Chapter 5 - The Costello Rule
“Harper.”
Meline’s voice barely existed.
Her best friend’s gun remained steady.
Dominic shifted.
Greg’s men aimed at him.
“Don’t,” Greg warned.
Harper’s eyes met Meline’s.
Then she fired.
Meline flinched.
The bullet struck the man behind her.
He collapsed.
Chaos erupted.
Harper shouted, “Run!”
Dominic overturned a steel table.
Victor fired.
Meline dropped behind the table as bullets tore through boxes of records.
Greg screamed at his men.
Harper reached Meline first.
“I’m sorry.”
“You could explain later!”
“Good idea.”
They ran.
Dominic covered them.
Victor threw a smoke canister.
Within seconds the vault disappeared behind gray clouds.
Meline followed Harper through a secondary passage.
“How did you know this was here?”
“My father.”
“Apparently everyone’s father knew more about my life than I did!”
They reached an old freight shaft.
Harper stopped.
“Jump.”
Meline stared down.
“No.”
“It’s twelve feet.”
“That is still twelve more feet than I enjoy falling.”
Gunfire approached.
Meline jumped.
She landed badly.
Dominic came down behind her.
Then Harper.
Victor never appeared.
“Victor!” Dominic shouted.
Nothing.
A shot echoed above.
Dominic started climbing back.
Meline grabbed him.
“No.”
“He stayed for us.”
“And going back gets you killed.”
His eyes burned.
Meline held on.
Finally, he stopped.
They escaped through a storm drain.
Outside, Dominic’s people surrounded them.
Meline expected him to order everyone around.
Instead, he stood staring at the tunnel.
Victor had served his family for thirty years.
The loss hit him.
Meline touched his arm.
“I’m sorry.”
He looked at her hand.
Then her face.
“There’s a rule in my family.”
“What?”
“Never mourn until you see a body.”
“Useful.”
“It has been.”
They returned to the mansion.
Harper finally confessed everything.
Her father and Thomas had been partners.
After Thomas died, Harper’s father assigned his daughter to watch Meline.
Then he disappeared too.
“Crown killed him,” Harper said.
“Who is Crown?”
“I don’t know.”
“Greg?”
“No. Greg works for Crown.”
Dominic poured bourbon.
Meline took the glass from him and drank it herself.
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve had a complicated day.”
“So have I.”
“You have another bottle.”
He almost smiled.
Harper spread documents across the table.
“Crown wants B-17 because Thomas stored proof of every member of the network.”
“But the identifying page was missing,” Meline said.
Harper nodded.
“Thomas probably moved it.”
“Where?”
Nobody knew.
Meline remembered her father’s obsession with buildings.
Old walls reveal what people try to hide.
Her own words at Belladonna.
Words she had learned from him.
“What if it isn’t in B-17?”
Dominic looked at her.
“What?”
“My father never trusted safes.”
“He built one.”
“To make people look there.”
Meline stood.
“The real evidence would be somewhere ordinary.”
Her apartment.
She suddenly knew.
The photograph.
The message.
DON’T TRUST A COSTELLO.
It had been placed on her desk.
But the photograph itself came from an old frame.
A frame she had owned since childhood.
“My apartment.”
They returned before dawn.
Meline removed the backing from the frame.
Nothing.
Then she noticed the cardboard was too thick.
She cut it open.
A micro-SD card fell out.
Harper gasped.
Dominic inserted it into a secure laptop.
One video.
Thomas Hayes appeared.
“If you’re seeing this, Crown found the vault.”
Meline covered her mouth.
Her father continued.
“Do not trust the obvious enemy. Crown has survived because everyone believes power belongs to the loudest man in the room.”
The video glitched.
Then resumed.
“The real leader is someone Dominic will trust without question.”
Dominic went still.
The video stopped.
Corrupted.
Harper tried restoring it.
A knock sounded at the apartment door.
Three slow knocks.
Dominic drew his gun.
“Who knows we’re here?”
Nobody answered.
The knock came again.
Meline approached the peephole.
Dominic pulled her back.
He opened the door himself.
The hallway was empty.
A package sat on the floor.
Inside was Victor’s watch.
Covered in blood.
And beneath it, a handwritten note:
COME TO COSTELLO HOUSE ALONE, DOMINIC.
Dominic stared at the handwriting.
Meline saw recognition.
“Whose writing is that?”
He didn’t answer.
She grabbed his wrist.
“Dominic.”
His face had turned pale.
“My mother’s.”
Meline frowned.
“You said your mother was dead.”
May you like
“She is.”
Then a phone inside the package began to ring...
