Chapter 3 - THE MESSAGE INSIDE THE FALCON
Dante did not touch the memory card for several seconds. He stared at it as though it might
explode, and in a way Émilie understood that it already had. The bracelet had been on Lina’s
wrist since the week she was born. Émilie had bathed her with it, slept beside it, carried
it through grocery stores and pediatric appointments, never imagining that the tiny silver
falcon contained something men might kill to possess.
“Do you have a computer that isn’t connected to the restaurant network?” Dante asked. Rocco
nodded. “A clean laptop in the safe.” “Get it. No Wi-Fi. No cable. Nothing.”
Rocco crossed the office, opened a wall safe behind a painting, and removed a sealed black
case. Dante watched every movement. Trust, Émilie realized, had become a scarce currency in
the room. Five minutes earlier these men had moved around him with the confidence of people
who believed they belonged to one machine. Now each glance carried suspicion.
The laptop booted on battery power. Dante inserted the memory card through an adapter and
turned the screen so Émilie could see. A single folder appeared.
LINA_01. Her knees weakened. “Why her name?” she whispered. “Because Gabriel wanted someone
to understand the file belonged with her,” Dante said. “Or because he knew only someone
close to her would guess the password.”
He opened the folder. There were three video files, one encrypted archive, dozens of
photographs, spreadsheets, bank records, shipping manifests, and audio clips labeled with
dates. The volume of material made Dante’s face tighten. This was not evidence collected in
panic. Gabriel had been building a case for months.
Dante clicked the first video. Gabriel appeared on-screen. Émilie stopped breathing. He was
sitting in what looked like a cheap hotel room. The wallpaper was faded. A lamp cast yellow
light over one side of his face. He looked thinner than she remembered and far more tired.
There was a bruise along his jaw. Yet he was unmistakably alive when the recording had been
made.
“Dante,” Gabriel said to the camera, “if you’re seeing this, then I either failed to come
back or I decided coming back would get people killed.” Dante’s hands flattened on the desk.
Gabriel continued. “Do not trust the report about my death. Do not trust any document signed
within forty-eight hours of the boat fire. I arranged part of the scene, but not all of it.
Someone inside the family anticipated me.”
Émilie felt tears spill down her cheeks. She had heard Gabriel’s voice in dreams so many
times that the real sound almost hurt. On-screen, Gabriel leaned closer. “I discovered
shipments moving through Valenti Logistics under authorization codes assigned to Dante.
Cash, weapons, forged documents, and people. Dante, I know you didn’t approve them. Someone
cloned your internal credentials.”
Dante swore under his breath. Rocco looked stricken. “That system requires biometric
confirmation.” “Not if someone had access to the backup authorization protocol,” Dante
replied.
Gabriel seemed to answer from the screen. “The backup protocol was activated eleven times in
eight months. I thought Vittorio was responsible. I was wrong.”
The video cut abruptly to black. Émilie gripped the back of a chair. “That’s it?” “There are
two more.” The second file would not open. Password required.
Dante typed VALENTI. Rejected. GABRIEL. Rejected. He tried DANTE, MOREAU, PARIS, BASTILLE.
Nothing. Émilie watched the blinking cursor. Gabriel had always hated obvious passwords. He
once teased her for using Lina’s due date on a shopping account, saying anyone who loved you
enough could guess the things you loved. The memory came with such clarity that she nearly
laughed.
“Try Lina.” Dante looked at her. “Just her name.” He typed LINA. The file opened. It was not
another video. It was a dossier. Rows of bank transfers connected shell companies in
Luxembourg, Switzerland, and Malta to warehouses owned by Dante’s firms. Several payments
ended in accounts under aliases Émilie did not recognize. Dante did. His expression darkened
with each page.
“That company belongs to Marcello,” he said, pointing to one line. “Your uncle?” “Yes. My
father’s younger brother.” “I thought he lived in Switzerland.”
“He does. Supposedly.” There were photographs too. Gabriel had shot them from cars,
rooftops, and across streets. In one, Marcello Valenti met with a police official in an
underground garage. In another, Vittorio, Dante’s cousin and logistics chief, handed an
envelope to a customs officer. Then came a series showing a woman in a black coat entering
the same warehouse on three different nights.
Dante froze. Émilie leaned closer. “Who is she?” “My sister.” “Sofia?” He nodded once. The
photograph was clear. Sofia Valenti stood beneath a sodium streetlight, turning toward the
camera as if she had sensed she was being watched. Her expression was unreadable.
“When was this taken?” Dante asked. Rocco enlarged the metadata. “Five days before Gabriel
disappeared.” Dante walked away from the desk. He had spent years believing he understood
every weakness in his family. Vittorio loved money. Marcello loved influence. Sofia loved
control. Gabriel loved escape. Dante himself loved order so much that he had built a kingdom
out of schedules, coded reports, and fear. But he had never imagined all four could be
connected to something operating inside his own companies.
Émilie wiped her face. “Maybe Sofia was helping him.” “Maybe.” “You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’m no longer convinced of anything.” Lina began to fuss. Émilie sat on a sofa near the
window and loosened the carrier. Dante turned away automatically, giving her privacy while
she fed the baby from a prepared bottle. It was such an unexpectedly respectful gesture that
Émilie noticed it despite everything.
On the laptop, Rocco opened a text document. A line appeared in capital letters: IF THE
FALCON OPENS, THEY ARE ALREADY CLOSE. Below it were instructions.
Do not call police. Do not leave through the main entrance. Do not trust the family doctor.
Do not move Lina without changing vehicles twice. Dante read the final instruction aloud.
“If Sofia arrives before you contact her, assume the building is compromised.” At that exact
moment, someone knocked on the office door. Three slow taps.
Rocco drew his weapon. Émilie pulled Lina tight to her chest. Dante’s voice became ice. “Who
is it?” A man outside answered, “Monsieur Valenti. Your sister is downstairs.”
No one in the office moved. Dante looked at the warning on the screen again. “Did anyone
call her?” he asked. Rocco shook his head. Dante’s jaw tightened. “Then how does she know
we’re here?”
Before anyone could answer, Dante’s phone lit up on the desk. A message had arrived from an
unknown number despite the device supposedly being isolated from the network.
It contained a photograph. Émilie in the restaurant dining room, holding Lina against her
chest. The picture had been taken less than twenty minutes earlier.
Under it were four words: GIVE ME THE BRACELET. Émilie felt her blood turn cold. Dante
enlarged the image. The angle came from behind the bar. He looked toward Rocco. “Seal the
service corridors.”
Rocco spoke rapidly into a radio. The reply came seconds later, distorted by static. One of
the restaurant’s regular waiters had been found unconscious in a storage room.
May you like
His uniform was missing. Dante turned back to the photograph. Someone had stood only meters
from Émilie. Someone had watched Lina. And now Sofia Valenti was waiting downstairs.
