Chapter 2 - The Name Beneath the Black Stone
Eric cleared the private dining room in ninety seconds.
Customers were escorted out.
Employees were sent home.
Emma wasn’t.
She sat across from Eric while Dominic guarded the door.
Anthony had been taken elsewhere.
Emma didn’t ask where.
Eric placed the letter between them.
“You said your translation was wrong.”
“One word.”
“Which?”
“Saint.”
Emma pointed toward the sentence.
“The literal translation can mean saint, guardian, or protector.”
“And Christopher?”
“That’s what confused me.”
Eric waited.
Emma looked at him.
“Your uncle wasn’t talking about a church.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Cristoforo is written with a capital letter, but the word before it means guardian in the old dialect.”
Eric stared at her.
Then realization appeared.
“Christopher Guard.”
Emma blinked.
“What?”
“A shipping company my family owned forty years ago.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“Boss, there’s an abandoned Christopher Guard warehouse near the old freight yards.”
Eric stood.
“We’re going.”
Emma immediately stood too.
“Great. I’ll call a cab.”
Eric looked at her.
“You’re coming.”
“No.”
“Emma—”
“How do you know my name?”
Eric pointed toward her uniform badge.
She looked down.
“Oh.”
For the first time that night, something almost resembling amusement appeared in his eyes.
Then vanished.
“You’re the only person who can read the letter.”
“I’m also a waitress whose shift ended twenty minutes ago.”
“I offered ten million dollars.”
“You were joking.”
“I don’t joke about money.”
Emma folded her arms.
“Then put it in writing.”
Dominic actually coughed.
Eric stared at her.
“You’re negotiating with me?”
“I’ve spent six years dealing with restaurant managers. You’re not as intimidating as you think.”
Dominic turned away to hide a smile.
Eric studied her for several seconds.
“Fine.”
He took out his phone.
“My attorney will prepare an agreement.”
Emma blinked.
“You’re serious?”
“Completely.”
“Ten million?”
“If your translation leads me to whoever killed my uncle.”
Emma looked toward the letter.
“Then we have a deal.”
Thirty minutes later, they arrived at an abandoned warehouse near the Chicago River.
Emma stayed close to Eric.
“Where’s the black stone?”
“That’s what we’re finding.”
They entered an old office.
A cracked mosaic covered one wall.
Emma stopped.
A horse stood in the center of it.
“The first sentence.”
Eric looked at her.
“‘The horse drinks where the saint has no face.’”
Beneath the horse was a faded fountain.
Above it stood a headless stone statue.
Dominic whispered, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Emma approached.
The statue’s base was black marble.
“The black stone.”
Eric crouched.
Together, he and Dominic shifted it.
Underneath was a steel compartment.
Inside sat a waterproof envelope.
Eric opened it.
A ledger.
Bank transfers.
Shipping numbers.
Names.
Dozens of them.
Then Emma saw Eric’s expression change.
“What?”
He turned one page.
“My uncle was investigating someone inside my organization.”
Dominic read over his shoulder.
“Anthony.”
“No.”
Eric pointed lower.
“Anthony was being paid.”
“By who?”
Eric turned another page.
Emma watched the color disappear from his face.
A name was written at the top.
MICHAEL MORETTI.
Dominic whispered, “Your brother.”
Eric closed the ledger.
“No.”
Emma looked at him.
“You think it’s fake?”
“I think someone wants me to believe my brother murdered our uncle.”
“Why?”
“Because if I go after Michael, the Moretti organization splits in half.”
Emma understood.
“A war.”
“Yes.”
Then a noise came from outside.
A car door.
Dominic reached inside his jacket.
Eric immediately moved Emma behind him.
“Stay there.”
She whispered, “Who knows we’re here?”
Eric looked toward the entrance.
May you like
“Apparently someone who understood more of that letter than they admitted.”
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