Chapter 6 - THE BOX AT MIDTOWN FEDERAL
By eight thirty the next morning, Tatum had slept forty-three minutes.
Maya stayed with Celia in a secured apartment owned by the Morrow family.
Tatum hated every word in that sentence.
She hated more that it allowed her to breathe.
Declan met her outside Midtown Federal.
He wore a dark overcoat and no visible weapon.
Tatum assumed the invisible kind existed.
“You cannot bring half the syndicate into a bank.”
He signed:
I brought Ellis.
Ellis stood twenty feet away reading a newspaper badly.
“And?”
Declan looked toward a coffee cart.
Tatum spotted two more men.
She glared.
He signed:
They are customers.
“They are shaped like refrigerators.”
Declan almost smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
Do you want me inside?
The question stopped her.
Yesterday, he would have decided.
Today, he asked.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
No triumph.
They entered together.
Callum Briggs waited near the marble lobby fountain.
Yousef was not with him.
Tatum’s stomach tightened.
“Where is he?”
“Safe.”
“I need more than that.”
Briggs smiled.
“You’re learning from Morrow.”
Declan read his mouth only partially.
Tatum signed the meaning.
His expression remained flat.
Briggs held up the brass key.
“The box is in Thomas Reed’s name with Tatum Reed as beneficiary.”
“How did you know?”
“Victor.”
“Where is Victor?”
Briggs’s smile faded.
“Dead.”
Tatum went still.
“What?”
“Found this morning in a hotel.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
She believed him again.
That was becoming annoying.
Briggs looked at Declan.
“Someone is cleaning old accounts.”
The bank manager approached.
Tatum produced identification.
The box authorization was real.
Her father had added her name when she was fourteen.
The vault required the key and a signature.
Briggs gave her the key.
Declan remained beside her until the manager said only registered parties could enter the private inspection room.
Tatum looked at Declan.
He signed:
Your choice.
“I’ll go.”
His jaw tightened.
But he nodded.
The safe-deposit box was smaller than she expected.
She imagined secrets required weight.
They did not.
Inside were two envelopes.
A flash drive.
And one photograph.
Tatum picked up the photograph first.
Her father.
Malcolm Morrow.
Gianni Delvecio.
Patrick Briggs.
Four men standing at a charity golf event.
Smiling.
On the back, Thomas had written:
THEY WERE FRIENDS BEFORE MONEY MADE THEM ENEMIES.
Tatum opened the first envelope.
A letter.
Tatum,
If you are reading this, then the people involved decided the truth still has value.
That means it is still dangerous.
Do not confuse any of these men with heroes.
Malcolm helped me after the attack, but his businesses profited from the same corrupt waterfront that made Gianni and Patrick rich.
Patrick Briggs did not order my death, but he chose silence afterward.
And I chose silence too long before I reported what I saw.
Tatum stopped.
Even her father refused to clean himself up for history.
She continued.
The important evidence is not in this box.
The drive contains directions.
Do not open it on a networked computer.
And do not trust the first person who tells you they already know what is on it.
Tatum looked toward the vault door.
Briggs would claim knowledge.
Declan might too.
The second envelope was addressed to Malcolm Morrow.
Still sealed.
Tatum stared.
Her father had intended Malcolm to receive something.
He never did.
She put everything back except the sealed Morrow envelope.
Then stopped.
No.
Her father said no heroes.
No automatic trust.
She took all of it.
When she returned to the lobby, Briggs stood first.
“Well?”
Tatum looked at him.
“There was nothing.”
His face changed too quickly.
Disappointment.
He did not know.
Good.
Declan watched her.
She gave him no sign.
Nothing.
His eyes narrowed.
But he followed her lie.
Briggs stepped closer.
“Don’t play games.”
Tatum raised her voice enough for bank security to notice.
“Are you threatening me inside a bank?”
He stepped back.
Smart.
Declan’s mouth almost curved.
Outside, Briggs’s men waited near a black SUV.
Ellis moved closer.
Briggs said, “Yousef goes home when I get what was in the box.”
“I told you.”
“You’re lying.”
Tatum smiled.
“Then I’m learning from professionals.”
His eyes hardened.
Before he could answer, three police vehicles turned onto the block.
Briggs looked toward them.
Then at Declan.
“You called cops?”
Declan shook his head.
Tatum’s phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She opened it.
A live photograph of Maya sitting at a kitchen table with Celia.
Taken from outside the window.
Tatum’s blood froze.
Below it:
THE BANK WAS A DISTRACTION.
She looked at Declan.
His face changed when he saw hers.
She showed him.
He grabbed his phone.
Called Celia by video.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Briggs looked confused.
“That isn’t me.”
“Shut up.”
Tatum called Maya’s tablet.
No answer.
Ellis was already moving.
Declan signed quickly.
Go now.
They ran toward the cars.
Briggs shouted behind them.
“I still have Yousef!”
Tatum turned.
“Then keep him alive if you want anything from me.”
She got into Declan’s sedan.
For once, nobody argued about driving.
During the ride, Declan signed while Ellis drove.
Who knows location?
Celia. You. Ellis. Two security.
“And Martin?”
No.
Tatum stared at Ellis.
He met her eyes in the mirror.
“Don’t.”
She looked away.
Everyone was suspect now.
Even people she liked.
Especially people she liked.
Declan’s phone rang.
Celia.
He answered video.
Her face appeared.
Blood at her temple.
Tatum stopped breathing.
Celia signed one-handed.
We are okay.
“Where is Maya?”
Celia turned the phone.
Maya sat on the floor beside a couch.
Shaking.
Alive.
Tatum began crying.
“Maya.”
Maya looked at the screen.
“Mom!”
“I’m coming.”
Celia turned the camera back.
Man entered balcony.
I stopped him.
Declan’s expression changed.
How?
Celia lifted a cast-iron skillet.
Tatum almost laughed.
Of course.
Who?
Celia pointed camera toward a man unconscious on the floor.
Ellis looked in mirror.
“I know him.”
Declan signed:
Who?
“Derek Shaw.”
Martin’s son.
Tatum closed her eyes.
Another layer.
During the drive, Tatum called Mrs. Alvarez.
She needed one ordinary voice.
The older woman answered immediately.
“Mija?”
“Maya’s safe.”
“Oh, thank God.”
Tatum heard a television in the background.
Normal television.
Normal apartment noise.
It almost made her cry.
“Mrs. Alvarez, did you see anybody around the building before Maya got sick?”
A pause.
“One man.”
Tatum straightened.
“What man?”
“Maintenance shirt. I thought landlord finally sent somebody.”
Of course.
“What did he do?”
“Went downstairs. Came back up. Smell started after.”
“Would you recognize him?”
“Maybe.”
Tatum looked at Ellis in the mirror.
“Police may ask.”
Mrs. Alvarez became quiet.
“Police?”
“Yes.”
“You in trouble?”
Tatum looked at Declan.
He watched her.
“No.”
She chose the answer carefully.
“I’m done pretending trouble is safer when nobody names it.”
Mrs. Alvarez sighed.
“Your mother used to say you were stubborn.”
“She was correct.”
“She also said stubborn kept you alive.”
After the call, Tatum leaned back.
Declan signed:
You are good with truth.
She laughed.
“No.”
He waited.
“I’m learning.”
Same.
The word sat between them.
Tatum looked at his hands.
Hands that men feared.
Hands that spoke.
Hands that had signed not yet in front of an entire syndicate and nearly made her die of embarrassment.
She pointed at him.
“About that.”
His eyebrows lifted.
Not yet.
He had the decency to look slightly embarrassed.
“What exactly was that?”
Truth.
“That was not required.”
Maybe not.
“You cannot announce hypothetical romantic intent during a hostage call.”
His expression turned thoughtful.
Rule?
“Yes.”
He nodded seriously.
I will write down.
Tatum laughed before she could stop herself.
Ellis looked into the mirror.
“I’m begging both of you to either date or stop doing whatever this is.”
Declan turned toward him.
Ellis immediately faced the road.
Tatum’s face heated.
“Professional environment.”
Ellis muttered, “Sure.”
The car turned onto the block.
Humor vanished.
A security vehicle stood crooked near the curb.
The apartment balcony door was open.
Tatum’s heart slammed.
Declan reached toward her hand.
Stopped.
She took his first.
Neither commented.
Then the car stopped and they ran.
At the apartment, police had not been called.
Declan’s people had restrained Derek.
Tatum rushed to Maya.
She held her daughter until both stopped shaking.
Declan stood across the room.
He did not approach.
Maya eventually looked at him.
“Mr. Morrow?”
He crouched.
She signed:
Bad ears?
He nodded.
Bad lungs?
She pointed at herself.
He nodded solemnly.
Still us.
Maya smiled.
Tatum looked away because her eyes burned.
Celia explained.
Derek had entered through a neighboring vacant unit.
He carried a phone jammer, zip ties, and photographs.
No gun.
Declan looked at him.
Derek was awake now.
Angry.
“You have no idea what you’re protecting.”
Declan signed.
Celia voiced.
“Explain.”
Derek laughed.
“My father confessed?”
Tatum said, “Enough.”
“Then you know Thomas Reed ruined everything.”
Tatum went cold.
“My father exposed theft.”
“He broke the agreement.”
“What agreement?”
Derek looked at Declan.
“Ask Malcolm’s letter.”
Tatum’s hand moved toward her bag.
The sealed envelope.
Derek smiled.
“You opened the box.”
Nobody spoke.
He continued.
“The Morrows, Delvecios, and Briggs families built one trust twenty-five years ago. Waterfront land. Shipping interests. Cash reserves.”
Declan’s expression hardened.
Derek looked at Tatum.
“Thomas found the trust.”
“What was wrong with it?”
“Nothing at first.”
“Then?”
“Public money entered.”
Tatum understood.
Corruption.
Again.
“Who controlled it?”
Derek smiled.
“That’s why everyone needs the letter.”
Tatum looked at Declan.
He signed:
Open it.
She hesitated.
Then removed the envelope.
Inside, Thomas had written to Malcolm:
Malcolm,
The trust is not controlled by Gianni or Patrick.
Your signature was forged too.
The person stealing from all three families is the one man every side believes is neutral.
Elias Mercer.
The judge.
Tatum stopped.
Retired Judge Mercer.
The man her father had named on the tape.
Derek began laughing.
“You finally got there.”
Declan looked at him.
Derek’s smile widened.
“Mercer isn’t retired.”
May you like
He looked directly at Tatum.
“He owns Delvecio’s now.”
