expression. "She is inside, Leo. Safe. For now."
They marched us into the fortress. The interior was a jarring contrast to the concrete exterior. It was a vast, elegant library filled with antique mahogany shelves, roaring fireplaces, and glass display cases housing intricate, centuries-old clockwork mechanisms.
In the center of the room sat a massive steel table. And on that table rested the real Daedalus Cylinder.
It was larger than the replica Elias had shown at the auction. It was a labyrinth of brass gears, crystal lenses, and interlocking iron rings, thrumming with a faint, internal kinetic energy that shouldn't have been possible without a power source.
"For eighty years," Viktor said, tracing his gloved finger over the glass casing, "my family has been branded as murderers. Thieves. The world believes the Guild stole the wealth of Europe during the war and hid it. But your grandmother knew the truth, Leo. She built this cylinder not as a weapon, but as a vault. A vault that holds the true deeds, the rightful ownership of everything the Thorne family stole."
I looked at Elias. The billionaire refused to meet my eyes.
"He’s lying," Elias said, though his voice lacked its usual thunder. "The Cylinder is a weapon. It holds the coordinates to a dormant satellite network."
"He's pathetic," Viktor laughed. He turned to me, pulling a heavy ring of keys from his pocket. He detached a single, old, worn brass key and tossed it onto the table in front of me.
I stared at it. It wasn't a master key or an antique cipher.
It was a standard Schlage deadbolt key. The exact key to apartment 4B in Queens. The apartment I had grown up in.
"How do you have this?" I whispered.
"Because I didn't hunt your grandmother to kill her, Leo," Viktor said softly, the malice dropping from his voice. "I am her apprentice. I bought that apartment building twenty years ago to ensure you were never evicted. I have been protecting you from Elias Thorne since the day you were born."
The world tilted on its axis. I looked at the man holding me captive, and the man who had supposedly "rescued" me.
"Then why did you put a bomb around her neck?" I asked, pointing a shaking finger at Viktor.
Before Viktor could answer, a small side door opened. A little girl, no older than seven, walked into the massive library. She wore a thick wool sweater and held a small, intricate clockwork bird in her hands. The bird was singing a mechanical tune.
My heart stopped.
May you like
It was the exact syncopated rhythm my grandmother had taught me. The secret 4/4 time signature.
"I didn't put a bomb on her neck, Leo," Viktor said, his voice breaking as he looked at the little girl. "Elias did. When he raided our safehouse three days ago. Because Elias knows that if I open the Cylinder, the Thorne empire burns. He forced me to hijack his helicopter to bring you here."
