Chapter 5 - The Man Luca Buried
Smoke rolled beneath the ceiling.
Luca grabbed the laptop and notebook.
Emma clutched her father’s letter.
Richard tried the fire door.
“Locked.”
Trevor coughed.
“Can’t we break it?”
“It’s steel.”
Victoria pointed toward the rear wall.
“Ventilation?”
Luca shook his head.
“Too small.”
Emma’s eyes burned.
The smoke thickened rapidly.
Then she noticed a maintenance panel inside locker seventeen.
Loose screws.
“Here.”
Luca kicked it once.
Nothing.
Again.
The panel bent inward.
Richard joined him.
Together they tore it free.
Behind it was a narrow utility corridor.
“One at a time,” Luca said.
Victoria crawled through first.
Then Trevor.
Richard.
Emma pushed the laptop ahead.
Flames appeared at the far end of the storage corridor.
“Go,” Luca shouted.
Emma crawled.
Heat pressed against her back.
The utility passage ended behind an electrical closet.
Richard smashed through the thin drywall.
They spilled into a neighboring loading bay.
Thirty seconds later, flames engulfed locker seventeen.
Outside, Emma stood shaking in the cold while firefighters arrived.
Luca watched the building.
“They knew exactly where we were.”
Richard said, “Those men at Diane’s house?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“They were hired muscle.”
Luca looked at the burning facility.
“This was organized.”
Emma held up the leather notebook.
“Then they failed.”
Luca looked at it.
“Maybe.”
They drove to an apartment Luca kept under another name.
Emma opened her father’s notebook on the kitchen table.
Most pages contained numbers.
Shipment codes.
Dates.
Initials.
Some entries were written in Italian.
Others in English.
A repeated name appeared in the margins.
M.M.
Luca stopped turning pages.
Emma noticed.
“You know those initials.”
He said nothing.
“Luca.”
He looked older suddenly.
“My brother.”
Emma stared.
“You have a brother?”
“Had.”
The word came out flat.
“What was his name?”
“Matteo Moretti.”
Richard sat across from him.
“What happened?”
Luca looked at the notebook.
“He died in 2015.”
Emma waited.
“Boat explosion off Ancona.”
“I’m sorry.”
Luca did not respond.
Instead, he turned to another page.
M.M.—payment approved.
M.M.—Zurich contact.
M.M.—Jonathan refuses.
M.M.—Luca cannot know.
Emma read the final line twice.
“Luca cannot know.”
His face hardened.
“My brother was involved.”
“You don’t know that.”
“My father used his initials.”
“Could be someone else.”
Luca shook his head.
“Matteo worked in maritime finance.”
Richard asked, “For whom?”
“Several firms.”
“Any connected to Caldwell?”
“I don’t know.”
Emma looked toward the laptop.
“Maybe that knows.”
It required a password.
They tried David’s birthday.
Emma’s birthday.
Diane’s.
Nothing.
The password hint read:
THE FIRST THING SHE TAUGHT YOU.
Emma frowned.
“Who is she?”
Luca looked at her.
“Your grandmother?”
Emma remembered summers at Bellini Market.
Her grandmother Rosa had taught her Italian before she could properly spell English.
The first phrase Rosa drilled into her whenever customers entered was:
Ascolta prima di parlare.
Listen before you speak.
Emma typed:
ASCOLTAPRIMA
The laptop unlocked.
Hundreds of folders appeared.
Richard leaned closer.
“My God.”
Financial spreadsheets.
Recordings.
Copies of contracts.
Employee files.
Then Emma saw a folder named:
MATTEO.
Luca stopped breathing.
She clicked.
The first file was a death certificate.
Matteo Moretti.
The second was a photograph.
Same year.
A younger Luca stood beside a coffin.
Emma glanced at him.
He looked away.
The third file was dated 2020.
Five years after Matteo’s supposed death.
A man walked through an airport in Zurich.
His face was partly turned away.
But Luca recognized him instantly.
“No.”
Emma enlarged the photograph.
The man was older.
Thinner.
But the eyes—
Luca staggered backward.
“That’s him.”
Richard whispered, “Your brother?”
Luca stared at the screen.
“I buried him.”
Emma opened another photo.
Another.
Then 2023.
The man’s appearance changed gradually.
Hairline.
Nose.
Jaw.
Cosmetic procedures.
The final image was dated eight months earlier.
Emma gasped.
She had seen that face that morning.
Gray hair.
Thin glasses.
Charcoal suit.
Samuel Price.
Luca gripped the table.
“Samuel is Matteo?”
Nobody answered.
The laptop chimed.
A video file automatically opened.
David Reed appeared on screen.
Emma covered her mouth.
Her father sat in what looked like a hotel room.
He seemed exhausted.
“Emma,” the recording began, “if you ever see this, I’m sorry.”
Tears filled her eyes instantly.
“I wanted you to believe I was ordinary. Maybe that was selfish. Ordinary fathers come home. Ordinary fathers don’t leave coded notebooks for their daughters.”
Emma began crying silently.
David continued.
“Luca believes his brother Matteo died in 2015.”
Luca stared.
“He didn’t.”
David looked directly into the camera.
“Matteo Moretti is alive.”
Luca closed his eyes.
“And he is one of the architects of the network we were investigating.”
Emma glanced at him.
His face had become stone.
David continued.
“But Matteo is not the person at the top.”
Richard leaned closer.
“The real architect is someone inside Caldwell Meridian.”
Emma’s heart pounded.
David reached for something off camera.
Then suddenly looked toward the door.
His expression changed.
“I have to go.”
The video shook.
Before it ended, David looked into the camera one final time.
“If Luca finds this, tell him something.”
Luca stepped closer.
David spoke quietly.
“His brother didn’t betray him for money.”
A pause.
“He betrayed him to save his life.”
The video ended.
Silence filled the apartment.
Luca stared at the black screen.
Emma whispered, “What does that mean?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Luca answered without speaking.
A familiar voice came through.
The voice Emma had recognized during the interview.
But now it wasn't filtered.
It was deeper.
More personal.
“Hello, little brother.”
Luca went completely still.
Matteo laughed softly.
“You always were difficult to bury.”
Luca’s hand trembled.
“Where are you?”
“Close.”
“Why?”
“Because David’s daughter finally opened the right door.”
Emma felt cold.
Matteo continued.
“Bring Emma to me tomorrow.”
Luca’s eyes snapped toward her.
“No.”
Matteo sighed.
May you like
“Then you will never learn who actually killed David Reed.”
The line went dead.
