Chapter 6 - THE DUCTWORK ARCHIVE
The second-floor guest corridor smelled of pulverized drywall and old insulation.
Two security technicians worked with power saws under portable halogens.
The wall behind Guest Room 7 had been peeled open like a tin can.
Behind the lath and plaster lay an old pneumatic message chute from the 1920s.
It ran vertically through the mansion’s stone chimney stack.
Gabriel reached his long arm deep into the iron chute.
His fingers found a heavy steel lockbox bolted to the interior masonry.
He produced the narrow key Olivia had found in the desk drawer hours earlier.
The key turned with a dry, mechanical clink.
The lockbox opened.
Inside lay two items.
A thick, leather-bound notebook with blackened, smoke-stained edges.
And a brass USB thumb drive stamped with the initials J.D.
Gabriel pulled both out into the harsh glare of the work light.
Olivia stepped closer, her eyes wide.
"Julian survived the initial blast long enough to bring this here," she realized aloud.
"He dragged himself through the service entrance four years ago," Gabriel whispered.
His voice carried the weight of a brother’s unbearable guilt.
"He hid this before he collapsed on the east stairs."
"I thought he was trying to reach me."
Gabriel touched the scarred leather cover.
"He was trying to save this."
Olivia opened the notebook with shaking fingers.
Pages of dense, handwritten numbers.
Offshore accounts in Grand Cayman, Zurich, and Cyprus.
Names of corrupt city officials, police captains, and harbor masters.
And at the bottom of page forty-four, a handwritten note in blue ink:
If Elena returns, do not trust her smile. She lit the fuse.
Olivia gasped.
"She blew up her own husband?"
"Julian figured out that Elena was leaking Duca logistics to her family," Gabriel said, his jaw tightening into iron.
"The Morettis were bleeding cash."
"They needed our shipping channels to survive."
"So she tried to kill both Julian and Daniel to erase the paper trail."
Matteo approached from the corridor, holding an armored briefcase.
"Boss, the sniper teams are staged near Pier 18."
"Call them off," Gabriel said flatly.
Matteo stopped in his tracks.
"Sir?"
"Elena said no backup."
"It's an ambush, Gabriel!" Matteo argued, his controlled demeanor slipping.
"You walk into Pier 18 alone, and they'll drop you and the girl into the river!"
Gabriel closed the ledger with a loud thud.
"They won't drop anyone."
Gabriel looked at Olivia.
"You are going to drive the delivery van."
Olivia’s heart leaped.
"Me?"
"They expect a terrified housekeeper," Gabriel said, his eyes drilling into hers.
"They expect a broken mother who will do whatever they say."
"Are you broken, Olivia?"
Olivia looked down at her hands.
They had stopped shaking.
The fear in her veins had cooled into pure, diamond-hard resolve.
She thought of Lily’s laughter.
She thought of her seven-year-old’s small hand in hers.
"Tell me what to do," Olivia said.
Gabriel reached down and unclipped a compact 9mm pistol from his shoulder holster.
He turned the grip toward her.
"Do you know how to use this?"
"Daniel taught me at the range," she answered, taking the heavy steel.
The weapon felt cold, foreign, but oddly steady in her palm.
"Keep it in your coat pocket," Gabriel instructed.
"When we enter the warehouse, you look at Lily."
"Only at Lily."
"Do not look at Moretti."
"Do not look at Elena."
"The second you have your arms around your daughter, hit the floor."
"What are you going to do?" Olivia asked, watching his dark, unreadable eyes.
Gabriel checked the magazine of his own sidearm.
May you like
"I’m going to end the Moretti bloodline."
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