Chapter 8 - Blackwood's Offer
The lights inside the private vault dimmed.
Lorenzo reached the door.
Locked.
His phone had no signal.
Lydia looked around.
“You carry a gun?”
“Yes.”
“Useful against bank architecture?”
“No.”
“Just checking.”
A speaker crackled overhead.
Then Roland Blackwood's voice filled the room.
“Lorenzo.”
Lorenzo's face became stone.
“Blackwood.”
“I assume Ms. Coppola is with you.”
Lydia stepped beneath the speaker.
“Unfortunately for you.”
Blackwood laughed.
“I see why Lorenzo likes you.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
She ignored that.
“What do you want?”
“The card.”
“Come get it.”
“I'd rather trade.”
“For?”
“Vincent Rizzo.”
Lorenzo went still.
“You have him?”
“Yes.”
A monitor activated.
Vincent appeared tied to a chair.
Bruised.
Alive.
Blackwood continued.
“Vincent stole from both of us. He became inconvenient.”
Lydia looked at the photograph from the deposit box.
The third person standing beside her father and Mateo was Carlo DeSantis.
Lorenzo's current security chief.
The man controlling the estate lockdown.
The man who supposedly couldn't find Vincent.
“Lorenzo.”
She handed him the photograph.
His reaction was almost imperceptible.
Blackwood kept talking.
“Give me the card and Vincent is yours.”
“No.”
“Then perhaps I send him back in pieces.”
“Do what you want.”
Vincent suddenly shouted from the monitor.
“Lorenzo! Carlo—”
The feed cut.
Lydia and Lorenzo exchanged a look.
Carlo.
Blackwood had confirmed it accidentally.
Or intentionally.
Either way, the estate was compromised.
“How do we get out?” Lydia whispered.
Lorenzo studied the ceiling.
“Fire system.”
“You planning to burn the bank?”
“Not today.”
He removed his jacket.
Together they triggered the heat sensor using the emergency light housing and a lighter from Lorenzo's pocket.
Alarms screamed.
The vault released automatically.
They exited through evacuation chaos.
In the car Lorenzo called nobody at the estate.
“Mateo,” Lydia said.
“I know.”
“He's with Carlo.”
“I know.”
The two words contained terror.
They drove toward Lake Forest.
Lydia examined the microSD card on an isolated tablet.
There was one video.
Frank appeared.
Beside him sat Mateo before his injury.
Mateo could speak.
Hearing his voice hit Lydia harder than expected.
“If something happens to me,” Mateo said on the recording, “Lorenzo cannot trust the security chain.”
Frank asked, “Including Carlo?”
Mateo hesitated.
“Especially Carlo.”
Lorenzo gripped the steering wheel.
On screen, Mateo explained that Carlo had been feeding information to Charles Vane long before Vincent joined the conspiracy.
Vincent wasn't the architect.
He was the replacement.
Carlo had been the original leak.
“Why keep him?” Lydia asked.
“Because nobody suspected him.”
The video continued.
Frank placed documents into a folder.
Mateo said, “If they come after me, the evidence goes to Lydia.”
Frank smiled.
“She'll hate that.”
“She'll survive it.”
Lydia stared at the younger Mateo.
“You knew me before we met.”
On screen Mateo answered a question from six years ago.
“Frank talks about his daughter constantly.”
Lydia's eyes filled.
Lorenzo glanced at her.
“Your father was proud of you.”
“Don't.”
“What?”
“Be nice while I'm trying not to cry.”
He almost smiled.
Then his phone rang.
Carlo.
Lorenzo answered on speaker.
“Boss.”
“Carlo.”
“Where are you?”
“Driving.”
“We have a situation.”
Lydia mouthed, Play dumb.
“What situation?”
“Mateo's missing.”
Lorenzo's knuckles whitened.
“What?”
“Someone took him from the east wing.”
Lydia closed her eyes.
Carlo continued.
“We think Blackwood breached the estate.”
Lorenzo's voice remained perfectly calm.
“I'm coming home.”
He ended the call.
For three seconds neither spoke.
Then Lydia said, “He's lying.”
“Yes.”
“Mateo isn't missing.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because Carlo wants you to rush home. If Mateo were truly gone, he'd give you details. Time. Vehicle. Direction. He gave you panic.”
Lorenzo changed lanes.
“Where are we going?”
“Not home.”
He understood.
“The old Moretti clinic.”
The clinic had closed after Mateo's ambush.
Carlo knew it.
Vincent knew it.
And according to the ledger, Blackwood had used it for off-record transfers.
They arrived twenty minutes later.
The building appeared abandoned.
Lydia found fresh wheelchair tracks in dust near a side entrance.
“He's here.”
Lorenzo drew his weapon.
They followed the tracks.
Down a corridor.
Past empty examination rooms.
To an operating theater.
The door was cracked open.
A voice came from inside.
Mateo's communication tablet.
HELP.
Lorenzo reached for the door.
Lydia saw the thin wire attached to the frame.
“Stop.”
He froze.
She pointed.
A trap.
Then footsteps sounded behind them.
Lorenzo turned.
May you like
Roland Blackwood stood at the far end of the corridor.
And beside him, holding a gun against Mateo's head, was Carlo.
