Chapter 7 - Where His Mother SleepsThe Bellandi estate was surrounded by armed men.
Sarah counted sixteen before Lorenzo told her to stop.
“Why?”
“Because after fifteen, the number becomes emotionally discouraging.”
She lowered the binoculars.
“You’re developing a sense of humor.”
“I blame you.”
They lay on a ridge overlooking the property.
Below them stood an old farmhouse incorporated into a much larger modern estate. Olive trees surrounded a small chapel and cemetery.
Lorenzo stared at the graves.
One belonged to his mother.
Elena Moretti.
He had not visited it in more than twenty years.
He had not known she was there.
Sarah watched him.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
Giovanni had remained at the vineyard, coordinating vehicles and communications.
Sarah and Lorenzo had arrived first, but only barely. Council teams were searching the grounds.
“They don’t know which grave,” Sarah said.
“They will.”
“We have maybe twenty minutes.”
“How do we reach it?”
She pointed toward an irrigation channel.
“Through there.”
The channel was half filled with freezing water.
Lorenzo looked at her dress trousers.
“You’re going to hate this.”
“I already hate this.”
They crawled through mud, crossed beneath a stone wall, and emerged behind the chapel.
Sarah neutralized one guard with a chokehold.
Lorenzo took another.
No gunshots.
They reached the cemetery.
Lorenzo stopped before Elena’s grave.
A small photograph showed a beautiful dark-haired woman.
Sarah stayed back.
Lorenzo touched the stone.
“Hello, Mama.”
His voice broke.
Only slightly.
Sarah looked away, giving him privacy.
Then shouting came from the estate.
They were running out of time.
Lorenzo knelt.
“What did you hide, Papa?”
Sarah examined the grave.
“No fresh excavation.”
“Maybe beneath the stone.”
“Too obvious.”
She read the inscription.
BELOVED WIFE. BELOVED MOTHER. HOME AT LAST.
Home.
Sarah looked toward the farmhouse.
“Lorenzo.”
He followed her gaze.
“Your father wrote ‘where your mother sleeps.’ Maybe he didn’t mean the grave.”
“The house.”
“Her childhood bedroom.”
They ran.
The farmhouse was locked.
Lorenzo broke a window.
Inside, dust covered everything.
Family photographs lined the walls.
Sarah searched upstairs.
Three bedrooms.
One had faded flowers painted along the walls.
Lorenzo entered.
He recognized a photograph from childhood.
His mother had once shown him the same room.
“This is it.”
They searched.
Floorboards.
Wardrobe.
Mattress.
Nothing.
Footsteps approached outside.
Sarah whispered, “Five minutes.”
Lorenzo stared at the wall.
Flowers.
Seven painted lilies.
One was different.
Its center was black.
He pressed it.
A panel opened.
Inside was a cassette tape.
And another key.
Sarah stared.
“Your father loved treasure hunts.”
Lorenzo grabbed both.
Glass shattered downstairs.
Council men entered.
“Time.”
They escaped through the rear window.
Gunfire erupted.
Sarah and Lorenzo sprinted through olive trees while bullets tore bark from trunks.
A vehicle roared ahead.
Giovanni’s Alfa Romeo crashed through a wooden gate.
“Get in!”
They dove inside.
Giovanni accelerated.
A chase began through the Tuscan hills.
Two SUVs followed.
Sarah leaned from the window and fired at tires.
One pursuing SUV spun into a stone wall.
The second remained.
Lorenzo took the wheel while Giovanni reloaded.
“Where are we going?” Sarah shouted.
“Monastery!”
“What monastery?”
“The abandoned one near Villa Carmina!”
“You mean Council headquarters?”
“Exactly!”
Sarah stared at him.
“That is a terrible plan!”
“They won’t expect it!”
“They won’t expect us to drive into a volcano either!”
The SUV rammed them.
Giovanni fired through the rear window.
The pursuing driver ducked.
Lorenzo turned onto a narrow mountain road.
The Alfa barely held the curve.
The SUV did not.
It broke through the barrier and disappeared down the hillside.
Silence.
Sarah sat back.
“I’m driving next time.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You complain.”
“I’m beginning to understand why Marco betrayed you.”
Lorenzo laughed despite himself.
At the abandoned monastery, they found shelter inside an old crypt.
Sarah placed the cassette into an ancient recorder Giovanni found in a storage room.
Static.
Then Vittorio Moretti’s voice.
Lorenzo froze.
He had not heard his father in twenty years.
“Enzo.”
One word.
Lorenzo sat down.
The recording continued.
“If you are hearing this, I failed.”
Vittorio explained the Council.
He explained Elena’s murder.
Then he revealed the real secret.
The Registry was not designed only to expose corruption.
It contained records proving the Council financed terrorist groups, manipulated currency crises, and arranged political assassinations.
But Vittorio had discovered something worse.
“There is an eighth seat.”
Giovanni whispered, “Impossible.”
The tape continued.
“The seven believe they rule together. They do not. One person created the structure so no member could see the whole machine.”
Sarah’s skin prickled.
“Who?”
Vittorio answered.
“I never learned the name. Only the title.”
A pause.
“The Custodian.”
Lorenzo looked at Sarah.
The tape continued.
“The Custodian selects Council members. Removes them. Replaces them. He controls the master accounts.”
Sarah whispered, “So Bellandi isn’t the real boss.”
“No.”
Vittorio explained that the key hidden in Elena’s bedroom opened a vault beneath Villa Carmina.
Inside was the first physical evidence identifying the Custodian.
Lorenzo stared at the key.
“We were just there.”
Giovanni looked terrified.
“If Bellandi learns about the eighth seat…”
“He may already know,” Sarah said.
Then the cassette ended with one final message.
“Enzo, if you choose to destroy them, understand this: power survives exposure. Men will burn papers and replace names. To kill the Council, you must make its members turn against the Custodian. Trust no one, including family.”
The tape clicked off.
Silence.
Sarah slowly looked at Giovanni.
Giovanni stared back.
“Do not.”
“Your brother literally said it.”
“I heard.”
Lorenzo stood.
“Enough.”
He pocketed the key.
“We go beneath Villa Carmina.”
Giovanni shook his head.
“They will have doubled security.”
“Then we don’t enter from the villa.”
Sarah smiled.
“The tunnel.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“The one beneath the chapel.”
She nodded.
Giovanni sighed.
“I preferred you when you were a maid.”
“I didn’t.”
They entered the old smuggler tunnel at sunset.
It twisted beneath the hills.
After nearly a mile, they found a steel door.
The key fit.
Beyond it was a vault.
Inside sat one metal case.
Lorenzo opened it.
Photographs.
Passports.
Financial records.
And a black-and-white photograph of Vittorio standing beside another man.
Sarah picked it up.
The other man’s face was familiar.
She had seen it before.
Recently.
“Lorenzo.”
He looked.
Sarah’s heart began pounding.
The man in the photograph was younger, but unmistakable.
Silver hair would replace black.
Age would deepen the lines.
But the eyes were the same.
She turned toward Giovanni.
Lorenzo followed.
Giovanni had raised a pistol.
Sarah froze.
“No.”
Giovanni’s expression was filled with sadness.
“I am sorry.”
Lorenzo stared at his uncle.
The photograph trembled in his hand.
“You.”
Giovanni shook his head.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“I was never the Custodian.”
He raised the gun higher.
“I worked for him.”
Sarah slowly moved her hand toward her weapon.
“Don’t,” Giovanni warned.
“You came to the vineyard because the Council sent you.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because the Custodian did.”
Lorenzo’s face hardened.
“Who is he?”
Giovanni smiled sadly.
“You’ve met him.”
“When?”
“Many times.”
The tunnel behind them filled with footsteps.
Armed men appeared.
Not Council soldiers.
Different uniforms.
Giovanni lowered his gun.
Sarah understood.
He had never planned to shoot them.
He had been holding them in place.
A man stepped from the darkness.
Tall.
Elegant.
Around seventy.
He removed his gloves.
Lorenzo stared.
For the first time since Sarah had known him, Lorenzo Moretti looked truly shocked.
The stranger smiled.
“Hello, son.”
Sarah turned toward Lorenzo.
Son?
Lorenzo whispered one word.
“Father?”
May you like
Vittorio Moretti smiled.
And the dead man walked into the light.
