Chapter 9 - The police stormed the warehouse.Or at least they tried.
Within thirty seconds, three of their radios went dead.
Then the lights outside disappeared.
Then the sirens stopped.
A voice came over their loudspeaker.
“Move.”
A door exploded inward.
Men in black tactical clothing flooded the warehouse.
Not police.
Not Moretti security.
Something else.
Adrian fired first.
Alexander followed.
Luca dragged me behind a steel container.
Peter crawled toward the nearest wall.
“Who are they?” I shouted.
Peter answered:
“Delacroix.”
The word felt poisonous.
Adrian shot one man in the shoulder.
Another dropped.
A third reached us.
Alexander tackled him.
He fought like someone who had been trained young.
Too young.
When the gunfire stopped, eight men were down.
Three escaped.
The police outside were gone.
No bodies.
No explanation.
Only one surviving man.
Adrian dragged him forward.
“Who sent you?”
The man laughed.
“Your mother.”
Everyone froze.
“Where is she?”
The man smiled.
“You're already too late.”
Adrian raised his weapon.
I stepped between them.
“Wait.”
The man's eyes moved to me.
“Samuel Vaughn's daughter.”
I felt my blood run cold.
“You know my father?”
“He knew you.”
“What does that mean?”
The man laughed.
“He knew you'd be here.”
I stared.
He continued.
“Samuel planned everything six months before he died.”
“My father knew?”
“Yes.”
“He sent me.”
“No.”
The man's smile widened.
“He sent you to Adrian.”
Adrian went still.
“Why?”
The man looked toward the two USB drives.
“To wake the lion.”
Then he bit down.
Luca reacted instantly.
“Poison!”
Too late.
The man collapsed.
Dead.
Adrian stared at the body.
“This isn't over.”
Peter laughed weakly.
“No.”
Adrian turned.
Peter pointed toward the second USB.
“You have sixteen minutes.”
The countdown continued on the wall monitor.
16:42
“What's happening in sixteen minutes?” I asked.
Peter closed his eyes.
“Every account connected to Delacroix will be emptied.”
“By who?”
“Whoever controls the network.”
Adrian looked at Luca.
“Can you stop it?”
Luca shook his head.
“Not from here.”
I opened the drive.
A map appeared.
New Orleans.
Seven red points.
One was the Moretti building.
One was the old cellar.
One was the port.
One was police headquarters.
One was city hall.
The last two were unfamiliar.
Then a message appeared.
GO TO THE PLACE WHERE ELEANOR WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE.
Adrian stared.
“The highway.”
I nodded.
We left the warehouse through the underground tunnel.
The rain had stopped.
New Orleans looked strangely quiet.
We drove toward the highway where Eleanor's accident had happened.
The road was almost empty.
At mile marker 117, Adrian slowed.
“This is it.”
There was nothing there.
Just trees.
A broken guardrail.
And an old concrete drainage tunnel.
I looked at the map.
“The signal is inside.”
We entered.
Twenty yards in, the tunnel opened into a hidden room.
There was a chair.
A table.
A wall of monitors.
And a woman sitting in the darkness.
Eleanor.
Adrian stopped breathing.
She turned.
Seventeen years had changed her.
Her hair was almost completely silver.
But her eyes were the same.
“Little lion.”
Adrian walked toward her.
His hands shook.
“Mom.”
Eleanor stood.
For a moment neither moved.
Then Adrian embraced her.
She held him tightly.
And whispered into his ear:
“I am so sorry.”
I stepped forward.
Eleanor looked at me.
“You're Clara.”
“Yes.”
She smiled sadly.
“Your father chose well.”
I swallowed.
“What did he choose me for?”
Eleanor looked toward the monitors.
“For the last piece.”
She touched one screen.
A final folder appeared.
VITTORIO.
Adrian's face changed.
Eleanor whispered:
“Your father didn't die eight years ago.”
Peter, standing behind us, lowered his head.
Eleanor continued.
“He has been alive.”
May you like
She looked directly at Adrian.
“And he's been waiting for you.”
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