Chapter 8 - The Boy in the Garage
The lower garage smelled of gasoline and cold concrete.
Adrian descended first.
Vincent stayed behind him despite every order to wait.
“Leo!” Vincent shouted.
No answer.
They reached the final landing.
A child whimpered.
Adrian raised one hand.
Silence.
He edged around the door.
Thirty vehicles sat under white overhead lights.
Near the center aisle, an eight-year-old boy was tied to a chair.
Leo Bellini.
His school uniform was dirty. One cheek was bruised. Tape covered his mouth.
No armed men visible.
Too easy.
Adrian whispered, “Vincent, stay.”
Vincent stepped forward anyway.
“Leo!”
The boy’s eyes widened violently.
He shook his head.
Adrian saw it.
Warning.
“Stop!”
A laser dot appeared on Vincent’s chest.
Adrian tackled him.
A bullet struck the concrete wall.
Gunfire erupted from the far mezzanine.
Adrian fired twice toward muzzle flash.
Security officers rushed in behind them.
Vincent crawled toward a pillar.
“Leo!”
The boy sobbed through the tape.
Adrian saw a thin wire beneath the chair.
Explosive?
Alarm?
He shouted, “Nobody touches the chair!”
Mateo’s voice came over radio.
“Bomb team moving!”
Shots continued.
One attacker dropped from the mezzanine and ran between cars.
Adrian stayed low.
His throat burned.
His lungs were still recovering.
Every breath reminded him he should be in bed.
He ignored it.
A guard shouted, “Shooter down!”
Another attacker surrendered.
Then silence.
Bomb technicians approached Leo.
The wire was connected not to explosives but to a pressure alarm.
If the chair moved, an emergency door would lock and flood the garage with smoke.
Falcone wanted panic.
They cut it.
Vincent rushed forward.
“Leo!”
The boy collapsed into his grandfather.
Vincent ripped off the tape.
Leo sobbed.
“Grandpa, I’m sorry.”
“No, no, no.”
“They said you had to do something bad.”
Vincent broke.
Adrian looked away.
He had seen too many men justify cruelty through children.
The boy clung to Vincent.
“They said if you didn’t poison Mr. Moretti, they would hurt me.”
Adrian crouched.
Leo looked at him.
“Did Grandpa do it?”
Vincent closed his eyes.
Adrian answered carefully.
“Your grandfather was scared.”
“That means yes?”
Children rarely allow adults the comfort of euphemism.
Adrian nodded.
“Yes.”
Leo began crying again.
“Are you mad?”
Adrian looked at Vincent.
“Yes.”
Vincent flinched.
Then Adrian looked at Leo.
“But anger is for adults to carry. Not you.”
Leo stared.
Adrian stood.
“Take them upstairs.”
A guard led Vincent and Leo away.
Mateo arrived.
His face was pale.
“Gabriel?”
“Not here.”
“Prisoner?”
“Alive.”
They entered a service room where the captured attacker sat handcuffed.
Mateo looked at him.
“Who ordered the garage hit?”
The man said nothing.
Mateo crouched.
“Gabriel Vance?”
The prisoner’s eyes flickered.
Enough.
Mateo stood.
“He’s here.”
Adrian said, “Maybe.”
“Boss—”
“Don’t chase the brother you remember. Find the man he became.”
Mateo’s jaw tightened.
The prisoner laughed.
“You think Gabriel cares about him?”
Mateo turned.
“What?”
“He says you were always the soft one.”
Mateo hit the wall beside the man’s head.
The prisoner flinched.
Adrian said, “Enough.”
Mateo stepped back.
The man smiled.
“Falcone’s got Noah. Gabriel’s got the girl.”
Adrian’s blood went cold.
“What girl?”
The prisoner laughed.
“Little allergy princess.”
Adrian grabbed the radio.
“Hannah!”
Static.
“Secure wing, respond!”
Nothing.
He ran.
By the time he reached the third floor, two guards were unconscious.
The secure-room door stood open.
Hannah was on the floor.
Blood ran from a cut near her temple.
Adrian dropped beside her.
“Where’s Ellie?”
Hannah opened her eyes.
“He took her.”
“Who?”
“Mateo.”
Adrian stared.
“That’s impossible. Mateo was with me.”
Hannah shook her head.
“Same face.”
Gabriel.
Twin?
Mateo came through the door.
Hannah recoiled.
“Get away!”
Adrian raised his gun instinctively.
Mateo froze.
“Boss.”
Hannah pointed.
“That’s him.”
“No,” Adrian said. “This is Mateo.”
“How do you know?”
Adrian looked at his security chief.
A scar ran along Mateo’s neck.
The man who took Ellie had likely hidden his.
“Gabriel looks like you?”
Mateo’s face emptied.
“Identical twin.”
Hannah began crying.
“He wore a scarf.”
Adrian stood.
“Where did he take her?”
Hannah shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Then they heard a tiny electronic chirp.
Ellie’s rabbit lay on the floor.
The tracker had been removed earlier.
But something else inside it was making noise.
Mateo opened the seam.
A second transmitter.
Noah had hidden more than one.
Its display showed a location.
Moving.
West.
Adrian stared at the coordinates.
Mateo whispered, “Pier Thirty-One.”
Hannah stood despite dizziness.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“She is my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Then stop telling me to wait in safe rooms that aren’t safe.”
Adrian had no answer.
Mateo said, “We take two teams.”
Adrian looked at Hannah.
“You stay in the armored vehicle.”
“No promises.”
“Of course.”
They moved.
As the convoy left the estate, Adrian’s phone rang.
Dominic Falcone.
He answered.
A child’s voice came first.
“Mr. Adrian?”
Ellie.
Adrian closed his eyes.
“I’m here.”
“I don’t like this car.”
“I know.”
“Mommy?”
“She’s safe.”
“Are you coming?”
“Yes.”
A man took the phone.
Dominic.
“She asks good questions.”
Adrian’s voice became deadly calm.
“If you hurt her—”
“I don’t hurt children.”
Adrian laughed once.
“You kidnapped two tonight.”
“Leverage is not injury.”
“Tell yourself that at trial.”
Dominic chuckled.
“You think police are where this ends?”
“What do you want?”
“The card.”
“You already know it’s encrypted.”
“And Noah knows the password.”
“Then why Ellie?”
“Because Noah won’t talk.”
Adrian looked at Hannah.
She heard every word through speaker.
Dominic continued.
“But fathers become reasonable when daughters cry.”
Hannah’s face broke.
Adrian said, “Where is Noah?”
“With me.”
“Put him on.”
A pause.
Then a man’s voice.
Weak.
“Hannah?”
She made a sound that was half sob, half gasp.
“Noah?”
“Hannah, I’m sorry.”
She pressed both hands over her mouth.
Two years.
Two years of mourning.
And his voice was alive.
Noah continued.
“Don’t give them the card.”
Dominic took the phone back.
“Pier Thirty-One. Midnight.”
Adrian looked at the dashboard clock.
11:18.
“Bring the card,” Dominic said. “Or the little girl learns what happens when adults refuse to cooperate.”
The line died.
Hannah whispered, “Forty-two minutes.”
Adrian looked toward the city lights.
“No.”
“What?”
“He wants us rushing.”
“Then what do we do?”
May you like
Adrian’s eyes turned cold.
“We make him wait.”
