Chapter 3 - THE TUNNEL
We moved Daniel in less than two minutes.
Vincent carried him.
Elena led the way.
I followed with my Glock drawn.
We took the service elevator to the basement.
The hospital smelled different down there.
Less sterile.
More mechanical.
Pipes rattled overhead.
Emergency generators hummed somewhere behind concrete walls.
Elena stopped beside an old maintenance door.
“There.”
Vincent checked it.
“Locked.”
Elena reached beneath a loose electrical panel and pulled out a small brass key.
I stared.
“You've been here before.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Every night for three years.”
“Why?”
She inserted the key.
“Because my father told me one day someone would need this tunnel.”
The door opened.
Cold air rushed past us.
Beyond it was darkness.
Vincent turned on his flashlight.
Stone walls appeared beneath layers of dust.
“This isn't on the hospital plans.”
“I know.”
We entered.
The tunnel stretched beneath Manhattan.
Daniel stirred in Vincent's arms.
“Dad?”
“I'm here.”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe.”
He looked at Elena.
“She's coming.”
“Yes,” I said.
Elena glanced at me.
“I wasn't planning to leave.”
We walked another fifty yards.
Then Elena stopped.
“Wait.”
“What?”
She pointed at the wall.
There were three scratches carved into the stone.
My father's initials.
G.M.
My father's name had been Giovanni Moretti.
I touched the letters.
“How?”
Elena whispered:
“He built this place.”
Vincent looked at me.
“Your father knew about the tunnel.”
“He knew.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because he never trusted me with everything.”
Elena looked at me.
“He trusted you with the empire.”
I stared at her.
“He didn't trust you with the truth.”
We reached a steel door.
Elena entered another code.
The door opened.
Inside was a small underground room.
A table.
A chair.
Old filing cabinets.
A radio.
And a metal safe.
Dust covered everything.
Except the safe.
Someone had opened it recently.
I walked toward it.
“Who was here?”
Elena shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Vincent inspected the floor.
“Fresh footprints.”
I followed them.
They stopped at the wall.
There was nowhere else to go.
Then Daniel spoke.
“Dad.”
I turned.
He was pointing toward the safe.
“That's what the bad man wanted.”
I crouched beside him.
“What was inside?”
Daniel's eyes filled with tears.
“I don't know.”
He touched his chest.
“He said you would know.”
I looked at Elena.
She looked terrified.
“Open it,” I ordered.
Vincent examined the lock.
“It needs a combination.”
I remembered something.
My father's birthday.
I entered the numbers.
Nothing.
I tried the date he died.
Nothing.
Then Elena stepped forward.
“Try Daniel's birthday.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because your father may have planned this for his grandson.”
I entered the date.
Click.
The safe opened.
Inside was a single red folder.
And a photograph.
I picked it up.
My father stood beside Rafael Cruz.
Between them was a young woman.
Maybe eighteen.
Elena.
I turned toward her.
She was crying.
“My father kept that?”
“Yes.”
“What does the folder say?”
I opened it.
The first page contained one sentence.
If Gabriel ever finds this, tell him the truth about Daniel.
My hands went numb.
Daniel looked up.
“What truth?”
I couldn't speak.
Because beneath that sentence was a hospital birth certificate.
Daniel Moretti.
Mother:
Unknown.
Father:
Gabriel Moretti.
And beneath it was another document.
A DNA report.
I read the final line.
Then everything inside me stopped.
Daniel wasn't simply the son I thought I knew.
May you like
Someone had spent six years making sure I never learned the truth about his birth.
And the woman standing beside me knew exactly why.
