Chapter 22 - The Dead Man's Ledger
Back on the mainland, the rain lashed against the high arched windows of the Marlowe residence.
Gabriel stood in the restored library, reviewing maritime supply grants for the upcoming winter term. The fire in the hearth crackled with steady warmth, filling the vast room with the scent of split ash. On the low side table, baby Claire, now nearly two years old, was contentedly stacking wooden blocks painted with letters of the alphabet.
Gabriel’s satellite phone buzzed against the mahogany desk.
"Gabriel," Hannah’s voice came through, crisp despite the marine static. "We picked up two survivors from an offshore sinking three miles outside the fairway. Coast Guard escort is meeting us at the Gloucester town pier."
Gabriel stood up, his protective instincts instantly sharpening. "Is Eli alright?"
"Eli brought the boat alongside in thirty-knot crosswinds without scraping a coat of paint," Hannah said, pride humming in her voice. "He was brilliant. But Gabriel... you need to meet us at the dock. The captain of the boat we pulled out of the water is Bobby 'The Hook' Fallon."
The name slammed into Gabriel’s memory like a lead weight.
Fallon had been Howard Vance’s shadow during the late 1990s—the man who handled the unregistered dry-dock manifests before Dominic Vane took over the local syndicate. Fallon had vanished from the Boston docks forty-eight hours before the explosion on Commonwealth Avenue, presumed dead after his skiff was found burned near Revere Beach.
"He's alive?" Gabriel asked, his jaw hardening.
"He’s alive, shivering in my galley, and he’s terrified," Hannah said. "He told me he didn't run because of the feds. He ran because Howard Vance left an offshore safety deposit box in Halifax that contains the original port-authority contracts from 2012. He claims Howard wasn't acting alone when he dropped the crane on Julian."
Gabriel closed his eyes for two seconds, letting the shock pass, replaced instantly by the cold, methodical focus that had once ruled his life. "Keep him in the galley. Don't let him near the VHF radio. I’m leaving now."
Forty minutes later, Gabriel’s dark SUV pulled onto the rain-swept timber of the Gloucester pier just as the Coast Guard cutter tied off behind The Anchor.
Paramedics escorted the younger deckhand to an ambulance, but Fallon remained seated on an upturned wooden crate beneath the harbormaster’s awning, wrapped in a coarse wool blanket, sipping hot coffee from a paper cup.
When Gabriel stepped out into the rain, Fallon looked up. The old dockhand shrank back against the shed wall, his knuckles whitening around the paper cup.
"I didn't plant no bombs, Marlowe," Fallon stammered, teeth chattering from the Atlantic chill. "I swear on my mother’s soul. I was just the cargo clerk."
Gabriel stopped three feet away, looking down at him. There was no rage in his expression—only the immense, unyielding gravity of a man who had already survived the worst the world could throw at him.
"You knew the crane cable was compromised, Bobby," Gabriel said quietly. "You cleared the dock apron three minutes before the boom dropped on Julian Cole."
"I was told to!" Fallon pleaded, tears cutting through the grime on his weathered face. "Howard gave me ten grand in cash and a bus ticket to Maine. He told me if I stayed on the pier, Dominic Vane would put me in a fifty-five-gallon drum of quicklime. But it wasn't just Howard's money, Gabriel. Howard was broke! He was taking orders from someone higher up the state maritime board."
Hannah stepped out of the academy office, having settled Eli inside with dry clothes. She walked over, stopping beside Gabriel, the rain beading on her canvas jacket.
"Who was signing the authorizations, Bobby?" Hannah demanded.
May you like
Fallon reached into his oilskin coat, pulling out a sealed waterproof pouch he had kept tied around his neck with heavy fishing line. He held it out with trembling fingers.
"The Halifax box key is in there," Fallon whispered. "Along with the signature receipts. The man who paid Howard to drop that container was Senator Arthur Vance... Marcus and Howard's uncle. The man who chaired the State Maritime Safety Oversight Committee."
