Chapter 2 - Room 214
I reached Renata’s floor in less than a minute.
Mateo’s men had already locked down the hallway.
The photograph could only have been taken from inside the hospital.
Or from the building across the street.
I entered Renata’s room.
She was asleep.
Nothing seemed disturbed.
Then I noticed the curtain.
It had been moved.
I crossed to the window and looked down.
Across the avenue stood a twenty-story office building.
Most of its windows were dark.
One light was still burning on the fourteenth floor.
Mateo arrived behind me.
“You see it?”
“Yes.”
He raised his phone.
“One of my people is checking the building.”
“No confrontation.”
Mateo gave me a look.
“You’ve changed.”
“I had a daughter.”
“That’ll do it.”
I showed him the key.
“Find out what 214 means.”
He photographed it.
Then he noticed Renata’s notebook.
His expression hardened when he read Elena’s message.
“Daniel.”
“I know.”
“Elena’s crash was investigated.”
“By people connected to Senator Beltran.”
Mateo went quiet.
That was the problem with old friends.
Sometimes silence confirmed more than words.
By noon, we had an answer about the key.
It belonged to a private storage company beneath Grand Central Terminal.
The company had gone bankrupt seven years earlier.
Its remaining lockers had been transferred to a secure warehouse in Brooklyn.
Locker 214 was still registered.
The owner’s name was Elena Salgado.
My dead wife.
I felt the room tilt beneath me.
Elena had never told me about it.
Mateo and I reached the warehouse shortly after 2:00 p.m.
The manager tried to stop us until I showed Elena’s death certificate and identification proving I was her husband.
He led us through rows of metal doors.
“Two-fourteen.”
My hand shook when I inserted the key.
The lock clicked.
Inside was a small fireproof box.
Nothing else.
I opened it.
A photograph lay on top.
Elena stood beside Victor Serrano outside a restaurant.
The date printed in the corner was three weeks before her death.
Beneath the photograph was a flash drive.
A handwritten ledger.
And an envelope with my name.
DANIEL.
My chest tightened.
I opened it.
My wife’s handwriting covered three pages.
Daniel,
If you are reading this, something happened to me.
Victor contacted me.
He says your old organization was never dismantled.
It was stolen.
I stopped reading.
Mateo stared at me.
“What does that mean?”
I continued.
Victor claims Cordova, Beltran, and Varela used your network to build legitimate empires.
He says they have spent nineteen years erasing anyone who could prove where their money came from.
He also says someone close to us helped them.
The final sentence was underlined.
I do not know whether Victor is trying to save us or destroy us.
A sound came from behind the warehouse door.
Footsteps.
More than one person.
Mateo closed the box.
“We’ve got company.”
The door handle slowly turned.
Then a familiar voice came through the metal.
“Daniel.”
I froze.
May you like
I had not heard that voice in nineteen years.
Victor Serrano was standing on the other side.
