Chapter 5 - The Confession Richard Stole

They returned to the harbor house before dawn.

Nobody went back to the estate.

Christian sat at the old kitchen table.

The two tapes remained between them.

Samuel found an old cassette player in a cabinet.

Victor looked at it.

“Charles kept everything.”

Charles answered:

“Not everything.”

Christian pressed PLAY.

Static.

Then Anthony Voss’s voice.

Fifteen years younger.

Nervous.

“I want it clear that I did not authorize the sale of DeLuca schedules.”

Another voice.

Richard.

Smooth.

Calm.

“You authorized the company that carried them.”

Anthony replied:

“Because you told me they were customs documents.”

Leonard Russo spoke next.

“Lower your voice.”

Then chairs moved.

Anthony said:

“I have copies.”

Richard laughed.

“Copies are useful only if you live long enough to show them.”

The tape ended.

Amelia covered her mouth.

Victor stared at the machine.

Christian rewound it.

Played the last sentence again.

Copies are useful only if you live long enough to show them.

He stopped the tape.

“That’s a threat.”

Charles nodded.

“Yes.”

Christian inserted the second tape.

This recording began with Eleanor Voss.

Amelia’s mother.

She sounded frightened.

“Richard told me Anthony has a gun.”

Anthony answered:

“I don’t.”

Eleanor:

“He said you were going after Victor.”

Anthony:

“He lied to you.”

Then Charles’s voice.

“Eleanor, who did you tell where we were meeting?”

Silence.

Then crying.

Eleanor whispered:

“Richard.”

Amelia closed her eyes.

Victor looked away.

The recording continued.

Anthony:

“He wanted the schedule.”

Charles:

“He wanted us in one place.”

Then the tape stopped.

Christian stared.

“That’s it?”

Samuel nodded.

“The third recording was made later that night.”

“By Anthony?”

“No.”

Charles looked at him.

“By Leonard.”

Christian turned.

“Why would Leonard record a confession?”

Samuel answered:

“Because Leonard wanted insurance too.”

Charles’s expression hardened.

“What confession?”

Samuel hesitated.

Then said:

“Richard admitted he ordered the airport attack.”

Victor stared.

“You heard it?”

“No.”

“I saw Leonard hide the tape.”

Christian stood.

“Where?”

“Inside the lining of Charles’s old flight bag.”

Charles frowned.

“My flight bag disappeared.”

Samuel nodded.

“I know who took it.”

Christian waited.

“Eleanor.”

Amelia looked up.

“My mother?”

Samuel nodded.

“She came to the estate the morning after the plane was found.”

Victor looked stunned.

“She never told me.”

“She was terrified.”

Samuel rubbed his hands together.

“She said Leonard had called her. Told her Richard was cleaning everything up.”

Christian asked:

“What did she do with the bag?”

“I don’t know.”

Amelia suddenly stood.

“Yes, you do.”

Everyone looked at her.

She was staring at the wall.

Not at Samuel.

At a framed photograph.

Her mother.

At the Voss summer house.

Amelia whispered:

“When I was twelve, my mother made me promise never to open the blue trunk in the attic.”

Victor’s face changed.

“The summer house.”

Amelia nodded.

“She kept saying it belonged to someone who might come back for it.”

Christian grabbed his coat.

Charles stood too.

Victor stopped him.

“No.”

Everyone turned.

Victor looked at Charles.

“The house burned eight years ago.”

Amelia stared.

“What?”

Victor’s voice dropped.

“Not all of it.”

He looked ashamed.

“The attic was destroyed.”

Christian’s jaw tightened.

“You never told her?”

Victor looked at his daughter.

“You were in college. Your mother had already died.”

Amelia whispered:

“What survived?”

Victor thought.

“The stone cellar.”

Samuel looked at Charles.

“The old trunk may have fallen through.”

Christian moved toward the door.

Then stopped.

A new voice came from the hallway.

“Or it may have been removed first.”

They all turned.

Richard DeLuca stood in the doorway.

No guards.

No gun visible.

Just a dark overcoat.

Christian stepped in front of Charles.

Richard smiled faintly.

“There he is.”

Charles stared at his younger brother.

Fifteen years.

No greeting.

No shock.

Richard looked at Christian.

“You have your father’s posture.”

Christian’s voice was flat.

“You have thirty seconds before security gets here.”

Richard held up a cassette tape.

Black plastic.

White label.

C.D.

Charles went still.

Christian looked at it.

“The third tape?”

Richard smiled.

“No.”

He placed it on the table.

“This one is newer.”

Christian didn’t touch it.

“What’s on it?”

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Richard looked at Charles.

“Your father explaining why he stayed dead even after I stopped threatening him.”