Chapter 5 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Elena screamed Peter’s name.
Marcus tightened his grip.
“Stay back.”
Grant raised his hands.
His vision pulsed.
Light.
Darkness.
Shapes.
Marcus’s white coat stood out clearly.
“What do you want?” Grant asked.
Marcus smiled.
“The drive.”
Victor shouted from cover.
“Don’t.”
Marcus fired into the ceiling.
Elena flinched.
Peter whispered, “Don’t give him anything.”
Marcus struck him.
Elena lunged.
Grant caught her.
“Not yet.”
She turned on him.
“That’s my husband.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her voice broke.
“You don’t know what four years feels like.”
Grant’s expression hardened.
Actually, he did.
Five years in darkness.
Five years stolen.
But he let her anger stand.
Marcus shouted.
“Drive!”
Victor stepped out.
“I have it.”
Marcus pointed the gun toward him.
Victor held up Peter’s data drive.
“You want this?”
Marcus’s face changed.
“Yes.”
Victor smiled.
“Come get it.”
Grant whispered to Daniel.
“Lights.”
Daniel understood.
The warehouse went black.
Marcus shouted.
Gunfire erupted.
Grant did not need clear vision.
Darkness had been his world.
He counted footsteps.
Three left.
One behind.
Marcus breathed quickly.
Grant moved.
Someone swung.
Grant ducked by sound.
He struck.
Bone cracked.
Elena crawled toward Peter.
Victor fired toward the catwalk.
Daniel’s men advanced.
Marcus dragged Peter backward.
Then Lily’s flashlight appeared in Grant’s memory.
Following light.
He saw a tiny red laser dot moving through darkness.
Marcus’s gun.
Grant tracked it.
He lunged.
His shoulder hit Marcus.
Both men crashed down.
The gun skidded away.
Peter fell sideways.
Elena reached him.
“Peter.”
He stared at her.
“Elena.”
She touched his face.
Real.
Warm.
Alive.
She began crying.
“You’re alive.”
“I’m sorry.”
She slapped him.
Then kissed him.
Then slapped him again.
Grant pinned Marcus.
“Five years.”
Marcus laughed beneath him.
“You still don’t understand.”
Grant hit him.
“Five years.”
Marcus spat blood.
“I saved you.”
Grant stopped.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
Marcus smiled.
“Because it’s true.”
Daniel cuffed him.
Rizzo escaped.
The sniper disappeared.
But Peter was alive.
Back at the secure apartment, Lily saw him.
She stopped in the hallway.
Peter dropped to his knees.
He had rehearsed this moment for four years.
Every word vanished.
Lily stared.
“You’re the picture.”
Peter broke.
“Yes.”
“My daddy picture?”
“Yes.”
Lily looked at Elena.
“Mama?”
Elena nodded through tears.
Lily approached slowly.
Touched Peter’s beard.
“You got fuzzy.”
Everyone laughed.
Even Grant.
Peter began sobbing.
Lily hugged him.
Grant turned away.
His vision had improved enough that he could see the shape of the embrace.
It hurt.
Beautifully.
Rebecca took Marcus’s medication records.
Marcus refused to cooperate.
Grant sat across from him.
“No lawyers.”
Marcus smiled.
“You still think this is about law?”
“It’s about truth.”
“Truth is expensive.”
“I can afford it.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“Can you afford what it costs Elena?”
Grant’s face hardened.
“Explain.”
Marcus looked toward the next room, where Peter sat with Lily.
“Peter knows.”
Grant called him in.
Peter entered.
Elena followed.
Marcus smiled.
“Tell them.”
Peter looked exhausted.
“Anthony Rizzo didn’t order the explosion.”
“We know,” Grant said.
“Neither did Marcus.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed.
Marcus smiled.
Peter continued.
“The order came from inside Mercer Holdings.”
Victor frowned.
“Who?”
Peter looked at him.
“You.”
Victor went still.
“That’s absurd.”
Peter shook his head.
“Your authorization code.”
“Stolen.”
“Voice confirmation.”
“Fake.”
“Biometric approval.”
Victor laughed.
“You think I tried to kill my own brother?”
Peter stared.
“I think someone wanted it to look like you did.”
Grant spoke.
“Who had access to Victor’s biometrics?”
Daniel answered.
“Family medical records.”
Everyone looked at Marcus.
Marcus smiled.
“There we are.”
Grant’s voice became cold.
“You forged Victor’s authorization?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Marcus looked at Peter.
Peter closed his eyes.
“Grant’s father.”
Silence.
Grant’s father had died twelve years earlier.
Peter continued.
“His trust.”
Victor frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Peter explained.
Their father, Samuel Mercer, created a secret succession protocol.
If either son endangered the organization, a board of three trustees could remove him.
Permanently.
Marcus.
Rizzo.
And one unknown third trustee.
“The explosion was a succession order,” Peter said.
Grant stared.
“Who was the third?”
“I never found out.”
Marcus smiled.
“I did.”
Everyone looked at him.
Grant said, “Name.”
Marcus leaned back.
“Not until I have immunity.”
Grant laughed.
“You’re negotiating with the man you drugged blind.”
“Yes.”
“Poor strategy.”
Marcus shrugged.
“Kill me and the name dies.”
Rebecca entered.
“No, it doesn’t.”
She held the syringe analysis.
Marcus’s smile faded.
Rebecca placed a report on the table.
“The compound in your syringe has a manufacturing marker.”
Marcus said nothing.
“Hawthorne Medical Research.”
Grant remembered the payments.
Rebecca continued.
“Hawthorne’s majority owner is hidden behind shell corporations.”
Victor asked, “Who?”
Rebecca looked at Grant.
“Mercer Family Trust.”
Grant frowned.
“That trust was dissolved.”
“No.”
Peter whispered, “That’s what I discovered.”
The family trust still existed.
Someone had controlled it for twelve years.
Someone authorized payments.
Someone paid Marcus.
Someone ordered the attack.
Daniel searched old corporate records.
One trustee signature appeared repeatedly.
Initials only.
E.M.
Grant frowned.
No Mercer relative matched.
Victor whispered, “Wait.”
Grant turned.
Victor’s voice changed.
“Evelyn Mercer.”
Grant froze.
Their mother.
She had died two years after his blindness.
Grant shook his head.
“No.”
Victor stared at the records.
“She was a trustee.”
Grant stood.
“My mother would never—”
Marcus laughed.
“You never knew your mother.”
Grant grabbed him.
“Careful.”
Marcus smiled.
“She ordered the explosion.”
Grant’s hands trembled.
“No.”
“She ordered Victor’s removal too.”
Victor stepped forward.
“You’re lying.”
Marcus continued.
“She thought both of you were destroying what Samuel built.”
Grant released him.
His newly returning world blurred.
Memories attacked him.
His mother sitting beside his hospital bed.
Her hand in his.
Her voice promising everything would be all right.
Had she known?
Had she ordered it?
Peter stepped forward.
“There’s one way to know.”
He removed a brass key from beneath his shirt.
“I kept this for four years.”
Elena stared.
“What does it open?”
“Samuel Mercer’s private vault.”
Victor frowned.
“That vault was emptied after Dad died.”
“No.”
Peter looked at Grant.
“The real vault.”
“Where?”
Peter swallowed.
“Under your mother’s grave.”
Nobody spoke.
Grant felt sick.
The next morning they went to the cemetery.
Private grounds.
No staff.
Victor found the concealed mechanism beneath the stone base.
The brass key turned.
A section slid open.
Inside was a waterproof case.
Grant opened it.
Documents.
A recorder.
Photographs.
And one sealed envelope.
On the front, written in his mother’s handwriting:
FOR GRANT — WHEN YOU CAN SEE AGAIN.
Grant stared at the letters.
For the first time in five years, he could actually read his own name.
He reached for the envelope.
Then Peter grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t open it.”
Grant looked at him.
Peter’s face had gone white.
“Why?”
Peter pointed beneath the envelope.
A tiny red light was blinking.
A timer appeared.
00:19.
00:18.
May you like
00:17.
And counting.
