Chapter 5 - The Confession of Dr. Vance
The encrypted satellite phone on the archive desk chimed with a sharp, electronic pulse.
Marcus snatched it up immediately, listening to the scrambled audio feed for several seconds before looking up at Matteo with a grim expression.
“We found him, Boss,” Marcus reported. “Our operatives in Zurich tracked down Alistair Vance’s private residence. He’s packing his bags to flee to South America. He knows we’re onto him.”
Matteo didn't hesitate. “Put him on speaker.”
A series of static crackles filled the room before a shaky, panicked voice echoed through the small speakerphone.
“Please! I’ve retired! I have nothing to do with Chicago anymore! Leave me alone!”
“Save the dramatics, Alistair,” Matteo said, his voice dropping into that terrifying, calm register that signaled absolute lethal intent. “You have thirty seconds to explain why your signature is on a fraudulent neonatal swap order linking Chicago Memorial Hospital to an Apex Transport shell corporation.”
There was a long, agonizing pause on the other end of the line. Heavy, ragged breathing echoed through the speaker.
“I... I had no choice,” Vance sobbed, his voice breaking completely. “They threatened my family, Matteo! The New York Syndicate—Moretti’s men. They intercepted your wife’s medical file before delivery. They knew the baby had a rare congenital heart murmur that required immediate specialized surgery—surgery that only their private clinic in Zurich could provide.”
Liana gripped the edge of the table, her breath hitching. “My baby... my baby had a heart murmur?”
“Yes!” Vance cried out. “They told me... they told me if I didn't cooperate and switch the healthy infant with the deceased child from St. Jude’s, they would kill your entire family, Miss Graves! They needed a healthy Varric heir to infiltrate your household later, and they needed a disposable pawn to cover the trail!”
“Where is he?” Matteo demanded, leaning over the phone, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the table. “Where is Liana’s child?”
“He’s... he’s alive,” Vance stammered. “He was placed with a foster family in the western suburbs under an encrypted state ID managed by Moretti’s front charity. But the heart surgery... it was performed successfully six months ago. He’s safe, but—”
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The line suddenly went dead with a sharp, piercing shriek of static.
Marcus stared at his tablet. “Signal lost. Zurich hit squad must have intercepted him before he could finish.”
