Chapter 5 - The Daughter He Never Knew

Thomas lunged.

Gabriel stepped back.

Two men appeared from opposite ends of the corridor.

Thomas stopped.

Gabriel lowered the phone.

“Good.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Language.”

“You kidnapped them.”

“I recovered two people who have spent twelve years stealing from me.”

“Sophie is eleven.”

“She isn't part of this.”

“You just put a gun next to her mother.”

Gabriel's jaw tightened.

“Then don't make this complicated.”

Thomas held up Pierre's letter.

“What are you looking for?”

Gabriel glanced at it.

“A file.”

“What file?”

“Your father knew.”

“My father is dead.”

“Yes.”

The answer came without emotion.

Something inside Thomas sharpened.

“How did he die, Gabriel?”

Madeleine whispered, “Thomas.”

Pierre had died after his car went off a wet road three years earlier.

The police called it an accident.

Gabriel had been the first person at the hospital.

The first to hug Thomas.

The first to tell him there was nothing anyone could have done.

Thomas stared at him.

“How did my father die?”

Gabriel's face didn't change.

“Don't invent another tragedy.”

“That wasn't an answer.”

Gabriel put his phone away.

“Bring me the complete Serrat archive by eight tonight.”

“I don't have it.”

“Pierre gave part of it to you.”

“I didn't know this existed twenty minutes ago.”

“That may be true.”

Gabriel nodded at the red unit.

“But Pierre rarely trusted people with information. He trusted them with objects.”

Thomas frowned.

Gabriel continued.

“A watch. A key. A photograph. A piece of furniture. Anything ordinary enough to survive after the owner stopped asking questions.”

Thomas thought about his father.

About the watches he'd inherited.

The old camera.

A desk.

Boxes of useless keepsakes.

“You'll need to figure out which one,” Gabriel said.

“And if I don't?”

Gabriel looked at him calmly.

“You saw the video.”

Thomas stepped forward.

“If you hurt them—”

“You'll what?”

For the first time, Gabriel smiled.

“Spend another twelve years searching?”

Thomas wanted to break his face.

Instead, he picked up the backpack.

Gabriel raised one hand.

“Leave the laptop.”

Thomas froze.

“Why?”

“Because that belongs to me.”

“You said you wanted a file.”

“The laptop contains part of it.”

Thomas looked down.

Then at Gabriel.

“If it's already here, why do you need me?”

“Because Pierre encrypted it.”

Gabriel's smile disappeared.

“And you're part of the password.”

Thomas looked at Madeleine.

She seemed as confused as he was.

Gabriel's men moved closer.

Thomas slowly removed the laptop from the backpack.

He set it on the bench.

Gabriel nodded.

“Smart.”

Then Thomas pulled the fire alarm.

The corridor exploded with noise.

Red lights flashed.

Passengers shouted.

Sprinklers released overhead.

Thomas grabbed Madeleine and ran.

One of Gabriel's men lunged.

Thomas slammed the locker door into his face.

The second man grabbed Thomas's coat.

Madeleine swung her handbag with both hands.

It hit the man directly in the nose.

He stumbled.

Thomas looked at his mother.

She blinked.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

They ran.

By the time they reached the main concourse, hundreds of people were moving toward the exits.

Thomas blended into the crowd.

He looked back once.

Gabriel stood beneath the flashing alarm lights.

Watching him.

Not chasing.

That scared Thomas more.

Outside, they ducked into a taxi.

Thomas gave the driver Sarah Cole's address.

Madeleine looked at him.

“What now?”

“We find Dad's part of the archive.”

“You heard Gabriel. It could be anywhere.”

Thomas pulled Sophie's passport from the backpack.

Behind it was a folded photograph he hadn't noticed earlier.

He opened it.

Pierre stood beside Sophie.

She looked about eight years old.

Both were smiling.

Thomas felt rage climb his throat.

On the back, Pierre had written:

She has Thomas's stubbornness.

And beneath it:

If anything happens to me, ask Sophie about the music box.

Thomas read the sentence again.

“The music box.”

Madeleine gasped.

“I know what he meant.”

Thomas looked at her.

“What?”

She stared at the photograph.

“Three days before your father died, he mailed a package.”

“To who?”

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Madeleine's face tightened.

“To Émilie.”