Chapter 4 - The Student Who Learned the Wrong Lesson
"That's impossible."
I had to sit down.
My mother remained by the door, holding the empty envelope.
"Victoria Lane was Dad's student?"
"Not in the way you were."
"Then how?"
My mother sat across from me.
For several seconds, she looked at her hands.
"I need you to understand something about your father. He wasn't just a good fighter. He was a good teacher. People came to him because he could show them how to stop an attack without becoming the attacker."
"I know."
"Some people came for the wrong reasons."
I thought about Victoria's jeweled heel swinging toward my shin.
"And Victoria was one of them?"
My mother nodded.
"She was seventeen when Miguel first met her. Her father brought her to a private training session at a gym in Queens."
"Why would Victor Lane take his daughter to Dad?"
"Because Victor wanted something from him."
"What?"
"The complete Quiet Current method."
I frowned.
"Dad said it was a family discipline."
"It was. But he learned part of it from Arturo, and Arturo learned it from men who believed certain movements should never be used to injure people unnecessarily."
"That sounds like Dad."
"Victor didn't see it that way."
She paused.
"He was interested in using the training to prepare security teams. He thought a system built around timing and control could give his people an advantage."
"Did Dad agree?"
"No."
"Then why train Victoria?"
My mother sighed.
"Because she told him she was afraid."
That surprised me.
"Of what?"
"Her father. Or at least that's what she claimed."
I remembered Victoria standing in the ballroom, screaming at a woman who couldn't afford to lose her job.
"Did he believe her?"
"At first."
My mother looked toward the window.
"Your father had a terrible weakness. He believed people who asked for help usually meant it."
"What happened?"
"Victoria learned quickly. Too quickly, Miguel used to say. She could remember every movement after seeing it once. But she kept changing the purpose."
"Changing how?"
"He would teach her to redirect force. She wanted to know how to break a joint. He would teach her to regain balance. She wanted to know how to throw someone onto a hard surface."
I felt nauseated.
"He stopped teaching her?"
"Yes. After three months."
"Was she angry?"
My mother gave a humorless smile.
"She told him he'd regret humiliating her."
I looked down at the photograph.
"If Dad taught Victoria, why didn't she recognize what I did tonight?"
"She recognized it."
I looked up.
My mother spoke carefully.
"Think about what happened. She kicked you. You caught her ankle. And she froze."
I remembered.
Not surprise.
Fear.
Victoria had gone completely still.
My mother continued.
"She knew exactly what you were capable of."
"Then why attack me?"
"Maybe she wanted everyone else to see."
The thought made my stomach twist.
The spilled champagne.
The insults.
The shove.
The kick.
Victoria had pushed until I reacted.
She hadn't been trying to knock me down.
She had been trying to make me reveal myself.
I looked at the photograph again.
"Then what does 'trust the second student' mean?"
My mother shook her head.
"I've wondered for six years."
"Did Dad write it before he died?"
"Two days before."
My fingers tightened around the paper.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought it was a warning. I didn't know whether the second student was someone he trusted or someone he wanted us to recognize."
"But he wrote 'trust.'"
"I know."
A knock interrupted us.
"Miss Reyes?"
Daniel's voice.
I stood.
"What is it?"
"Detective Hall is downstairs."
I opened the door.
Daniel stood beside the hallway elevator.
He looked unusually serious.
"She says it's urgent."
My mother followed me downstairs.
Detective Hall waited in a small conference room with a laptop and two paper folders.
Alexander stood near the far wall.
Arturo sat beside him.
The old man looked as though he hadn't slept.
Hall greeted us.
"I'm sorry to bring you down at this hour."
"What's happened?" I asked.
"We identified the man who broke into your apartment."
She turned the laptop toward me.
A driver's license photograph filled the screen.
"His name is Colin Voss. He has prior arrests for assault, intimidation, and unlawful possession of a weapon."
"Who does he work for?"
"That's what we're investigating."
Alexander spoke.
"He's connected to Lane International."
Hall gave him a sharp look.
"Mr. Ashford, we haven't established that in evidence yet."
"His brother works for Victor Lane's transportation division."
"That gives us a lead, not proof."
I appreciated her correction.
After an evening of men speaking as though their suspicions were facts, it was a relief to hear someone insist on the difference.
Hall opened the first folder.
"We also recovered surveillance footage from a shop across the street. There were three men involved, not two."
She turned the laptop.
The image showed our apartment building at 12:47 a.m.
Two men stood beside the SUV.
A third approached the entrance.
He wore a dark cap and carried a small case.
I leaned closer.
Something about his walk bothered me.
The slight turn of his left foot.
The way his shoulders stayed relaxed.
Then he looked toward the camera.
Only for an instant.
But I recognized him.
"Stop."
Hall paused the footage.
I moved closer.
"That's him."
"Who?"
I turned to Alexander.
"The man who kept watching me at the hotel."
He frowned.
"Where?"
"Near the service hallway. I saw him twice tonight. He was wearing a catering jacket."
Daniel stepped forward.
"Can we enlarge it?"
Hall adjusted the image.
The man's face remained partly hidden.
Arturo rose slowly from his chair.
His cane struck the floor.
Once.
Twice.
Then he whispered, "God help us."
Alexander looked at him.
"What?"
Arturo pointed at the screen.
"That man trained with Miguel."
My skin prickled.
"Another student?"
Arturo nodded.
"But he wasn't the second student."
"Who was he?"
"His name is Gabriel Sloane."
Alexander's expression hardened.
"I know that name."
Detective Hall looked from one man to the other.
"Would someone like to explain?"
Alexander spoke first.
"Gabriel Sloane worked for my father."
"Doing what?"
"Security."
"When?"
"Before my father died."
Arturo gripped his cane.
"He disappeared after Miguel's murder."
I stared at the screen.
"Then he came back for us."
Hall studied the photograph.
"We'll put out an alert."
Alexander stepped toward the laptop.
"I want every camera in my hotels checked."
"Send the footage through proper channels," Hall said. "Don't have anyone alter or erase the originals."
He nodded.
I looked down at the note in my hand.
Trust the second student.
One person had taught Victoria enough to become dangerous.
Another had been outside my apartment tonight.
And my father had left behind a message about someone else entirely.
"Mr. Santos," I said.
He turned.
"Who was the second student?"
His eyes filled with sorrow.
"I made Miguel promise I would never tell you."
"He's dead."
Arturo flinched.
"My father is dead," I repeated. "Someone tried to break into my home, and you're still keeping promises that protect the people who did this."
He looked at my mother.
Then at Alexander.
Finally, he reached into his inside jacket pocket.
He took out a narrow leather bracelet.
Dark brown.
Old.
Marked with three tiny lines.
My father had worn one exactly like it.
Arturo placed it on the table.
"Miguel gave this to the second student."
I stared at it.
"Who?"
Arturo whispered, "Alexander."
I turned.
Alexander was looking at the bracelet as though it belonged to a dead man.
"He trained you?" I asked.
Alexander nodded.
"Long before the subway attack."
"And he saved your life anyway?"
"Yes."
"Then why did he tell me his discipline was only for defending people?"
May you like
Alexander raised his eyes.
"Because I was the student who almost used it to kill someone."
