Chapter 11 - Vincent hit Nora before the first bullet struck the vault wall.
Not with his fist.
With his entire body.
He drove her downward behind a steel deposit cabinet as gunfire tore through the darkness.
Metal screamed.
Sparks burst.
Nora covered her head.
“Stay down.”
Vincent fired over the cabinet.
The muzzle flash illuminated the vault in violent white fragments.
Grigori had disappeared.
Bennett shouted from the corridor.
“Contact rear stairwell!”
More gunfire answered.
Nora’s lungs refused to work properly.
She forced herself to count.
One.
Two.
Three.
She pressed a hand against the armor beneath her coat.
Alive.
Four.
Vincent fired again.
A man screamed.
Five.
“Can you move?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Follow my belt.”
“What?”
Vincent seized her hand and closed it around the back of his coat.
“Do not release.”
They moved low through the vault.
Nora followed the invisible pressure of Vincent’s body through smoke and darkness.
Someone entered from the corridor.
Vincent fired twice.
The figure fell.
Nora saw only shoes.
They reached the safe-deposit box.
“The contents,” Vincent said.
Nora grabbed everything.
Cassette.
Envelope.
Photograph.
She shoved them beneath her vest.
Bennett appeared at the doorway.
“East exit is blocked.”
“West?”
“Two shooters.”
“Roof?”
“Unknown.”
Vincent looked toward Nora.
“Stay with Bennett.”
“No.”
“Nora.”
A bullet struck the vault frame.
Vincent pushed her sideways.
“Not now.”
Bennett dragged her into the corridor.
They ran.
Nora’s injured ankle immediately protested.
She ignored it.
Behind them, Vincent’s gun continued firing.
The old bank became a maze of dust, marble, and echoes.
Costa soldiers moved between pillars.
Antonov men fired from the mezzanine.
Nora saw one man fall backward through a glass office door.
She kept running.
Bennett pulled her through an employee corridor.
“Vehicle is 40 yd from west exit.”
“Where’s Vincent?”
“Working.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is with him.”
They reached a stairwell.
Bennett opened the door.
A man waited inside.
Nora saw the gun first.
Bennett turned.
Too late.
The shot struck him beneath the shoulder.
He collapsed into Nora.
She screamed.
The gunman moved closer.
Nora fell beneath Bennett’s weight.
The Antonov soldier aimed downward.
Nora’s hand found the emergency beacon attached to her vest.
Useless.
Then she saw Bennett’s pistol on the floor.
Three feet away.
Too far.
The gunman smiled.
“Daniel Hale’s daughter.”
Everyone knew her.
Everyone except her.
Nora kicked.
Her damaged ankle exploded with pain as her heel struck his knee.
The man stumbled.
She reached for Bennett’s pistol.
His boot landed on her forearm.
Pain shot upward.
Nora screamed.
He leaned down.
“Grigori wants you alive.”
“Lucky me.”
She grabbed the fire extinguisher beside the wall with her free hand.
Pulled.
The metal cylinder came loose.
Nora swung it against his shin.
He cursed.
His foot lifted.
Nora seized the pistol.
She fired without thinking.
The first shot struck the wall.
The second entered his chest.
He fell backward against the stair railing.
Nora stared.
Again.
Another man.
Another gun.
Another life changed because her finger moved.
Bennett groaned.
Nora dropped beside him.
“Look at me.”
“I am.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m looking near you.”
Blood spread beneath his shoulder.
Entry wound.
Probably through muscle.
She tore open his shirt.
“No bubbling.”
“What a romantic sentence.”
“Can you stand?”
“Probably.”
“Then do it.”
Bennett looked at the dead gunman.
“You shot him.”
“I noticed.”
“Vincent is going to become unbearable.”
“He already is.”
They reached the west exit.
Two Costa soldiers met them.
One supported Bennett.
Nora looked back.
“Vincent?”
No answer.
Then he appeared from smoke at the far end of the corridor.
He walked fast despite his ribs.
Blood covered his left sleeve.
Not his.
Probably.
Three men followed.
“Go,” he ordered.
They reached the armored car.
Vincent pushed Nora inside.
He entered after her.
The vehicle moved before the door completely closed.
Gunfire struck the rear panel as they accelerated.
Nora sat against the seat.
Her hands shook violently.
Vincent looked at the pistol she still held.
“Give me that.”
She did.
He removed the magazine, checked it, and returned the weapon.
Nora stared.
“What?”
“Keep it.”
“You said no gun.”
“I have revised my opinion.”
“That might be the first recorded instance.”
Vincent ignored her.
His attention moved to Bennett.
“Wound?”
“Clean.”
Nora answered.
“No lung involvement.”
Vincent nodded.
Then looked at her face.
“You fired?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“Hit?”
“One.”
His expression tightened.
Nora knew what he was thinking.
“I’m bothered.”
He waited.
“I’m very bothered.”
Something eased in his face.
“Good.”
The car turned hard.
Nora removed the photograph from beneath her vest.
Vincent took it.
His brother.
Alive at least 11 years after his supposed death.
“What if Grigori lied?” Nora asked.
“The photograph does not.”
“Could be altered.”
“Not with that film.”
Vincent examined the background.
A warehouse.
Stacks of shipping crates.
Nora’s father stood beside Marco.
“You knew my father?”
“No.”
“You’re in the picture.”
Vincent stared.
Then his face changed.
“That isn’t me.”
Nora looked.
“What?”
Vincent pointed.
“The scar.”
The young man in the photograph had Vincent’s face.
Same dark hair.
Same bone structure.
But no scar beneath the chin.
“You didn’t have it yet.”
“I got the scar at 15.”
Nora’s skin prickled.
“Then who is that?”
Vincent looked at Marco.
Then at the nearly identical younger man beside him.
“My brother.”
Nora frowned.
“You said Marco is the other man.”
“No.”
Vincent’s breathing became slow.
“The other man is Marco.”
He pointed to the figure resembling himself.
“The man I thought was Marco…”
Vincent stopped.
Bennett, pale from blood loss, looked over.
“What?”
Vincent turned the photograph.
On the back, beneath the date, another name had been written.
LUCA.
Nora looked at Vincent.
“You had 2 brothers?”
“No.”
He stared.
“My mother had a stillborn son named Luca.”
The cabin became silent.
“Apparently,” Vincent said, “he was not stillborn.”
Nora leaned back.
The Costa family history was beginning to resemble a collection of graves containing the wrong bodies.
Vincent opened the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
A list of names.
Nora recognized Daniel Hale.
Marco Costa.
Luca Costa.
Several others.
At the bottom appeared one more.
VINCENT COSTA.
Beside each name was a status.
Daniel Hale — ACTIVE.
Marco Costa — ACTIVE.
Luca Costa — ACTIVE.
Vincent Costa — REPLACEMENT.
Nora felt cold.
“What does replacement mean?”
Vincent did not answer.
A second line appeared beneath his name.
PHASE II SUCCESSFUL.
Bennett stared.
“Boss?”
Vincent turned the page over.
Blank.
Nora removed the cassette.
“We need to hear this.”
The monastery still contained an old cassette recorder because, according to Martha, Vincent never threw away anything that might someday become evidence.
Nora almost commented on the hypocrisy.
She did not.
They reached the safe house after midnight.
Elena slept under medication in a secured room.
Bennett was treated.
The surviving Costa soldiers spread through the building.
Vincent and Nora entered the library.
The cassette recorder sat on the table between them.
Nora inserted the tape.
Her hand trembled.
Vincent pressed PLAY.
Static.
A click.
Then a man’s voice.
Nora stopped breathing.
She did not consciously remember her father’s voice.
But her body did.
Every muscle recognized it before her mind could.
“If you are hearing this, then Northstar has been opened.”
Nora covered her mouth.
Vincent remained still.
“Vincent Costa may be with you.”
Vincent’s eyes sharpened.
“If he is, do not trust what he remembers about his childhood.”
Static interrupted.
Then Daniel Hale continued.
“His memories were constructed.”
Nora looked at Vincent.
He did not move.
“The man called Salvatore Costa ran a program for Alessio Costa beginning in 1979.”
Vincent’s uncle.
His father.
“They used orphaned children, undocumented children, and children born into families controlled by debt.”
Nora felt nauseated.
“The purpose was loyalty conditioning.”
Vincent’s face became pale.
“Children were isolated, renamed, punished, and trained. Some were placed into Costa households.”
Static.
“Vincent…”
The recording distorted.
“If you are listening, Alessio Costa was not your biological father.”
Nora closed her eyes.
Vincent did not react.
Not visibly.
The tape continued.
“You were selected because you resembled his dead infant son.”
The room became impossible to breathe inside.
Nora looked toward him.
Vincent stared at the recorder.
“He needed an heir he could control.”
Daniel’s voice became weaker.
“I discovered the records because Alessio paid through Northstar.”
Paper moved near the microphone.
“There were 9 children in the original program.”
Nora thought of Marco.
Luca.
Vincent.
“Some survived.”
The cassette hissed.
“Some became Costa soldiers.”
Then Daniel Hale said the sentence that destroyed what remained of Vincent’s certainty.
“Vincent Costa was born under the name Elias Hale.”
Nora stopped breathing.
Hale.
Her surname before her mother changed it.
Vincent looked at her.
Neither spoke.
The tape continued.
“He is my son.”
The recorder clicked.
Static filled the library.
Nora stared at Vincent.
Her father’s son.
Her—
“No,” she whispered.
Vincent’s face had become completely expressionless.
Nora stood so quickly the chair fell backward.
“No.”
The tape continued beneath the static.
Then Daniel’s voice returned faintly.
“And Nora…”
She froze.
“If you are listening beside him, understand this carefully.”
Nora could hear her heartbeat.
“Vincent Costa is not your brother.”
Both of them stopped.
Daniel exhaled into the microphone.
“Elias Hale was the name I gave him to hide him. He was not my biological child.”
Nora closed her eyes.
The emotional violence of the previous 10 seconds nearly made her laugh.
Vincent reached over and stopped the tape.
Silence.
Nora stared at him.
“What the hell was that?”
Vincent remained seated.
“I do not know.”
“You were my brother for 8 seconds.”
“I found the experience unpleasant.”
Despite everything, Nora laughed.
It came out broken.
Then she covered her face.
Vincent lowered his head.
For the first time, his shoulders looked heavy.
Not powerful.
Heavy.
Nora stopped laughing.
“You okay?”
“No.”
The answer surprised her.
She sat again.
Vincent looked at the cassette.
“My entire childhood may be fabricated.”
Nora spoke quietly.
“You remembered Marco.”
“I remember him drowning.”
“But he didn’t.”
“Apparently.”
“You remembered your father.”
“He may not be my father.”
“You remembered your mother.”
Vincent became silent.
Nora understood.
If Alessio Costa had placed him inside the family, had the woman Vincent called his mother known?
“Did she love you?” Nora asked.
Vincent looked at her.
“What?”
“Your mother.”
He frowned.
“Did she love you?”
“Yes.”
“Then start there.”
His eyes remained on her.
Nora touched the cassette.
“We verify everything else.”
Vincent breathed slowly.
“You make uncertainty sound easy.”
“It isn’t.”
She looked at the blue tea tin.
“It just beats believing the first lie someone gives you.”
The library door opened.
Martha entered.
Her face was white.
“Mr. Costa.”
Vincent turned.
“What?”
“Your sister is gone.”
He stood instantly.
“What do you mean gone?”
“The guard outside her room is dead.”
Nora felt adrenaline flood her body again.
Martha swallowed.
“And there is a message on the wall.”
They ran.
Elena’s room stood open.
A Costa soldier lay in the corridor.
Blood covered the stone.
Inside, the hospital bed was empty.
On the white wall above it, someone had written 4 words in dark red.
BRING NORA TO SALVATORE.
Vincent stared.
Nora felt the entire room turn toward her.
May you like
The war had finally stopped hiding its destination.
It wanted her.
