Chapter 4 - The Vault
I stared at the glowing blue scanner in pure desperation.
I had survived a hitman and driven across the city just to hit an impossible dead end.
“Is there any alternative way to verify my identity?” I pleaded with the stern guard.
He shook his head slowly.
“The security protocols were explicitly designed by the account holder to prevent unauthorized access by her son,” he replied.
I looked down at the silver key resting in my palm.
I ran my thumb over my engraved maiden name on the back of the metal.
Eleanor was a brilliant woman who anticipated every possible outcome.
She would not have given me this key on her deathbed if it was completely useless.
I examined the key closer under the harsh fluorescent lights of the underground hallway.
The head of the key was unusually thick and heavy.
I grabbed both ends of the silver object and twisted them in opposite directions.
With a soft click, the top of the key unscrewed, revealing a hollow chamber inside the metal.
I tipped the hollow key upside down over my open palm.
A highly sophisticated, custom-molded contact lens fell into my hand.
Eleanor had actually captured a perfect replica of her own retinal pattern.
She had hidden it inside the very key that Julian spent years trying to steal.
I carefully placed the contact lens over my right eye.
I stepped up to the security panel and leaned into the bright blue light.
The machine beeped twice, and the massive steel vault door hissed open with a heavy mechanical groan.
I stepped alone into the freezing, sterile room filled with thousands of metal lockboxes.
I matched the serial number on the key to a large, rectangular drawer near the floor.
I inserted the silver key and turned it smoothly.
I pulled the drawer open, expecting to find stacks of cash or antique jewelry.
Instead, the box contained a thick stack of legal documents and a single black flash drive.
I pulled the first document out and read the bold heading printed at the top of the page.
It was a certified copy of a birth certificate.
The name on the certificate was Julian.
But the names listed under the parents were completely unfamiliar.
Eleanor was not Julian’s biological mother.
Julian was the illegitimate son of a notorious organized crime boss, and Eleanor had been paid millions to hide him.
I grabbed the black flash drive and plugged it into the secure terminal provided in the room.
The screen illuminated with dozens of international banking accounts totaling over fifty million dollars.
The money legally belonged exclusively to me, specifically designated in a trust under my maiden name.
Before I could celebrate my newfound freedom, my cell phone rang loudly in the quiet vault.
May you like
I answered the unknown number.
“I know exactly where you are, Sarah, and you are not leaving that building alive,” the woman from Maui whispered.
