Chapter 7 - THE KEVLAR GOWN
I stared at the glowing red numbers on the explosive charge strapped to the wedding dress. 04:12. Four minutes and twelve seconds.
“She wired the foundation,” Gabriel breathed, walking slowly toward the glass enclosure. “Elena knew Madeline was coming for her. She knew Madeline would eventually try to take this house. She turned her own wedding dress into a dead man’s switch.”
“Gabriel, it’s a bomb!” I panicked, gripping Lily so tightly she whimpered. “We have to get out of here!”
“There’s nowhere to go, Mrs. Carter,” Gabriel said, his voice terrifyingly steady as he looked around the stone basement. “Rossi said the cliff tunnel was collapsed. Madeline’s men are upstairs. If we run back into the house, we get shot. If we stay, the house comes down on top of us.”
Sofia walked closer to the glass. She wasn't looking at the bomb. She was looking at the delicate Venetian lace trimming the hem of the Kevlar gown.
“That’s the lace,” Sofia whispered. “The lace Madeline said she cut from the dress.”
“Madeline lied,” Gabriel said, tracing his hand over the thick glass. “She didn't take the dress to a seamstress to steal the lace. She found this room. She found the bomb. She cut the lace off a replica dress to convince Sofia the original was destroyed, so Sofia would never come looking for this room.”
My mind spun. “But if Madeline knew about the bomb, why didn't she disarm it? Why didn't she just leave the house?”
“Because she couldn't,” Gabriel realized, a grim smile touching his lips. “Look at the detonator wiring.”
I stepped closer, squinting through the glass. The explosive charge wasn't just strapped to the dress. The wiring was intricately woven directly into the lace patterns, looping through the heavy Kevlar seams.
“It’s sewn in,” I said, my seamstress eyes tracing the delicate, deadly threadwork. “The wires are threaded through the French seams. If you pull the dress off the mannequin, or if you try to cut the fabric to remove the bomb, the tension snaps the wire and detonates the charge.”
“Elena was a master seamstress,” Gabriel said softly. “She wove her own security system. Madeline couldn't disarm it without blowing herself up, and she couldn't leave the house without giving up the fifty-million-dollar estate she just murdered her sister to claim.”
“So she just left it here?” I asked, horrified.
“She left it here, locked the basement, and planned to keep me and Sofia away from it until she figured out how to defuse it,” Gabriel said. He looked at the timer. 03:45.
“Gabriel, why is the timer counting down now?” I asked, my voice rising in panic.
Gabriel looked down at his hands. He was still holding the iron key ring Rossi had given him.
“Because Rossi triggered it,” Gabriel said quietly. “The old man knew he was going to die upstairs. He turned the key from the master control panel in the hallway before he threw the ring to me. He’s taking Madeline and her men down with him.”
03:30.
“Gabriel, we have three minutes!” I screamed, pulling Lily toward the dark corners of the cellar, desperately looking for an air vent, a window, anything.
Sofia stood calmly in front of the glass. She reached into the pocket of her little jacket.
She pulled out the small brass key she had shown her father in the ballroom. The key she had found taped under Elena’s sewing machine.
“Dad,” Sofia said. “The tag on this key had your name on it.”
Gabriel turned. He looked at the small brass key in his daughter’s hand. He looked at the glass enclosure.
On the side of the glass case, beneath a heavy steel latch, was a small brass keyhole.
Gabriel snatched the key from Sofia. He jammed it into the lock and turned. The heavy glass door swung open with a hiss of pressurized air.
He didn't reach for the bomb. He reached beneath the Kevlar wedding dress, feeling along the heavy oak base of the mannequin.
He pulled out a heavy, forged steel crowbar, and a hand-drawn map.
Gabriel unfolded the map. It was drawn on the back of Elena’s dressmaking stationery.
“The cliff tunnel isn't the only way out,” Gabriel read, his eyes scanning the paper rapidly. “She built a storm drain access behind the wine casks on the north wall. It drops straight down into the bay.”
He grabbed the crowbar, sprinting to the north wall where floor-to-ceiling wine racks held hundreds of dusty bottles. He swung the heavy steel bar, smashing through the antique wood and shattering glass. Dark red wine bled across the stone floor as he violently pried the heavy oak shelving away from the wall.
Behind the rack was a rusted iron grate.
02:15.
Gabriel jammed the crowbar under the grate and heaved. The veins in his neck bulged as the rusted iron shrieked, finally popping loose and clattering to the stone floor. A rush of cold, salty ocean air blasted into the cellar.
“Go!” Gabriel yelled, grabbing Lily and shoving her gently but quickly into the dark chute. “It’s a water slide, it drops into the ocean cove! Swim for the lights of the pier!”
I didn't hesitate. I climbed into the chute, the cold metal slick against my skin, and slid into the darkness, holding my breath as I plunged into the freezing, churning waters of the bay. I surfaced instantly, gasping for air, and found Lily treading water beside me in her little blue dress.
A second later, Sofia splashed down beside us.
I looked up at the black opening of the drainage pipe high on the cliff face. Gabriel hadn't come out yet.
“Gabriel!” I screamed over the roaring waves.
In the distance, high above on the cliffs, the massive stone mansion was suddenly illuminated by a blinding, brilliant flash of white light.
A fraction of a second later, the concussive shockwave hit the water, followed by a deafening, earth-shattering roar. The entire east wing of the Moretti estate blew outward in a spectacular eruption of fire, glass, and pulverized stone, lighting the stormy night sky in brilliant orange.
The heat washed over us even in the freezing water.
I held the girls tightly against my chest as debris rained down into the ocean fifty yards away. We floated in the dark, watching the mafia fortress burn to the ground.
Then, the water beside me broke.
Gabriel surfaced, gasping for air, his dark suit ruined, his face bruised and bleeding. But he was alive.
He swam to Sofia, wrapping his arms around her tightly as they bobbed in the freezing waves.
“I’ve got you,” Gabriel whispered, kissing the top of his daughter’s wet hair. “I’ve got you, piccola.”
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He looked at me, treading water beside them with Lily. The firelight from his burning empire reflected in his dark eyes.
“It’s over,” Gabriel said.
