Chapter 10 - Ten Minutes
“Evacuate!”
Adrian’s voice thundered through the lower deck.
Daniel immediately ordered both teams toward the exterior boats.
Marco grabbed Samuel.
Claire helped.
The freighter’s engines continued carrying them toward the middle of the river.
Countdown:
09:31.
Adrian moved toward the stairwell.
Claire grabbed him.
“Where are you going?”
“Engine room.”
“No.”
“If the explosives are connected to the fuel system, we may stop the trigger.”
“You said evacuate.”
“I said you evacuate.”
Her face hardened.
“That is becoming a problem.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
Samuel looked between them.
Even exhausted, he seemed amused for half a second.
“You two related?”
Adrian glared.
“Unfortunately.”
Samuel looked at Claire.
“He definitely sounds like Anthony.”
Claire almost laughed.
Adrian pointed toward Marco.
“Get them off the ship.”
Samuel suddenly grabbed Adrian’s wrist.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“The detonator.”
“What about it?”
“Victor never trusts single triggers.”
Adrian stared.
“He’ll have remote control.”
“And a physical backup.”
“Where?”
Samuel looked toward the bridge.
“Captain’s console.”
Countdown:
08:47.
Adrian changed direction.
“Daniel, engine room. Marco, bridge.”
Claire said, “I’m going with Samuel.”
Adrian looked at her.
“To the boat.”
“Yes.”
He knew she was lying.
He did not have time to argue.
They split.
Daniel descended.
Adrian and Marco climbed toward the bridge.
Two armed men appeared on the upper deck.
Marco fired first.
They retreated behind equipment.
Adrian advanced through cover.
The countdown alarm sounded every thirty seconds.
08:01.
Daniel’s voice came through radio.
“Found charges. Four minimum.”
“Can you disarm?”
“Not in eight minutes.”
“Fuel?”
“Already venting pressure.”
“Remote receiver?”
“Searching.”
Adrian reached the bridge.
The door was locked.
Marco shot the hinges.
They entered.
Empty.
On the captain’s console sat an old white chess knight.
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
Beside it:
A red switch.
Digital display.
07:34.
Marco examined it.
“Could be the backup.”
“Could be a trap.”
“Probably both.”
Adrian looked beneath the console.
Wires.
Receiver.
Secondary transmitter.
His phone rang.
Victor.
Adrian answered.
“Enjoying the cruise?”
“You’re predictable.”
“So are you.”
Adrian looked at the wiring.
“You inherited your father’s flair for unnecessary theater.”
Victor chuckled.
“My father lacked imagination.”
“He murdered children.”
“He removed leverage.”
Adrian’s face emptied.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making this easy.”
Victor paused.
Adrian continued.
“I wondered whether any part of you believed Sofia was an accident.”
Victor’s voice became colder.
“Don’t moralize. Your family built its fortune using men who broke laws for breakfast.”
“Yes.”
Adrian glanced at the countdown.
06:59.
“The difference is I know what my family is.”
Victor laughed.
“Do you?”
“Enough.”
“You haven’t opened the ledger.”
“No.”
“You might discover the Morettis are listed too.”
Adrian had considered that.
He did not care.
“Then we answer for what’s ours.”
Victor became silent.
That sentence bothered him.
Men like Victor survived because everyone else feared exposure more than they feared him.
Adrian did not.
Victor finally said, “Get off the ship.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
Victor’s tone changed.
“You heard me.”
“You suddenly care?”
“I care about the keys.”
Adrian looked at the white knight.
Victor didn’t know where the keys were.
Good.
“Disarm the bomb.”
“No.”
“Then the keys go into the river with me.”
Victor swore.
First time.
Adrian smiled without humor.
“Now we’re negotiating.”
Marco looked at him.
Countdown:
06:21.
Victor said, “There’s a kill circuit beneath the bridge console.”
Adrian crouched.
“Which wire?”
“Blue.”
Marco shook his head.
Three blue wires.
Adrian said, “There are three.”
“Middle.”
Marco examined it.
“No.”
Adrian agreed.
Victor was lying.
“Try again.”
“Middle blue.”
Adrian cut the black wire.
The countdown stopped.
05:58.
Marco stared.
“How did you know?”
“I didn’t.”
The display restarted.
05:57.
Marco muttered, “Excellent.”
Victor laughed through the phone.
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“Daniel.”
“Here.”
“Receiver location?”
“Found it. Engine room wall.”
“Can you isolate?”
“Maybe.”
“Do it.”
Claire’s voice suddenly came over radio.
“Adrian.”
He closed his eyes.
She had not evacuated.
“Why are you still on the ship?”
“Because Samuel remembered something.”
“Claire—”
“Listen.”
Samuel’s weak voice came through.
“The bombs are not intended to sink the ship.”
Adrian frowned.
“What?”
“They destroy the medical bay and cargo hold.”
“Why?”
“Evidence.”
Adrian understood.
Victor cared more about destroying records than killing them.
Samuel continued.
“There’s a black case in cold storage compartment six.”
“What’s inside?”
“Patient files.”
“Sofia?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Adrian stopped breathing.
Samuel continued.
“And hundreds more.”
Claire said, “Victor wants those records gone.”
Countdown:
04:46.
Adrian looked at Marco.
“Cold storage.”
They ran.
“Boss, we have less than five minutes.”
“I can read.”
They descended two decks.
Smoke was beginning to rise from the engine room, but no fire yet.
Compartment six sat behind a steel door.
Locked.
Adrian shot the mechanism.
Inside were dozens of medical cases.
Marco found the black one.
Heavy.
Adrian opened it.
Files.
Photographs.
Lab reports.
Names.
Sofia Moretti.
Age 11.
His hand froze.
He saw her childhood photograph clipped to the file.
He closed the case.
“Take it.”
Marco grabbed two additional boxes.
Countdown:
03:39.
Daniel radioed.
“Remote receiver disabled!”
The countdown continued.
“Physical timer independent.”
“Can’t stop it?”
“Not without knowing which charge contains the primary clock.”
Adrian said, “Evacuate.”
This time everyone obeyed.
They reached the exterior deck.
Two security boats waited.
Samuel was already aboard one.
Claire stood at the railing.
Adrian grabbed her.
“Jump.”
She looked down.
“I hate water.”
“Develop a new preference.”
They jumped.
Cold river water swallowed them.
Security pulled them aboard.
Marco followed with the evidence case.
Daniel jumped from the engine deck seconds later.
Countdown visible through a window:
00:41.
The boats accelerated.
Adrian held Claire against the floor as they sped away.
Samuel shouted, “Down!”
The freighter exploded.
The first blast tore through the lower deck.
The second ripped the medical compartment open.
Glass, metal, and burning debris filled the air.
A wave struck the boat.
Claire screamed.
Adrian shielded her.
Then silence.
The ship burned behind them.
But the evidence case remained between Marco’s feet.
Victor had failed.
Again.
At 12:26 p.m., Samuel and Elena were being treated in adjoining rooms.
Lily sat between them.
Elena had stabilized.
Samuel had severe malnutrition, nerve damage, untreated fractures, and signs of years of physical abuse.
But he was alive.
Claire stood outside the rooms watching through glass.
Her mother in one bed.
Her father in the other.
Her daughter drawing a picture at a small table between them.
Three generations.
Reassembled in one impossible morning.
Adrian stood beside her.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She looked at him.
“That’s a strange response.”
“People who say yes after days like this are usually lying.”
Claire looked through the glass.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For believing Lily.”
Adrian followed her gaze.
The child held up a drawing for Samuel.
He smiled weakly.
“Children rarely walk barefoot through mansions at midnight for entertainment.”
Claire smiled.
Then became serious.
“What’s in Sofia’s file?”
Adrian looked at the black case.
“I haven’t read it.”
“Why?”
He was silent.
Claire understood.
Knowing was sometimes harder than searching.
“You should.”
“Yes.”
“Not alone.”
Adrian looked at her.
She touched his arm.
“Family shouldn’t read things like that alone.”
The word family landed strangely.
Not romantically.
Not sentimentally.
Factually.
They were family.
However distant.
And after what the Kanes had taken from all of them, perhaps that mattered.
Adrian opened Sofia’s file.
The first pages confirmed what Anthony had said.
Sofia had been healthy.
The initial leukemia diagnosis was fabricated.
She had been given experimental compounds under falsified treatment protocols.
Adrian read without moving.
Claire stood beside him.
Then Michael found something.
“Adrian.”
He pointed to the last page.
A coded notation appeared beneath Sofia’s final treatment record.
S-13 TRANSFERRED TO V.K. PROGRAM ARCHIVE.
Adrian frowned.
“Transferred?”
Michael turned the page.
Attached was a photograph dated three months after Sofia’s recorded death.
Adrian stopped breathing.
The image showed a thin teenage girl being moved between two medical buildings.
Her face was partially turned away.
But Adrian knew her.
The shape of her jaw.
The birthmark near her ear.
The bracelet he gave her for her thirteenth birthday.
Claire whispered, “Adrian.”
May you like
He could not speak.
Sofia Moretti had been photographed alive ninety-one days after her funeral.
