Chapter 4 - My Uncle’s Name on the Tape
Matteo Moretti was sixty-four, silver-haired, charming, Catholic when convenient, generous in public, and dangerous in private. He taught me how to drive a boat at twelve, how to read a balance sheet at sixteen, and how to tell when a man was bluffing by watching his left hand. After my father’s fatal heart attack, Matteo became the senior man in our family. After Gabriel died, he became something closer to a second father. Hearing my brother accuse him from a six-year-old recording felt like learning the floor had always been painted over water.
“Could Gabriel have been wrong?” Claire asked.
“Yes.”
Daniel said nothing.
“You don’t agree.”
“I think we verify.”
Good answer.
The drives contained transactions routed through offshore entities, surveillance payments, and internal Moretti shipping data. One vendor code appeared repeatedly: M-17. Thomas Bellamy’s notes suggested M-17 was an internal Moretti source. No full name.
We needed more.
I returned to the estate before dawn and called Matteo for breakfast.
He arrived at 7:30 carrying espresso and acting offended by the hour.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“Business?”
“Gabriel.”
His face changed slightly.
“What about him?”
“I found some old records.”
“What records?”
“Shipping leaks before his death.”
Matteo poured coffee.
“Adrian, you spent years on this.”
“I know.”
“Police found nothing.”
“I know.”
“Do not let grief become religion.”
That sounded wise.
Maybe too rehearsed.
I watched his left hand.
Still.
My uncle had taught me well.
“What do you know about Victor Kane?”
“Scum.”
“Business with him?”
“Never directly.”
“North Star Integrated?”
He paused half a second.
“Security company?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe years ago. Why?”
“Victor had old access.”
“To what?”
“Our estate.”
Matteo’s hand tightened around the cup.
Tiny.
There.
“Claire Bennett was drugged last night.”
“Who?”
“Housemaid.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because her real name is Bellamy.”
Coffee stopped halfway to his mouth.
That reaction mattered.
“You know Thomas had a daughter?”
“Everyone has children.”
“You knew?”
“I may have.”
“Did you know she worked here?”
“No.”
I believed that.
Then I said, “Gabriel left tapes.”
Matteo stood.
Not dramatically.
Instinctively.
“You should turn anything like that over to police.”
“Eventually.”
“Adrian.”
“What?”
“If Victor is involved, you don’t know how far this goes.”
“Apparently Gabriel thought you did.”
Silence.
I had chosen aggression.
Maybe mistake.
Matteo’s face closed.
“What exactly did he say?”
“I didn’t say he named you.”
“You implied it.”
His left hand remained still now.
Controlled.
“I’m going to ask once. Did you give Victor our routes?”
“No.”
“Did you meet him?”
“Yes.”
There it was.
“When?”
“Several times over fifteen years.”
“You said never directly.”
“I said never business.”
“What then?”
Matteo sat slowly.
“Gabriel.”
“What?”
“Victor claimed he had proof Gabriel was stealing from Moretti.”
I laughed.
“Gabriel?”
“Yes.”
“Impossible.”
“I thought so.”
“What proof?”
“Payments to Gabriel-controlled accounts.”
“Fake?”
“I later believed so.”
“Why meet Victor secretly?”
“Because I didn’t want your father to know we were looking at Gabriel.”
My father had still been alive then.
“What happened?”
“Gabriel discovered I was talking to Victor. He assumed I was the leak.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Matteo looked toward the window.
“I never proved it.”
“Who did you suspect?”
He hesitated.
“Your father.”
I stared.
My father, Dominic Moretti, died seven years ago of a heart attack.
“What are you talking about?”
“Dominic had cash problems.”
“My father had hundreds of millions.”
“Corporate wealth is not cash.”
“Why would he sell routes?”
“Gambling debts.”
I almost laughed.
“My father did not gamble.”
Matteo looked sad.
“You were a son.”
That sentence cut.
He told me Dominic had secretly lost nearly $18 million over three years through high-stakes betting and private card rooms. Victor learned. He offered to “solve” the debt in exchange for selective route information. Matteo discovered pieces only after Dominic’s death.
“Proof?”
“Not here.”
“Where?”
“Safe deposit box downtown.”
“Why hide it?”
“Because your father’s reputation held the company together after he died. Exposing him would have hurt you and Gabriel.”
“Gabriel knew?”
“Partially.”
“Then why accuse you?”
“Because he found my meetings with Victor before he found Dominic’s debts.”
“Did Gabriel discover the truth before he died?”
“I don’t know.”
I did not trust any answer yet.
We retrieved Matteo’s files under supervision. They contained bank statements. Dominic did have gambling debts. Transfers from shell companies tied to Kane paid several creditors. But no proof Dominic gave shipping routes.
Then Daniel found a detail.
One shell company transferred money after Dominic died.
Someone continued the arrangement.
M-17 might not be Dominic.
Matteo looked genuinely shaken.
“If this kept going, someone else took over.”
“Who had access?”
“Me, Gabriel, you, CFO Paul Renner, operations chief Simon Vale.”
Vale.
Cassandra? Different story. Here Simon Vale unrelated. Better maybe Simon Voss. Let's use Simon Voss.
Simon Voss had served Moretti for twenty-two years. Quiet. Competent. Loyal.
He also approved the acquisition of North Star Integrated Systems.
The same security company containing Victor’s backdoor.
Daniel and I looked at each other.
Too neat.
We audited Simon.
His finances were clean.
Then not.
A trust in his wife’s maiden name owned property in Wisconsin worth $4.8 million.
Purchased through a loan from a Victor-linked bank.
Simon claimed inheritance.
False.
We placed him under surveillance.
The next evening, he drove not home but to a private marina.
Victor Kane was waiting.
We watched from a distance.
Daniel whispered, “We need recording.”
We got one through legal investigators.
Simon said, “Claire is inside Adrian’s wing now.”
Victor: “Then she’s useful.”
Simon: “You said the child wouldn’t be touched.”
Victor: “I said what you needed to hear.”
My vision narrowed.
Simon: “Adrian knows too much.”
Victor laughed.
“Not yet.”
Then the sentence that changed everything:
“Once he learns Gabriel was alive after the crash, Moretti will tear itself apart.”
I nearly stood from the surveillance van.
Daniel grabbed my arm.
“Wait.”
Gabriel was alive after the crash?
Victor continued.
“His brother still thinks drowning killed him.”
My hands shook.
“What killed him?” Simon asked.
Victor answered:
“Bellamy.”
Claire’s father.
May you like
The man whose tapes we trusted.
And suddenly every truth had another blade hidden behind it.
