Chapter 17 - Sofia's Daughter

Isabella Moretti lived in Rome.

At least Luca believed she did.

By sunrise, they learned she had entered the United States three weeks earlier under her married name and checked into a private residence in Key Biscayne.

Luca stared at the immigration record.

“She didn't call me.”

Elena said, “Would you have told her about Port Meridian?”

“No.”

“Then perhaps secrecy runs in the family.”

He did not argue.

Isabella was forty, two years younger than Luca, and had left Miami after their mother's funeral. Elena had met her only twice.

“She hated the organization,” Luca said.

“People can hate a system and still use its money.”

Luca looked at her.

“You have become disturbingly practical.”

“I had good teachers.”

They drove to Key Biscayne with Camille.

The residence was empty.

No signs of struggle.

On the kitchen table sat a blue glass lantern.

Luca stopped.

“My mother had one like this.”

Under it was an envelope.

LUCA.

Inside was a letter.

Brother,

If you are reading this, then Dominic is probably dead and the account has been exposed.

I did not kill him.

Do not believe Hale when he says I control the network.

I control only the money our mother hid.

I used it to pay people to watch the people who watched you.

Sometimes those people did terrible things.

Sometimes I authorized things I will have to answer for.

But I did not order Daniel Cho's death, the hospital attack, or Dominic's shooting.

Voss did.

Hale is trying to trade my name for his freedom.

If you want the records, come to Mother's house.

Alone.

Luca lowered the page.

Elena said, “No.”

He glanced at her.

“That sounded familiar.”

“You're learning.”

Camille took the letter.

“Mother's house?”

“A property in Coconut Grove. Empty since Sofia died.”

They arrived with a full team.

Isabella was waiting on the veranda.

She wore white linen and held no weapon.

When Luca stepped out, she smiled sadly.

“You brought everyone.”

“You asked me to come alone. That was your first mistake.”

“Marriage improved you.”

Elena almost choked.

Isabella's eyes moved to her.

“Hello, Elena.”

“Isabella.”

“I owe you an apology.”

“Get in line.”

For the first time, Isabella smiled.

Then Camille approached.

“Hands where I can see them.”

Isabella complied.

Inside the house, she opened a hidden compartment behind Sofia's portrait.

Blue Lantern records filled six binders.

Payments to private investigators.

Payments to informants.

Payments to security contractors.

Several illegal surveillance operations.

Two bribed officials.

And three payments tied to violence.

Luca slammed one binder shut.

“You said you didn't order Dominic's shooting.”

“I didn't.”

“This contractor received Blue Lantern money.”

“Months ago. For surveillance.”

Camille asked, “Could Voss access the account?”

“No.”

“Then how did he pay the sniper?”

Isabella looked at Elena.

“He didn't.”

Elena felt the room tighten.

“Who did?”

Isabella turned a page.

The payment had been authorized with Sofia's old authentication phrase.

Only two people knew it.

Isabella.

And Luca.

Luca laughed once.

“That is impossible.”

Isabella looked at him.

“Someone used your credentials.”

Camille said, “Who had access?”

“Dominic,” Luca answered.

Everyone went silent.

Elena stared at the payment date.

It was made two days before Dominic was shot.

“Dominic paid the man who later shot him?”

Isabella nodded.

“That is what the ledger shows.”

Camille frowned.

“A suicide arrangement?”

“No,” Elena said.

She remembered Dominic's warning.

Trust no copy you didn't make yourself.

“He was planting the trail.”

Luca looked at her.

“Why?”

“To expose Blue Lantern.”

Isabella nodded slowly.

“He knew I was using it.”

Luca turned on her.

“For what?”

“To identify compromised people around you.”

“You could have called.”

“And you could have told your wife about Vanessa.”

Elena raised a hand.

“Please do not make me referee sibling hypocrisy.”

Camille almost smiled.

Isabella became serious.

“Dominic contacted me three weeks ago. He said Hale would attempt to force him out and Voss would inherit the Ferryman seat. He asked me to fund surveillance on both.”

“Then why is the sniper paid?”

“Because the contractor's account was hijacked.”

“By Voss?”

“I thought so.”

Elena flipped through transaction logs.

One authorization occurred at 3:17 a.m. the morning she left Luca.

She stopped.

The exact time.

Again.

“What is this?”

Isabella leaned over.

“That transfer opened a dormant escrow.”

“To whom?”

A shell company.

Mateo recognized it.

“Atlantic Crown Holdings.”

Vanessa's father's company.

Elena felt the pieces move.

Thomas had not merely been a frightened husband.

He had controlled a financial bridge between Blue Lantern and Crescent Maritime.

Vanessa whispered, “My father.”

Camille called the hospital.

Thomas Reed's room was empty.

A nurse had found his IV disconnected at 5:12.

No forced exit.

No surveillance footage after 5:00.

Luca looked at Vanessa.

“He ran.”

Vanessa shook her head.

“No.”

Elena watched her.

“You still trust him?”

“No.”

Vanessa's voice hardened.

“But I understand him now.”

She pointed to the 3:17 transfer.

“He saw the trust activate and knew the whole network would collapse toward Port Meridian.”

Camille asked, “Where would he go?”

Vanessa looked at Elena.

“To the one place he believes still belongs to him.”

“Atlantic Crown?”

“No.”

Vanessa shook her head.

“My mother's house.”

Elena remembered the red file, the hidden recorder, the years of secrets.

“Where?”

Vanessa gave the address.

Luca checked his weapon.

Camille called her team.

Elena looked at the blue lantern on the table.

It had illuminated nothing by itself.

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It had only shown them where someone else chose to look.

And Thomas Reed had spent twenty-two years deciding where everyone looked next.