Chapter 4 - THE BLUE BOX
If Pierce had the original document, there was no reason for anyone to threaten me.
Unless his original wasn't original.
Viktor seemed to reach the same conclusion.
We left Sterling House through the service entrance.
For the first time in my life, I climbed into a black armored SUV with two security men while still wearing a waitress uniform and cheap nonslip shoes.
“This is insane,” I muttered.
Viktor sat beside me.
“That is becoming obvious.”
“My manager thinks you've kidnapped me.”
“I told him you were leaving voluntarily.”
“You told him that?”
“I prefer accurate accusations.”
I looked at him.
“Was that a joke?”
“No.”
It was definitely a joke.
We reached the Astoria storage facility in twelve minutes.
My hands shook while entering the code.
Unit 314 smelled like cardboard, dust, and everything I had spent fourteen months avoiding after my mother died.
Her old coat.
Grandma's embroidered tablecloth.
Christmas ornaments.
A chipped yellow mixing bowl.
Then I saw the carton.
ILONA.
I opened it.
Under cookbooks and photographs was a blue metal box no bigger than a shoebox.
My breath caught.
It was locked.
Viktor crouched beside me.
“Key?”
I suddenly remembered Grandma's rosary.
My mother had worn it after Ilona died.
After Mom's funeral, I had placed it inside the yellow mixing bowl because I couldn't bear to wear it.
I reached inside.
A tiny brass key hung beside the cross.
The blue box opened.
Inside were old photographs, a sealed envelope, a silver medallion, and a small leather notebook.
Viktor picked up the medallion.
His face changed.
“What?”
“This is a Kovacs council seal.”
“Why did my grandmother have it?”
“I don't know.”
I opened the envelope.
My name appeared on the front.
Mara.
Grandma's handwriting.
Inside was one sheet of paper.
If you are reading this, someone has tried to use the agreement against the Kovacs family.
Trust the language, not the translation.
Trust the seal, not the signature.
And most important:
Do not trust the man who calls himself their lawyer.
I looked at Viktor.
“Who's your lawyer?”
His expression turned cold.
“Tomas Varga.”
May you like
At that exact moment, Viktor's phone rang.
Tomas was calling.
