Chapter 6 - The Don’s TermsThe heavy silence of the vault was broken by the distant, muffled sound of a car door slamming on the street above. Julian’s head snapped toward the ceiling, his grip on the pistol tightening. The raw panic on his face was a confirmation of everything Edward had calculated.
“They’re here,” Julian whispered, his voice losing all its aggressive edge, replaced by the hollow fear of a cornered animal. “Sterling’s people. They followed me from the train station in Back Bay. They don't want the ledger, Edward. They want me dead so the secret stays buried forever.”
Edward reached out his right hand, his palm open, his long fingers perfectly steady. “Give me the gun, Julian. And give me the ledger.”
“Why should I trust you?” Julian spat, though his arm was beginning to lower from exhaustion. “You’re the Don of Back Bay. You don't have a heart. Everyone knows you’re made of ice.”
“I am a Drummond,” Edward said, his voice ringing against the ancient granite walls like a bronze bell. “And whatever my father did to your mother, I do not allow corporate politicians to clean their boots with our blood line. If you want to survive the night, you play by my rules. Give me the ledger.”
With a slow, agonizing hesitation, Julian lowered the weapon. He placed the heavy black pistol into Edward’s open palm, followed by the cold, damp red leather book.
Edward didn't look at the book. He shoved it into the deep inner pocket of his cashmere coat, then turned toward the wooden stairs. “Vance!” he called out into the darkness.
The shadow of his chief of security appeared at the top of the stairs instantly, a suppressed tactical rifle held low against his chest. “Sir.”
“Take Julian to the safe house in New Hampshire. Use the service tunnels that connect to the old stable house on Beacon Street. If any vehicle follows you past the city line, neutralize the threat under corporate emergency protocols.”
“Understood, Mr. Drummond,” Vance said, stepping down to grab Julian by the shoulder. The young man didn't resist. He looked at Edward one last time, a mixture of hatred and desperate relief in his brown eyes, before he was guided out into the dark brick corridor that led to the city’s forgotten underground pathways.
Edward stood alone in the vault for a moment, the heavy flashlight beam resting on his own leather shoes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number that wasn't registered in any public directory.
“Marcus,” Edward said when the call connected on the first ring. Marcus Sterling, the CEO of Vanguard Development and the estranged cousin of the state senator, was a man who owed Edward three massive land concessions in the western valley. “Your cousin Thomas has crossed the line into my private residence. He is looking for a ledger from 1989 that currently rests in my inner pocket.”
A heavy sigh came over the line from the other side of the city. “Thomas is an idiot, Edward. I told him to leave the shipping yards alone. What do you want me to do?”
May you like
“I want you to pull the financial backing for his senate reelection campaign by 9:00 AM tomorrow,” Edward said, his voice as sharp as a diamond blade. “I want his real estate shell companies frozen by the state banking commission. And Marcus? If he calls you begging for a lifeline, tell him the Don of Back Bay has just adopted a son.”
Edward hung up without waiting for a response. He walked up the wooden stairs, shutting the heavy basement door behind him, and stepped back into the grand, silent foyer where the machinery of his new life was waiting.
