Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO CLAIMED TO BE MY FATHER
The rail yard became deadly quiet.
The man who looked like Tomas slowly lowered his hand.
Mateo stepped between them.
“Gabriel, lower the gun.”
“I said he isn’t Tomas.”
“You haven’t seen my brother in twelve years.”
“I saw him six days ago.”
The stranger smiled faintly.
“And yet here I am.”
Salazar kept the weapon aimed at his chest.
“Tell Mateo about the scar.”
“What scar?”
“Exactly.”
Mateo stared.
“What is he talking about?”
Salazar glanced at him.
“Tomas had a knife wound below his left ribs. Valencia docks. 2008.”
Mateo’s face changed.
The stranger remained calm.
“Do you expect me to undress here?”
“Yes.”
Marco almost laughed despite the tension.
The man unbuttoned his shirt.
Below his ribs was a scar.
Salazar didn’t lower the gun.
“Wrong side.”
Everyone saw it.
The scar was on the right.
Mateo drew his weapon.
“Who are you?”
The stranger ran.
Two shots hit gravel beside his feet.
He disappeared behind a rail car.
Marco’s men chased him.
An engine roared.
The white vehicle tore through a fence and vanished.
Elena stared after it.
“He looked exactly like Tomas.”
Salazar’s expression was grim.
“That was the point.”
“Why would Cortez send someone pretending to be my father?” I asked.
“To get close to you.”
“For the key?”
“For whatever Esperanza hid in your memory.”
I hated the idea that my childhood had become a locked safe everyone wanted to open.
We returned to Vargas’s estate before sunrise.
There was no time for sleep.
Salazar needed medical treatment, but he refused a hospital.
Teresa stitched his shoulder while he cursed softly.
I sat nearby.
“Did you really see Tomas?”
“Yes.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
That answer made me look at him.
“Trust is dangerous,” he said. “Verify everything.”
“My grandmother trusted you.”
“And regretted it.”
He looked older then.
Not powerful.
Not frightening.
Just tired.
“Why did you betray her?”
His jaw tightened.
“I had a younger sister.”
“What happened?”
“Cortez took her.”
I understood before he continued.
“He told you to choose.”
“Yes.”
“Grandma or your sister.”
“Yes.”
“What did you choose?”
“My sister.”
“Did he let her go?”
Salazar looked at the floor.
“No.”
I felt something almost like sympathy.
Almost.
“So you destroyed Grandma’s life for nothing.”
“Yes.”
He did not excuse himself.
That made hating him more complicated.
Later that morning, Vargas gathered us around a table.
Marco placed a city map in the center.
“San Jerónimo Clinic,” he said.
The hospital sat on the northern edge of the city.
Private.
Expensive.
Owned by the Cortez Foundation.
Of course.
Salazar had learned that Tomas was held in a restricted underground treatment wing.
“Why keep him alive for twelve years?” Elena asked.
“He knows something.”
“The ledger.”
“Or they believe he does.”
Vargas looked at me.
“We’re not going there.”
“You are.”
“I am. You aren’t.”
“That man is my father.”
“Maybe.”
“I need to know.”
“Then let me bring him back.”
I shook my head.
“No more sitting in rooms while adults decide my life.”
Vargas slammed his palm on the table.
“You are twelve.”
“And I was twelve when I pulled you from the river.”
That stopped him.
Salazar hid a smile.
Vargas noticed.
“You’re enjoying this?”
“Very much.”
The plan began at 8:00 p.m.
No guns blazing.
No convoy.
The clinic was too heavily guarded.
Instead, Elena entered as a wealthy patient using forged identification.
Teresa accompanied her as an assistant.
Vargas and Salazar entered through the service tunnel.
Marco stayed outside with backup.
And me?
I was supposed to remain in the car.
For exactly eleven minutes.
Then I climbed out.
I had spent three months surviving on streets filled with dangerous adults.
Escaping a locked SUV was easy.
I slipped through the laundry entrance behind two workers.
Hospital uniforms hung on carts.
I stole nothing.
I borrowed a jacket and intended to return it.
Grandma would probably still object.
The underground corridor smelled like bleach.
I followed signs until I heard voices.
“…transfer him tonight.”
Cortez.
I recognized his voice from old television speeches.
I pressed myself against the wall.
Another man answered.
“Commissioner Salazar compromised the station operation.”
“So kill him.”
“And Vargas?”
“Eventually.”
“What about the boy?”
A pause.
“Alive.”
My blood chilled.
“Until we know what Esperanza taught him.”
The door opened.
I ducked behind a laundry cart.
Rafael Cortez stepped into the corridor.
He was older than the photograph but still carried himself like a politician greeting donors.
He looked harmless.
That made him terrifying.
He passed within four feet of me.
I held my breath.
Then he stopped.
My heart nearly exploded.
Cortez turned.
He stared at the cart.
One second.
Two.
Then an alarm sounded somewhere upstairs.
He cursed and walked away.
I waited.
Then entered the room he had left.
A man lay restrained on a hospital bed.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
A healing bruise near his temple.
His eyes opened.
I stopped.
He looked almost exactly like the impostor.
But not quite.
This man’s face held something familiar.
Not from photographs.
From me.
He stared at my face.
Tears appeared instantly.
“Aurelio.”
My knees weakened.
“How do you know me?”
“Because Esperanza showed me pictures.”
“You’re Tomas.”
His eyes closed.
“Yes.”
I looked under his shirt.
Left side.
The scar was there.
I began unfastening the restraints.
“Mateo’s here.”
Tomas froze.
“My brother?”
“He came for you.”
“Then we have to leave now.”
“I know.”
“No.”
He grabbed my wrist.
“You don’t understand. Cortez wanted Mateo to come.”
My stomach dropped.
“This is a trap?”
“For all of you.”
The lights went out.
Red emergency lamps activated.
A voice came through the speakers.
Rafael Cortez.
“Mateo Vargas.”
My blood turned cold.
“I know you are inside my building.”
Tomas pulled out the IV.
“Help me stand.”
Cortez continued.
“You have something that belongs to me.”
Tomas whispered, “Service door.”
“And I have something that belongs to you.”
A screen on the wall flickered on.
Live video.
Elena.
Tied to a chair.
Teresa beside her.
Also restrained.
I stared.
Tomas whispered, “No.”
Cortez appeared behind them.
He placed a hand on Elena’s shoulder.
“Bring me Aurelio Mendoza and the key.”
Tomas looked at me.
“And perhaps I let his mother live.”
I stepped backward.
“No.”
Tomas grabbed my face.
“Listen to me.”
“That’s my mom.”
“Cortez needs you alive. That gives us leverage.”
“What do we do?”
“We find Mateo.”
Gunfire echoed from the hallway.
Too late.
The door burst open.
A man entered.
I grabbed a metal tray.
Then stopped.
Vargas.
“Aurelio?”
He stared at me.
“What are you doing here?”
“Saving your brother.”
Tomas looked at Mateo.
Neither man moved.
Twelve years vanished in one look.
Mateo whispered, “Tomas.”
His brother smiled weakly.
“You got old.”
Mateo crossed the room and hugged him.
It lasted less than two seconds.
Then Tomas shoved him away.
“Cortez has Elena.”
“I know.”
“He wants Aurelio.”
“I know.”
“And this place is rigged.”
Vargas stared.
“With what?”
“Explosives.”
A low alarm began pulsing.
Tomas looked toward the ceiling.
“He’s evacuating the upper floors.”
“Why?”
“So there are fewer witnesses.”
The speakers crackled again.
“Aurelio.”
Cortez was speaking directly to me now.
“I know you can hear me.”
Vargas stepped in front of the screen.
“Don’t answer.”
Cortez smiled.
“Your grandmother spent twelve years filling your head with lies.”
I clenched my fists.
“She told you I was a monster.”
“You are.”
“Perhaps.”
His smile widened.
“But did she ever tell you what Mateo Vargas did to your grandfather?”
Nobody moved.
I looked at Mateo.
“What is he talking about?”
Cortez laughed.
“Ah. Another family secret.”
Mateo looked furious.
“Aurelio, not now.”
“That means it’s true.”
Tomas grabbed my shoulder.
“There’s more important—”
“No!”
I stepped away.
“Everybody knows my family except me.”
The speaker continued.
“Ask Mateo why Esperanza hated him for six years.”
I stared at Vargas.
“Why?”
His jaw tightened.
“Because I killed your grandfather.”
Silence.
My ears rang.
Vargas did not look away.
“It was before I knew who he was.”
“What happened?”
“Aurelio—”
“What happened?”
“He worked at the docks. There was a strike. Men fought.”
“And you killed him?”
“Yes.”
My chest hurt.
The man I had saved from drowning.
The man protecting me.
The man my grandmother trusted.
Had killed her husband.
Cortez’s voice dripped satisfaction.
“Family loyalty is such a fragile thing.”
Tomas suddenly pointed toward the door.
“We discuss ghosts later.”
Smoke began seeping beneath it.
The corridor was burning.
Vargas grabbed my arm.
We ran.
Outside the room, flames climbed the walls.
Sprinklers failed.
Of course they did.
Cortez was burning his own clinic to erase evidence.
We reached a stairwell.
Locked.
Vargas fired twice at the mechanism.
Nothing.
Tomas coughed.
“There’s another route.”
He led us through a laboratory.
On the far wall, a reinforced glass door separated us from a secure storage room.
Inside sat shelves of files.
Tomas stopped.
“What?”
He stared through the glass.
“Those boxes.”
Labels showed dates going back twenty years.
He whispered, “That’s where he keeps the disappeared.”
“What?”
“Records.”
Vargas smashed the glass with a metal chair.
We grabbed as many boxes as we could.
Then I noticed a file.
MENDOZA, ESPERANZA.
I reached for it.
“Aurelio!”
I opened the folder.
Photographs.
Surveillance.
Medical records.
Then one document made my heart stop.
PATIENT STATUS: ACTIVE.
Date updated:
Two days ago.
Grandma was alive.
There was an address beneath it.
LOCATION: SANTA LUCIA FACILITY.
I shoved the file under my shirt.
The ceiling groaned.
“Move!” Mateo shouted.
We escaped through a loading tunnel moments before an explosion tore through the clinic.
Outside, Marco’s vehicles arrived.
But Elena and Teresa were gone.
Cortez had taken them.
Back at the estate, I showed Vargas the file.
He read the address.
Marco paled.
“What?”
Vargas looked at him.
“You know Santa Lucia?”
Marco nodded.
“It’s not a hospital.”
“What is it?”
“An old monastery in the mountains.”
Tomas stared at the page.
“I was held there once.”
I looked at him.
“Then you know how to get in.”
“Yes.”
Hope rose.
Then vanished when he added:
“And if Cortez knows we have this file, he’ll move Esperanza before sunrise.”
Vargas checked the clock.
2:43 a.m.
Three hours until dawn.
May you like
I picked up Grandma’s brass key.
“Then we go now.”
