Chapter 6 - VINCENT'S UNCLE
Gabriel Moretti looked nothing like Vincent.
That surprised me.
I did not meet him in person.
Good.
Dana let Celia and me watch part of the recorded interview later because Gabriel’s answers directly concerned Mom and the devices tied to us.
He was sixty-three.
White hair.
Gold glasses.
Soft voice.
He looked like a professor.
Maybe dangerous men preferred that after a certain age.
His attorney sat beside him.
Vincent sat across the room with his own attorney.
Dana and another federal investigator led.
No shouting.
No guns.
Just water bottles and microphones.
I liked boring investigations.
Dana started.
“Mr. Moretti, did you oversee the Moretti family office from 2009 to 2020?”
“Yes.”
“Did that office contract Atlantic Security?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“Protective intelligence.”
“Surveillance?”
“Sometimes.”
“On external threats?”
“Yes.”
“On Moretti family members?”
Gabriel stopped.
Vincent did not move.
Then:
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
Dana continued.
“Who authorized that?”
“My brother Giovanni.”
Vincent’s father.
“Did Vincent know?”
“No.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
Gabriel looked at him.
“Your father believed heirs created risk.”
Vincent said nothing.
Good.
Dana asked:
“Did you agree?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did you monitor Vincent’s wife Sofia?”
“Yes.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
No explosion.
Good.
“Why?”
“Her brother had gambling debt.”
Vincent finally spoke.
“You could have told me.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“Your father forbade it.”
Vincent laughed bitterly.
“So you obeyed.”
Gabriel’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
I thought of Frank.
Same disease.
Different family.
Dana continued.
“Did you manage Atlantic installer credentials?”
“My office received reports. Adrian Cole managed technical systems.”
“Did you have authority to request clones?”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
Gabriel looked toward his lawyer.
Then:
“Yes.”
There.
“For what purpose?”
“To protect source identity when installing on targets who might retaliate against individual technicians.”
“That sounds illegal.”
Gabriel looked almost amused.
“Sometimes it was.”
Direct.
Good.
Dana showed C-17.
“Did you ever clone Carlo Bianchi’s code?”
Gabriel stared.
“Yes.”
Vincent’s face went cold.
“When?” Dana asked.
“Several times between 2016 and 2019.”
“Why Carlo?”
“He was trusted. His code would not trigger internal suspicion.”
Carlo had been framed before.
Maybe current too.
“Did Carlo know?”
“No.”
Vincent looked toward the table.
Again.
Trusted people used as camouflage.
Dana asked:
“Did you place the device in Elena Ward’s kitchen?”
“No.”
“Matteo Moretti’s blanket?”
“No.”
“Car seat?”
“No.”
“Can you prove?”
“No.”
Correct.
“Did you access Holloway Freight recently?”
Gabriel’s expression changed.
“No.”
“Access log says G. Moretti.”
“I did not.”
“Could someone use an old credential?”
“Yes.”
“Who had access?”
“Adrian.”
“Anyone else?”
“My deputy. two administrators. later Carlo for maintenance access.”
Carlo again.
Messy.
Dana asked:
“Did you know Adrian Cole was alive?”
Gabriel looked down.
“Yes.”
Vincent stood halfway.
His attorney touched his arm.
He sat.
Good.
Dana’s voice sharpened.
“When did you learn?”
“Two months after the reported crash.”
“Why not report?”
“Because Adrian contacted me.”
“What did he want?”
“Money.”
“Blackmail?”
“Yes.”
“What did he have?”
Gabriel looked at Vincent.
“Family surveillance archive.”
Silence.
“How much did you pay?”
“Five million.”
Vincent stared.
“You paid him.”
“Yes.”
“With whose money?”
“Family office reserve.”
“My money.”
“Our father’s structure.”
Vincent’s face changed.
“Do not say our father when you mean you.”
Gabriel stopped.
Good.
“I authorized payment.”
Better.
Dana asked:
“What did he promise?”
“To destroy copies.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
Obviously.
“Why not tell law enforcement?”
Gabriel looked tired.
“Because the archive documented crimes.”
There.
Not just embarrassment.
Exposure.
“Your crimes?”
“Some.”
“Giovanni’s?”
“Yes.”
“Vincent’s?”
Gabriel hesitated.
Vincent laughed without humor.
“Say it.”
“Some files involved operations Vincent led in his twenties.”
Vincent looked away.
No clean hero.
Good.
Dana continued.
“Did Adrian contact you recently?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
The time Mom met him in Montreal.
“What did he want?”
“More money.”
“For?”
“He said someone had reopened his network and he wanted out before he was blamed.”
“Who?”
“He called them Shepherd.”
Same.
“Did he identify Shepherd?”
“No.”
“Did you believe him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Adrian always sold fear.”
There.
The business model.
Create insecurity.
Sell certainty.
Dana asked:
“June fourteenth three years ago.”
Gabriel’s face changed.
“Jonah Price.”
“Yes.”
“Your office paid Atlantic that day.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“Locating him.”
My stomach dropped.
He did not even pretend.
“Why?”
“Jonah stole credential maps.”
“Federal witness.”
“I did not know he was in protected relocation.”
Dana’s eyes hardened.
“Do you expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
Interesting answer.
“What did you know?”
“That he disappeared after subpoena activity.”
“Did you order him taken?”
“No.”
“Did you want his location?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To recover data before federal agents did.”
There.
Crime.
Maybe not kidnapping.
Still.
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know.”
Mom’s test.
Could be true.
Dana continued.
“Did Adrian locate him?”
“He claimed he did.”
“Proof?”
“None.”
“Payment?”
Gabriel’s attorney passed records.
Three hundred thousand.
To Atlantic shell.
Then no further communication.
Jonah vanished.
Gabriel had motive to find him.
Adrian had access.
Unknown who took him.
Dana asked:
“Why did Elena Ward suspect you?”
Gabriel almost smiled.
“Because she was intelligent.”
I hated him.
Then:
“She found family-office payment trails. She thought I still controlled Atlantic.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did you help it survive?”
Gabriel looked at his hands.
“Yes.”
That answer mattered.
“How?”
“I paid blackmail instead of exposing it.”
Silence.
“I protected old crimes.”
“Yes.”
“I kept old credential systems hidden.”
“Yes.”
“So Adrian could reuse them.”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
Vincent stared at his uncle.
“Matteo was touched by this because you wanted our father’s secrets buried.”
Gabriel’s face cracked.
“Possibly.”
Vincent stood.
This time no one stopped him.
He walked to the window.
Not toward Gabriel.
Good.
Then Dana asked:
“Where is Adrian?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“Where would he go?”
“Holloway if he wanted archives.”
“Already searched.”
“Then Saint Brigid.”
Everyone stopped.
“What is that?” Dana asked.
“Old medical annex in Wisconsin. Atlantic used it for off-grid executive recovery.”
My heart kicked.
Milwaukee direction.
Mom’s fake train ticket.
Maybe not fake completely.
“Address?”
Gabriel provided it.
Dana’s team moved immediately.
Not me.
Good.
Celia turned off the recording before the operational part.
I sat back.
“So Gabriel did bad things.”
“Yes,” Celia said.
“But maybe not this.”
“Yes.”
I hated nuance.
Maya sat at the end of the table eating cereal with her hands.
She looked up.
“Bad man?”
I stared.
What could a three-year-old understand?
Celia answered:
“Man did bad things.”
Maya nodded.
Then returned to cereal.
Better.
At 8:10 p.m., Vincent called.
Celia let me answer.
“Your uncle.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t hit him.”
Silence.
Then Vincent almost laughed.
“No.”
“Good.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“No.”
“Liar.”
Maybe.
Then he said:
“Matteo is home.”
“Still scared?”
“Sleeping badly.”
“Rabbit?”
“Maya took it.”
I looked at Maya.
She held it.
“Right.”
Vincent continued:
“I bought him another.”
“Did he like it?”
“No.”
I laughed.
“Wrong rabbit.”
“Apparently.”
Then his voice changed.
“Leah.”
“What?”
“I owe Carlo an apology if his code was cloned.”
“Not yet.”
He stopped.
I continued:
“Mom said don’t clear him because she trusted him once.”
Silence.
“You really are terrifying.”
“Check first.”
“Yes.”
Good.
Then Dana entered the hotel suite.
Her face told me something happened.
I stood.
“What?”
“Wisconsin team reached Saint Brigid.”
My heart pounded.
“Mom?”
Dana looked at Celia.
Then me.
“They found someone.”
“Who?”
“Jonah Price.”
The missing federal witness.
Alive.
My mouth fell open.
Three years missing.
Alive.
“Mom?”
“No.”
My heart dropped.
Then Dana continued:
“Jonah says Elena was there two days ago.”
I stopped breathing.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where did she go?”
“He doesn’t know.”
Of course.
“What did she do there?”
Dana sat.
“She came for him.”
“What?”
“Your mother found Jonah.”
My brain could not fit it.
The missing witness from June 14.
Mom had found him.
“Why didn’t she bring him to you?”
“Jonah says he refused.”
“Why?”
“Because he believes someone inside federal law enforcement leaked his original relocation.”
The room went cold.
Dana went completely still.
That changed everything.
Jonah had been hiding from Atlantic.
And maybe from the government.
Mom did not know who to trust.
Neither did we.
“Who leaked him?” I asked.
Dana answered honestly.
“I don’t know.”
Mom’s rule again.
Trust the person who admits it.
But now even Dana’s badge could not make the room simple.
Then Dana said:
“Jonah gave Elena one name before she left.”
“Who?”
“He did not call it Shepherd.”
He called it by a real name.
Dana looked at Vincent’s number still glowing on the phone.
Then at me.
“Evelyn Sloane.”
I frowned.
“Who is that?”
Vincent answered through the speaker.
His voice had gone cold.
“My son’s godmother.”
That night, after Dana left, I wrote three names on hotel stationery.
Gabriel.
Adrian.
Evelyn.
Then I crossed all three out.
Not because they did not matter.
Because I noticed what I was doing.
Turning people into answers before the evidence finished.
Underneath, I wrote:
WHAT DO WE KNOW?
Gabriel built part of the old system.
Adrian was alive.
Evelyn’s name came from Jonah.
Mom was alive two days ago.
Everything else belonged to adults with warrants, lawyers, and jobs.
May you like
I folded the paper and put it in my backpack.
For once, a list made the mystery smaller instead of making me responsible for solving it.
