Chapter 10 - The Ship That Never Sank
Edmund moved first.
He struck the agent’s wrist.
The gun discharged into the boat console.
Vivian ducked.
Gabriel grabbed the wheel.
The boat veered.
Edmund wrestled the attacker to the deck.
“Who sent you?”
The man laughed.
“You still think Salvatore is the top?”
Edmund hit him.
“Name.”
“You’re already too late.”
“For what?”
“The Aurelia wasn’t carrying the real shipment.”
Vivian went cold.
“What real shipment?”
The man smiled at her.
“Ask your mother about the ship that never sank.”
Gabriel stared.
“Orpheus.”
The smile vanished.
Edmund noticed.
“What is Orpheus?”
Gabriel turned the boat toward the terminal.
“Fifteen years ago a Moretti freighter supposedly sank in the Atlantic.”
“Supposedly?”
“It never did.”
Vivian remembered the name from childhood.
The loss had nearly bankrupted the company.
“My father collected insurance.”
“Yes.”
“Where did the ship go?”
“Salvatore changed its registration.”
Edmund understood.
“A ghost ship.”
Gabriel nodded.
“A floating archive. No national registry. No predictable port.”
“What does it carry?”
“Everything.”
The man on the deck laughed.
“Not everything.”
Vivian looked at him.
“What?”
“People.”
Again.
Rage replaced fear.
“Where?”
He smiled.
“Tonight? Bellhaven.”
Gabriel accelerated.
They reached the old Moretti terminal.
Smoke already rose from a warehouse.
Salvatore had arrived.
Vivian ran inside.
Shelves of documents burned.
Evelyn stood near the back.
“Mom!”
She was fighting Salvatore.
Vivian grabbed a metal bar.
Edmund reached Salvatore first.
Father and son collided.
There was nothing elegant about it.
No mafia mythology.
Just an old man who had poisoned his family and a son who had spent years becoming everything he believed strength required.
Salvatore struck Edmund.
Edmund hit back.
Gabriel entered.
Salvatore saw him and smiled through blood.
“My failures together.”
“No,” Gabriel said. “Your consequences.”
Federal agents poured inside.
Salvatore backed toward the flames.
Then Vivian saw him reach for a pistol.
“Edmund!”
She swung the bar.
The gun fell.
Agents tackled Salvatore.
For the first time in fifteen years, he was in custody.
Evelyn embraced Vivian.
“It’s over.”
Vivian looked at the burning archive.
“No.”
She remembered the boat attacker.
“Orpheus.”
Evelyn’s face changed.
“How do you know that name?”
“It’s here.”
“No.”
“It is.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“If Orpheus entered Bellhaven, Salvatore wasn’t escaping.”
“What was he doing?”
“Distracting us.”
Edmund turned.
“From the ship.”
They searched Salvatore.
A satellite phone.
Recent coordinates.
Gabriel entered them.
A location appeared three miles offshore.
Orpheus.
Moving toward international waters.
Federal Coast Guard units were notified.
But Evelyn grabbed Vivian.
“There’s something else aboard.”
“What?”
“The original Aurelia files.”
“We have enough evidence.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
Her eyes filled.
“I hid something on Orpheus before I disappeared.”
“What?”
“A list.”
“Of victims?”
“Of children.”
Vivian waited.
“Children taken through Salvatore’s network who were never reunited with their families.”
Edmund’s face hardened.
“How many?”
“Hundreds.”
The Coast Guard intercepted Orpheus forty minutes later.
No shots.
The crew surrendered.
The containers were opened.
Thirty-seven people were rescued.
Documents were recovered.
Computers seized.
The network that had operated behind respectable businesses for fifteen years began collapsing before sunrise.
Judges were arrested.
Police officers suspended.
Accounts frozen.
Vivian stood on the dock watching survivors receive blankets.
A little girl emerged holding a stuffed rabbit.
Vivian knelt.
“You’re safe.”
The child stared at her.
“Where’s my mom?”
Vivian’s heart broke.
“We’ll find her.”
The girl held out her hand.
Vivian took it.
Edmund watched from several feet away.
For all his power, he looked helpless.
Then the child released Vivian and was taken toward paramedics.
Edmund approached.
“You shouldn’t promise things you can’t guarantee.”
Vivian wiped her eyes.
“I know.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because somebody has to try.”
He touched her cheek.
“That’s going to get you into trouble.”
“I married trouble.”
“You were coerced.”
“Details.”
He almost smiled.
A federal investigator approached.
“We found the victim archive.”
Vivian exhaled.
“Good.”
“There’s a problem.”
“What?”
“One name appears repeatedly.”
The investigator handed her a file.
Vivian opened it.
A photograph of a little girl.
Blonde.
Eleven years old.
Her.
Classification:
SUBJECT V.
Status:
DO NOT HARM.
Reason:
ASSET OWNERSHIP PENDING.
Vivian stared.
“What does asset ownership mean?”
The investigator looked uncomfortable.
“There’s a second page.”
She turned it.
A legal document.
Signed by Victor Moretti.
It appeared to transfer custody rights over Vivian to an offshore trust.
The beneficiary was not Salvatore.
It was someone named Evelyn Moretti.
Vivian looked at her mother.
Evelyn had disappeared.
Her phone lay on the ground.
Beside it was a note.
May you like
I HAVE TO FINISH WHAT I STARTED.
And at the bottom was an address Vivian had never seen.
