Chapter 4 - THE MAN IN THE UNDERGROUND ROOM
By sunrise, Ramon had made a decision everyone around him hated.
He was going back.
Not alone.
But not with an army either.
“That's how you get buried,” Victor told him.
They stood inside the north house command room while security technicians repaired surveillance feeds and Diego coordinated a wider perimeter.
Ramon placed Gabriel's lighter on the table.
“Whoever delivered this bypassed twenty guards.”
“Which means we have another leak.”
“Probably.”
“And you want to walk into their bunker.”
“I want to find the leak before they know we've found it.”
Victor folded his arms.
“So naturally, step one is entering the murder forest.”
Ramon almost smiled.
“Your optimism remains inspiring.”
“My optimism is why I'm still alive.”
Isabel entered.
Amelia protested from the hallway.
“You should be lying down.”
“I've been lying down for three weeks.”
Isabel held the doorframe for balance.
Lucia followed wearing clean jeans and a sweater borrowed from one of the staff members' daughters.
The girl looked smaller in clean clothes.
More like a child.
Which somehow made everything that had happened to her worse.
Ramon looked at Isabel.
“You're not going.”
“I know how the underground halls connect.”
“No.”
“Ramon—”
“No.”
She stared at him.
“You don't trust me.”
“I trust you to be injured.”
“I remember doors. Corridors. Codes.”
“You also nearly died six hours ago.”
“And your brother risked something to keep my daughter alive.”
Ramon's expression tightened.
“We don't know whether Gabriel wrote that threat willingly.”
“I don't think he did.”
“Why?”
“Because he helped Lucia escape.”
Lucia looked up sharply.
Ramon turned.
“You never told me that.”
Isabel closed her eyes briefly.
“I wasn't sure.”
“About what?”
“Whether Gabriel wanted you to know.”
Ramon stepped closer.
“Start talking.”
Isabel looked at Lucia.
The child answered instead.
“The nice man opened the little door.”
“What nice man?”
“The one with the cane.”
Ramon crouched to her level.
“Gabriel?”
Lucia nodded.
“He told me to run until I found black cars.”
Ramon's blood chilled.
“He knew the convoy.”
“Yes.”
“What else did he say?”
Lucia frowned, concentrating.
“He said the scary man wanted me to find you.”
“Esteban?”
“I don't know his name.”
“What did he look like?”
“White hair. Brown coat. A ring like yours.”
Ramon stood.
Esteban.
Lucia continued.
“The man with the cane said the scary man thought I would bring you there. But he told me not to bring you.”
“Then why did you?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because Mommy was dying.”
Ramon's face softened.
“You did exactly the right thing.”
She wiped her nose.
“The nice man said you'd be angry.”
“He knows me well.”
Lucia almost smiled.
Almost.
Ramon looked at Victor.
“We go through the west ridge.”
Victor nodded reluctantly.
An hour later, Ramon, Victor, Diego, and four additional men reached the clearing by a different route.
No vehicles.
No lights.
No movement.
They scanned the ground.
Then opened the hatch.
The staircase descended farther than Ramon expected.
Concrete walls narrowed around them.
Emergency lamps glowed red along the floor.
Ramon went first.
He counted steps automatically.
Forty-three.
At the bottom was a steel door bearing no markings.
His ring opened that one too.
Victor murmured, “I officially hate your jewelry.”
The door swung inward.
Beyond it stretched a corridor.
White walls.
Industrial lighting.
Security cameras.
Medical carts.
Storage doors.
It did not look like a criminal hideout.
It looked like a private research facility.
Ramon's stomach tightened.
They cleared room after room.
Most were empty.
Beds.
Restraints.
Filing cabinets.
Computers stripped of hard drives.
One room held children's clothing neatly folded into plastic containers.
Diego stared at it.
“What the hell happened here?”
Ramon didn't answer.
He had stopped at a wall.
Dozens of photographs had been pinned there.
Judges.
Police officers.
Business owners.
Politicians.
Union leaders.
Doctors.
Journalists.
Some had red X marks across their faces.
Others had dates.
Victor stepped beside him.
“These are leverage files.”
Ramon's eyes moved across the photographs.
Then stopped.
His own picture hung in the center.
A recent one.
Taken from a distance outside a restaurant.
Beneath it was a handwritten note.
SUBJECT R-2: CONTROL THROUGH LEGACY EVENT.
Victor read it.
“What legacy event?”
Ramon looked toward the deeper corridor.
“Gabriel.”
A sound came from somewhere ahead.
Metal against concrete.
Tap.
Drag.
Tap.
Drag.
A cane.
Ramon raised his weapon.
The others followed.
The sound stopped.
“Gabriel?”
Nothing.
Ramon moved forward.
At the end of the corridor was another door.
Unlocked.
He pushed it open.
A man sat in a chair beneath a single ceiling light.
Older.
Thin.
Bearded.
One leg extended awkwardly.
A wooden cane rested beside him.
Ramon forgot how to breathe.
Seventeen years disappeared.
He saw a twenty-three-year-old Gabriel laughing from the hood of an old car.
Gabriel tossing him boxing gloves.
Gabriel sneaking him out after curfew.
Gabriel promising their mother he'd keep his little brother out of trouble while personally teaching that little brother how to pick a lock.
The man lifted his head.
Dark eyes met Ramon's.
The same eyes.
Older.
Broken in places.
But unmistakable.
“Monito.”
Ramon's pistol lowered.
Victor turned away, granting them something like privacy.
Ramon stepped into the room.
“You're alive.”
Gabriel laughed once.
It became a cough.
“So I've been told.”
Ramon crossed the distance and struck him.
The punch knocked Gabriel sideways.
Every man in the room froze.
Gabriel slowly straightened.
Blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.
He nodded.
“Fair.”
Ramon hit him again.
Then grabbed his coat.
“You let us bury you.”
“I know.”
“Mother died believing you were dead.”
Gabriel's face collapsed.
“I know.”
“She waited for you every day for eleven years.”
“I know.”
Ramon pulled him close.
“Don't say that again.”
Gabriel stared at him.
Then Ramon embraced him.
It wasn't gentle.
It wasn't graceful.
It looked almost like two men trying to hold each other together by force.
Gabriel's shoulders shook.
“So big now,” he whispered.
Ramon closed his eyes.
For a moment, nobody in that underground facility mattered.
Then Gabriel stiffened.
“Why are you here?”
Ramon pulled back.
“You sent the lighter.”
“No.”
Ramon stared at him.
“Your handwriting.”
“Esteban made me write it.”
“The threat?”
“Yes.”
“He wanted me here.”
“He still does.”
“Where is he?”
Gabriel looked toward the hallway.
“Gone.”
“With the files?”
“Some.”
Ramon's eyes hardened.
“What is this place?”
Gabriel looked at Victor and the others.
Then back at Ramon.
“A machine our father built.”
Ramon went still.
Gabriel continued.
“Not Esteban. Not originally.”
“Our father.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“To own people without killing them.”
Gabriel struggled to stand.
Ramon caught his arm.
“Sit.”
“No. We don't have time.”
He leaned heavily on the cane.
“Salvador built networks. Judges caught with prostitutes. Officials taking money. Executives with secret accounts. Police captains beating witnesses. Anyone who could become useful.”
“Blackmail.”
“Insurance,” Gabriel said bitterly. “That's what he called it.”
“And you helped him.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“At first.”
Ramon stepped away.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
The answer hurt more than denial would have.
“Why disappear?”
“I tried to destroy it.”
Gabriel laughed without humor.
“Father found out. Esteban was already managing the operation. They staged my death because killing me would have broken Mother.”
“So they imprisoned you.”
“Not immediately. They gave me a choice.”
Gabriel looked at the photographs.
“Work for them, or watch everyone I cared about become targets.”
“And you chose this.”
“I chose you.”
Ramon's expression changed.
Gabriel reached into his shirt and pulled out a chain.
A tiny brass key hung from it.
“I've spent seventeen years waiting for enough evidence to destroy the system without triggering it.”
“Triggering what?”
Gabriel looked directly at him.
“The dead man's protocol.”
Victor stepped closer.
“What happens?”
“If the central archive is exposed incorrectly, every blackmail file is automatically distributed—to enemies, families, employers, media outlets. Thousands of lives explode at once. Some deserve it. Many don't.”
Ramon understood.
Innocent spouses.
Children.
Witnesses.
Victims used as leverage.
“Esteban controls the protocol?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“No.”
“Who does?”
A beeping sound began in the ceiling.
Gabriel went pale.
“What?”
“He knows you're here.”
Red lights flashed.
A computerized voice sounded through the facility.
SECURITY PURGE INITIATED.
Victor looked around.
“Purge?”
Gabriel grabbed Ramon.
“Run.”
Steel shutters began dropping over the doors.
Diego shouted.
“Move!”
They raced toward the main corridor.
Behind them, a chemical smell filled the air.
Gas.
Victor covered his mouth.
Ramon supported Gabriel as they ran.
Twenty yards from the stairwell, a steel barrier slammed down.
Trapping them.
Gabriel stumbled.
“No.”
Ramon turned toward him.
“Alternative exit.”
“There is one.”
“Where?”
Gabriel pointed toward a door marked ARCHIVE.
Victor shot the lock.
Nothing.
Gabriel pressed his palm against a scanner.
The door opened.
They rushed inside.
The room was colder than the rest.
Rows of servers lined the walls.
At the center stood a table.
A laptop glowed.
Someone had left a live video feed open.
Ramon approached.
The screen showed the north house.
His north house.
Isabel sat beside Lucia in the bedroom.
Unaware she was being watched.
Then Esteban Ortega stepped into frame behind them.
Ramon's blood turned to ice.
Esteban smiled directly at the hidden camera.
May you like
As though he could see Ramon watching.
Then he placed one hand on Lucia's shoulder.
