Chapter 3 - Ten Million Dollars and One Dangerous Secret
They escaped through a rear loading entrance before three black vehicles blocked the front.
Nobody fired.
Eric refused to start a confrontation without knowing who was inside.
Emma found herself in the back of his armored sedan.
“This is insane.”
Eric sat beside her.
“Agreed.”
“I was serving cheesecake two hours ago.”
“And now?”
“I’m being chased over a dead man’s dialect.”
Eric looked at her.
“You regret speaking?”
Emma thought about it.
“No.”
That answer seemed to surprise him.
At Eric’s downtown office, Dominic locked the ledger inside a safe.
Eric called his brother.
Michael arrived forty minutes later.
He looked younger than Eric and considerably angrier.
“You think I killed Uncle Carlo?”
Eric threw photocopies across the desk.
“I think someone wants me to.”
Michael read them.
“This is fabricated.”
Emma spoke from the sofa.
“Not all of it.”
Both brothers looked at her.
She pointed toward a notation.
“That phrase appears repeatedly.”
Michael frowned.
“What does it say?”
“‘Empty ship.’”
Eric approached.
“Meaning?”
“I don’t know.”
Michael looked at her suspiciously.
“And who exactly are you?”
“The waitress.”
Michael stared at Eric.
“The waitress?”
“She translated Carlo’s letter.”
“The thing six experts couldn’t translate?”
“Yes.”
Michael looked at Emma.
“How?”
“My grandfather.”
He suddenly became interested.
“Who was your grandfather?”
“Samuel Hayes.”
“Before that.”
Emma stiffened.
“What?”
“Hayes isn’t Italian.”
“My mother’s family changed their surname.”
“To what?”
Emma hesitated.
“Genovese.”
The room became silent.
Eric said, “Your grandfather was Samuel Genovese?”
“Yes.”
Michael looked at his brother.
“Carlo knew him.”
Emma stood.
“What?”
Michael nodded.
“They worked the docks together when they were young.”
Eric’s eyes narrowed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t ask.”
Emma stared between them.
“My grandfather knew your uncle?”
“Apparently.”
Michael picked up the copy.
“That explains why Carlo used this language.”
Emma suddenly understood.
“He wasn’t hiding the message from everyone.”
Eric watched her.
“He was writing it for someone specific.”
“My grandfather.”
“But your grandfather is dead.”
“Four months.”
Eric looked at the letter.
“Carlo may not have known.”
Emma walked closer.
“The final line.”
“What about it?”
“I didn’t translate all of it.”
Eric’s gaze hardened.
“You withheld something?”
“I couldn’t understand it.”
She pointed toward a cluster of words.
“But now I can.”
“What does it say?”
Emma translated slowly.
“‘If Samuel is gone, trust the girl who remembers his songs.’”
Nobody spoke.
Emma felt goose bumps rise along her arms.
Michael stared at her.
“Carlo knew about you.”
“I never met him.”
Eric looked toward the ledger.
“Maybe you did.”
Emma frowned.
“What?”
“Did your grandfather ever have visitors?”
“Old men sometimes.”
“Names?”
“He never introduced them.”
“Pictures?”
Emma thought.
Then froze.
“There’s a photograph.”
“Where?”
“My apartment.”
Eric grabbed his coat.
Michael blocked him.
“You can’t take her there.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever followed us to the warehouse knows she translated the letter.”
Emma’s stomach tightened.
Michael continued.
“They’ll figure out who she is.”
Eric turned toward Dominic.
“Send someone to her apartment.”
Emma shook her head.
“No.”
Eric looked at her.
“What?”
“My grandfather’s things are hidden.”
“Where?”
“I’m not telling your men.”
“Emma.”
She stepped toward him.
“Ten million dollars buys my translation.”
Her voice remained steady.
“It doesn’t buy my trust.”
Eric stared at her.
Then unexpectedly nodded.
“Fair.”
Michael laughed.
“You’re letting a waitress dictate terms?”
Eric looked at him.
“She’s the smartest person in this room tonight.”
Emma picked up her coat.
“Come on.”
“Where?”
“My apartment.”
She looked directly at Eric.
May you like
“But only you.”
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