Chapter 4 - The Man Sitting at Eric’s Table
Emma’s apartment was small and painfully ordinary.
Eric looked almost absurd standing inside it in a tailored suit.
Emma pulled a wooden box from beneath a loose floorboard.
“My grandfather became paranoid near the end.”
“Maybe he had reasons.”
She opened it.
Photographs.
Letters.
A brass compass.
Emma found the picture.
Five men stood beside a fishing boat.
One was her grandfather.
Another was Carlo Moretti.
Eric pointed toward the third.
“Anthony’s father.”
Emma looked closer.
“And him?”
Eric’s expression changed.
“Victor Salerno.”
Emma remembered him.
“The man sitting at your table tonight.”
“Yes.”
She turned over the photograph.
Words were written on the back in the same dialect.
Emma translated.
“‘Five began. Three betrayed. Two remained.’”
Eric stared at it.
“Samuel and Carlo.”
Emma searched the box.
At the bottom was a cassette tape.
“My grandfather recorded stories.”
Eric noticed writing on its label.
FOR EMMA — WHEN THE OLD LANGUAGE RETURNS.
Emma’s hands became cold.
She found an old cassette player in the closet.
Static filled the apartment.
Then her grandfather’s voice emerged.
“Emma, if you’re hearing this, Carlo finally decided the past could no longer stay buried.”
Emma covered her mouth.
Eric said nothing.
The recording continued.
“Listen carefully. Carlo is a stubborn fool, but an honorable one. If something happens to him, the danger will come from the Salerno family.”
Eric’s face hardened.
“Victor.”
The tape continued.
“They have spent thirty years placing their people inside Moretti businesses. They don’t want money. They want control.”
Emma looked at Eric.
Her grandfather’s voice crackled.
“And if Carlo sends the ledger, the obvious name inside it will be false.”
Michael.
Emma whispered, “Your brother was framed.”
Eric immediately called Dominic.
“Find Michael. Now.”
A pause.
Eric’s expression changed.
“When?”
Emma stood.
“What happened?”
Eric lowered the phone.
“Michael disappeared twenty minutes ago.”
Emma replayed the recording.
Her grandfather continued.
“The proof is not in the ledger. The ledger is bait.”
Eric stared at the cassette player.
“The letter is the real message.”
Emma grabbed the bloodstained page.
She examined the first letter of every line.
Then the last.
Her grandfather had taught her this game as a child.
“Eric.”
“What?”
“The translation isn’t enough.”
She began writing the letters separately.
C.
V.
S.
H.
Another pattern appeared.
Emma whispered, “Victor Salerno.”
Eric went completely still.
“And the next line?”
She decoded it.
“‘He will take the brother to Pier Nine.’”
Eric was already moving.
Emma grabbed his arm.
“You can’t go alone.”
He looked at her hand.
Then her face.
“You’ve done enough.”
“No. My grandfather left this for me.”
“He left it so you could survive.”
“He left it because he trusted me to finish it.”
Eric hesitated.
Emma stepped closer.
“You promised ten million dollars if I translated the letter.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not finished translating.”
For several seconds, Eric simply looked at her.
Then he nodded.
“Stay beside me.”
“Fine.”
“Whatever happens, you listen when I tell you to move.”
Emma picked up the letter.
“Whatever happens, you listen when I tell you to read.”
Eric almost smiled.
May you like
“Deal.”
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