Chapter 9 - PIER NINE
Robert had been told his entire life that his father died at home.
Not on a pier.
Not near the ocean.
Not anywhere close to Newport.
Graham Pike explained the lie on the drive north.
“Edward collapsed aboard Thomas’s boat.”
Robert stared through the armored SUV window.
“Then why does his death certificate list Greenwich?”
“They moved him.”
Elizabeth whispered, “Who?”
“Thomas and the private nurse.”
Robert turned sharply.
“You knew this?”
“I learned it years later.”
“And said nothing.”
Graham’s face tightened.
“I already admitted what I was.”
“A coward.”
“Yes.”
Sam sat beside Elizabeth.
He had hardly spoken since they left the hospital.
Federal agents planned the operation around Pier Nine.
Robert would carry a replica ledger.
The real one was already secured with investigators.
A tracking device was hidden in the fake binding.
Police snipers covered the marina.
Nathan Cole, reunited with Emily but furious beyond words, insisted on joining.
At 7:55 p.m., Robert approached Pier Nine alone.
Fog rolled across the harbor.
Yachts rocked silently.
At the far end of the pier, Thomas Ellington stood beneath a lamp.
Seventy-four years old.
Gray wool coat.
Silver hair.
Walking cane.
He looked like the man who had taken Robert to baseball games.
The man who mailed birthday cards in blue envelopes.
The man who had once carried twelve-year-old Robert home after he broke his ankle climbing a tree.
Robert hated him for looking so familiar.
“Where are Maria and Julian?”
Thomas glanced at the ledger beneath Robert’s arm.
“Where is my book?”
“Your book?”
“I created those accounts.”
“With foundation money.”
“You say that as though foundations exist in some holy world separate from power.”
“They existed to help people.”
“They existed because your grandfather needed tax relief and social approval.”
Robert almost laughed.
“And that makes theft noble?”
Thomas’s expression hardened.
“Do not lecture me about the morality of inherited money.”
“What did my father think?”
For the first time, Thomas looked away.
Robert continued.
“He found out.”
“Yes.”
“You killed him.”
Thomas stared toward the black water.
“Edward was weak.”
Robert’s breath caught.
“He was going to destroy everything.”
“So you poisoned him.”
“I helped him avoid a scandal.”
“You murdered your brother.”
Thomas turned.
“He would have destroyed the company, the foundation, and both our families over accounting irregularities.”
“Twenty-six million dollars?”
“It was supposed to be temporary.”
Robert stepped closer.
“My father died because he refused to cover for you.”
Thomas smiled sadly.
“Your father died because he never understood that principles are expensive.”
Robert’s hidden microphone carried every word to law enforcement.
“Elizabeth’s accident?”
“That was Julian.”
“You ordered it.”
“I told him to solve the problem.”
Robert’s fists tightened.
“And Nora Bell?”
Thomas’s face barely changed.
“Also Julian.”
“You knew she had a son.”
“Everyone has somebody.”
That sentence erased the final trace of family in Robert’s heart.
“Where is Maria?”
Thomas nodded toward the yacht.
“Below.”
“And Julian?”
“Also below.”
“Alive?”
“For the moment.”
“Release them.”
“The ledger first.”
Robert held it out.
Thomas stepped forward.
At that moment, a phone rang somewhere beneath the pier.
Not Robert’s.
Thomas frowned.
A federal agent had accidentally triggered something.
Thomas’s eyes lifted.
He understood.
“You brought police.”
Robert dropped the ledger.
Thomas swung his cane.
The bottom section broke away.
A pistol emerged.
He fired.
Robert dove behind a piling.
Agents shouted.
“Federal agents! Drop the weapon!”
Thomas fired toward them and ran for the yacht.
Robert followed.
“Thomas!”
The older man boarded.
Robert jumped onto the deck.
The yacht engine roared.
Someone inside had started it.
The vessel pulled from the pier.
Gunshots cracked behind them.
Robert lost his balance and struck the railing.
Thomas disappeared below.
Robert raced after him.
“Maria!”
A muffled cry answered.
He opened one cabin.
Empty.
Second cabin.
Locked.
Robert kicked it once.
Twice.
The door broke.
Maria sat tied to a chair.
Her face was bruised.
“Mr. Ellington!”
He cut her restraints using a broken piece of metal.
“Where’s Julian?”
“Engine room.”
“Who started the boat?”
“A man Thomas hired.”
“Can you get to the deck?”
“Yes.”
“Go.”
Robert moved deeper into the vessel.
Behind him, a collision shook the yacht.
Federal patrol craft approached.
Thomas’s escape route was closing.
Robert reached the engine compartment.
Julian Mercer lay chained to a steel pipe.
Blood covered one side of his face.
He looked up.
“Robert.”
Robert stared.
“You look terrible.”
Julian laughed weakly.
“I deserve worse.”
“Probably.”
Robert looked at the chain.
“Where’s the key?”
“Thomas.”
Robert searched for something to break it.
Julian caught his sleeve.
“Leave me.”
“No.”
“You should.”
“I’m not letting Thomas decide who lives.”
Julian looked at him.
For the first time in seventeen years, Robert saw no arrogance.
Only exhaustion.
“I killed Nora.”
Robert stopped.
Julian swallowed.
“I put the pills in her apartment.”
Robert’s stomach turned.
“She trusted you?”
“No.”
“You murdered Sam’s mother.”
“Yes.”
Robert wanted to leave him there.
Wanted the yacht to sink.
Wanted justice to become simple.
Then he remembered Sam.
Bad people win when everybody gets scared.
Robert grabbed a steel wrench.
He struck the chain lock.
Again.
Again.
On the fourth blow, it broke.
Julian collapsed forward.
“Why confess now?”
“Because Thomas is going to kill us anyway.”
“Not if I can help it.”
Julian caught Robert’s arm.
“There’s a bomb.”
Robert froze.
“What?”
“Thomas wired the fuel compartment.”
“When?”
“Before you arrived.”
Robert stared toward the engine.
“How long?”
Julian looked at a digital timer mounted beneath a panel.
Four minutes.
Thirty-eight seconds.
Robert’s blood went cold.
“Can you disable it?”
“No.”
“Can anyone?”
“Maybe the captain.”
“Where is he?”
“Thomas shot him.”
Robert cursed.
He pulled Julian upright.
“We leave.”
They staggered into the corridor.
Maria was gone.
Good.
Robert called Nathan.
“Bomb!”
Static answered.
The vessel had moved far enough that the signal was weak.
“Bomb!” he shouted again.
Thomas appeared at the top of the stairs.
Gun in hand.
“You should have left him.”
Robert shoved Julian behind cover.
Thomas fired.
A bullet struck the wall beside Robert.
“You murdered my father!”
Thomas fired again.
“I saved what he built!”
Robert moved toward him.
“You destroyed it!”
Another shot.
Click.
Empty.
Thomas stared at the gun.
Robert charged.
They collided on the stairs.
Thomas was old but stronger than Robert expected.
His cane struck Robert’s shoulder.
Robert grabbed him.
They crashed onto the deck.
Patrol boats surrounded the yacht.
Agents shouted through loudspeakers.
Thomas clawed toward the railing.
“You think this ends with me?”
“It ends enough.”
“You’re a fool like your father.”
Robert pinned him.
“And I’m proud of it.”
A federal officer boarded.
“Hands!”
Thomas was dragged away.
Robert looked toward the cabin.
“Julian!”
Julian staggered onto deck.
“Timer!”
Two minutes.
Agents began evacuation.
Maria was transferred to a patrol boat.
Julian followed.
Robert jumped toward the boarding ladder.
Then stopped.
“Where’s Thomas?”
An officer looked around.
Thomas was gone.
During the confusion, he had slipped his restraints.
Robert turned.
The old man stood near the stern.
He held the fake Red Ledger.
“You want your legacy?” Thomas shouted.
Then he threw himself overboard.
“Thomas!”
Robert ran to the railing.
Nothing but black water.
An agent grabbed him.
“Move!”
The timer reached forty seconds.
Robert jumped onto the patrol boat.
Engines roared.
They pulled away.
Twenty seconds.
Ten.
Then the yacht exploded.
Fire ripped into the night sky.
The blast threw Robert across the deck.
For several seconds, all he heard was ringing.
Then Sam’s face filled his mind.
Elizabeth.
Home.
Robert pushed himself upright.
“Thomas?”
Agents scanned the water.
No body.
No movement.
Nothing.
Nathan stared into the flames.
“He’s gone.”
Robert wanted to believe him.
But two hours later, as they returned to Ellington House, Sam was standing at the library window.
Robert entered.
“We got Maria back.”
Sam turned.
“Is Thomas dead?”
“We don’t know.”
The boy looked outside.
“Then who is that?”
Robert followed his gaze.
At the edge of the garden, beneath the same cedar tree where Robert had first found Sam unconscious, stood a man in a soaked gray coat.
Thomas Ellington.
May you like
Alive.
And he was holding a gun.
