Chapter 9 - the second key
Victor didn’t lower his weapon. “Step back against the chimney.”
Julian raised his mud-soaked hands and backed away slowly until his spine hit the wet stone.
Clara stepped forward, kneeling beside the rusted metal box lying among the debris. The box was about the size of a ledger, secured with a heavy iron padlock that bore the same stamped initials: *S. B. 04*.
Clara pulled the tarnished brass key from her pocket. Her fingers were cold, but her hand didn’t shake. She inserted the key into the lock and turned it.
A crisp, mechanical click echoed through the ruined cabin.
Victor kept his gun leveled at Julian. “Open it, Clara.”
Clara lifted the heavy iron lid.
Inside lay no stacks of cash or bearer bonds. Instead, there was a thick stack of audio cassette tapes, a leather-bound medical journal, and an old black-and-white photograph.
Clara picked up the photograph and held it toward the flashlight beam.
Victor glanced down.
The photograph showed four people standing outside the very cabin they were standing in, dated thirty-five years ago.
A young Silvio Bellaro stood on the left. Beside him was his sister Elena.
On the right stood Senator Vance as a young man.
And in the center, smiling warmly with his arm around Silvio’s sister, was an older man with piercing eyes and a heavy gold signet ring on his pinky.
Victor’s breath caught in his throat.
“That’s Don Lorenzo Moretti,” Victor whispered, recognizing the founder of the Bellaro family’s blood rival syndicate.
Julian let out a bitter, shivering laugh from the shadows of the hearth.
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“You thought Celeste was just Silvio’s niece?” Julian sneered, rain running down his face. “Aunt Elena wasn't killed by the Morettis in 1984, Victor. She was Lorenzo Moretti’s legal wife. Celeste isn't just a Bellaro. She’s the sole surviving heir to the Moretti family fortune.”
***
