Chapter 4 - The Man Sebastian Trusted
Sebastian wanted to move my mother to one of his secured properties.
My mother wanted Sebastian removed from the state of New York.
Neither got exactly what they wanted.
By noon, Elaine Lane was sitting in a guarded suite at the Plaza with two security officers outside the door, complaining that the coffee was terrible and informing Sebastian that money apparently could not purchase decent pillows.
“You understand people would commit crimes for this room?” I asked.
“I raised you on a nurse’s salary. I’m qualified to criticize pillows anywhere.”
Sebastian looked at me.
I laughed for the first time all morning.
For one second, everything felt almost normal.
Then I remembered my dead father had secretly kept records for Sebastian’s dead father, someone had cloned Mara’s security credential, and my blue umbrella had become evidence in a break-in.
Normal disappeared quickly.
We went to the New York Public Library shortly after one.
Victor hated the plan.
Mara hated it more.
Sebastian ignored both of them.
“Locker 317 may not even exist anymore,” I said as our SUV approached Fifth Avenue.
“Then we verify it.”
“You always talk like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like every sentence is a command.”
“Yes.”
“That must make ordering pizza exhausting.”
He looked at me.
“You’re making jokes.”
“I do that when I’m scared.”
“I noticed.”
The answer carried enough meaning to make me look away.
Last night hung between us.
Not the details.
The meaning.
I had expected embarrassment afterward.
I had not expected tenderness.
I certainly had not expected someone to attempt to dismantle Sebastian’s organization before breakfast.
“About this morning,” he said.
“Please don’t apologize again.”
“I haven’t apologized.”
“You’ve apologized with your face about sixty times.”
“My face doesn’t apologize.”
“Your face is practically writing me a letter.”
That almost earned a smile.
Then he became serious.
“I should have asked more questions.”
“I should have answered questions you didn’t know you needed to ask.”
“Valerie.”
“I made a choice, Sebastian.”
“I know.”
“Then respect it.”
He was quiet.
“I do.”
That mattered more than I wanted it to.
The library was crowded enough that Victor looked ready to evacuate Manhattan.
We entered through a side entrance arranged by Mara.
The old locker area my father had used was no longer public.
A library administrator led us downstairs.
“Most of these were decommissioned years ago,” she explained.
Locker 317 remained.
My hands trembled.
Sebastian noticed.
“Want me to open it?”
“No.”
The brass key slid into the lock.
It turned.
Inside was an old hardcover copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.
Nothing else.
I stared.
“That’s it?”
Sebastian removed the book carefully.
A rectangle had been cut into the pages.
Inside was a folded piece of paper.
My father’s handwriting.
My knees nearly gave out.
I hadn’t seen it in sixteen years.
Val,
If you ever find this, then something went wrong that I hoped you would never need to understand.
Trust your mother.
Trust numbers before people.
And remember our Sunday walks.
Dad.
I pressed my fingers to my mouth.
Sebastian said nothing.
He simply stood beside me.
I unfolded the second paper.
There were numbers.
11-14-03.
41-08.
QNS.
Mara, who had joined us, leaned over my shoulder.
“Bank coordinates?”
“No.”
I stared.
Sunday walks.
My father and I used to walk through Astoria every Sunday morning.
We bought bagels.
Fed pigeons.
Visited a tiny neighborhood bookstore.
Then stopped at Queensboro Savings, where he deposited money into my college account.
“Queensboro Savings.”
Mara searched.
“It merged with Atlantic Federal in 2009.”
“Safe-deposit records would transfer,” Sebastian said.
Mara was already calling.
Forty-five minutes later, we stood inside an Atlantic Federal branch in Queens.
The manager was terrified of Sebastian.
That irritated me.
Sebastian noticed that too.
“Relax,” he told the man.
The manager somehow became more frightened.
Mara handled the paperwork.
Box 4108 had indeed belonged to Thomas Lane.
It had been prepaid through a trust for thirty years.
Inside was a black notebook, two envelopes, and a cassette tape.
Sebastian stared at the notebook.
“Don’t touch it,” I said.
He looked at me.
“It belonged to my father.”
He nodded.
I opened it.
The first pages contained dates, payments, initials, and addresses.
Then names appeared.
Judges.
Police officers.
Union officials.
Business owners.
Richard Ward.
Evelyn Cross.
And one name I recognized.
Victor Hale.
I stopped.
Sebastian saw it.
“What?”
I turned the notebook.
Victor’s name appeared beside a payment dated seventeen years earlier.
$250,000.
My heart pounded.
“What does that mean?”
Sebastian’s expression became unreadable.
“I don’t know.”
Mara looked at him.
“You need to tell Victor.”
“No.”
“Sebastian—”
“No one knows what we found.”
“Victor has protected you for fourteen years.”
“And if this notebook is accurate, he took money from my father before that.”
I felt sick.
Trust numbers before people.
My father’s words suddenly sounded less like advice and more like a warning.
I opened one envelope.
Inside was a letter addressed to my mother.
The second had my name.
My hands shook as I opened it.
My sweet Valerie,
If you are old enough to read this without your mother beside you, then I am sorry.
I worked for dangerous people because I convinced myself that keeping their books did not make me responsible for what they did.
I was wrong.
Numbers can hide crimes, but they can also reveal them.
Richard Ward believes Evelyn Cross has betrayed him. Evelyn believes Richard is moving money without her knowledge. Both are correct.
But there is someone else.
Someone younger.
Someone who wants Richard’s empire and intends to make his sons inherit the blame.
I stopped reading.
Sebastian’s face had gone pale.
“His sons?”
I continued.
I do not know his real name. In the records he is marked only as JANUS.
He has access to Richard’s security, Evelyn’s accounts, and law enforcement.
If anything happens to me, assume JANUS knows I discovered him.
The final line made my skin crawl.
He has already asked about my daughter.
I lowered the letter.
Nobody spoke.
Sixteen years ago, someone had known about me.
Someone was still looking.
Mara broke the silence.
“We need the cassette.”
The bank had an old media reader in its records office.
The sound quality was terrible.
Then my father’s voice filled the room.
I stopped breathing.
“October seventeenth, 2010. My name is Thomas Lane.”
My eyes flooded instantly.
I had forgotten his voice.
That realization hurt more than hearing it.
“If this recording is being played, I failed to get my family away safely.”
Sebastian stood beside me, rigid.
“Richard Ward is not the only danger. His organization has been infiltrated by a man using the name Janus. Evelyn Cross believes Janus is Richard’s financial lieutenant. Richard believes Janus works for Evelyn. Neither understands that he is playing both sides.”
Static crackled.
Then:
“I have evidence linking Janus to Detective Malcolm Voss.”
Mara gasped.
Sebastian swore under his breath.
“Who?”
“Former NYPD,” Mara said. “Organized Crime Bureau.”
My father continued.
“Voss arranged protection for shipments, bribed officers, and buried investigations. Janus pays him through intermediaries.”
Another burst of static.
“I believe Janus intends to kill Richard Ward and blame Evelyn. He will then manipulate Sebastian Ward into eliminating what remains of Evelyn’s network.”
Sebastian closed his eyes.
It had happened.
I could tell from his face.
“Your father died eleven years ago,” I whispered.
“Evelyn disappeared the same week.”
“You thought she did it.”
“Yes.”
My father had predicted everything.
The tape continued.
“If Sebastian Ward ever hears this, understand something your father would never tell you. Richard was afraid of you.”
Sebastian’s eyes opened.
“He believed you were strong enough to replace him and decent enough to dismantle what he built.”
Sebastian stared at the machine.
For the first time, the feared man beside me looked like someone’s son.
Then my father said one final thing.
“The only person I know who has seen Janus’s face is Evelyn Cross.”
The recording ended.
Silence.
Mara immediately reached for her phone.
“We find Evelyn.”
Sebastian nodded.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Every instinct told me not to answer.
Sebastian said, “Speaker.”
I accepted.
“Hello?”
A woman spoke.
“Valerie Lane?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Evelyn Cross.”
Everyone froze.
“If Sebastian Ward is with you, don’t react.”
I looked straight ahead.
“He is.”
“Good. Listen carefully.”
Her voice trembled.
“Janus knows you found the box.”
My heart stopped.
“How?”
“Because he has someone standing beside Sebastian right now.”
I slowly looked around.
Mara.
Sebastian.
The bank manager behind the glass.
Two security officers.
And Victor Hale, who had entered the room less than a minute earlier without any of us noticing.
May you like
Evelyn whispered through the phone.
“Whatever you do, Valerie, do not let Victor see the notebook.”
