Chapter 4 - Todd’s Second Phone
The safety deposit box belonged to Puget National Bank.
The branch opened at nine.
We arrived at eight forty-five.
Arthur stayed outside because bringing an alleged Mafia don into a bank negotiation seemed counterproductive.
Maya came with me.
The box had already been accessed.
Yesterday.
At 4:02 p.m.
Thirty-five minutes after my identity authorized the missing shipment.
The access signature was mine.
Again.
Video showed Brittany Shaw wearing a dark wig.
My passport.
My name.
Apparently I had become the most productive criminal in Seattle without leaving my advertising job.
The bank manager was pale.
“What was inside?” Maya asked.
He checked inventory records.
“Box owner did not declare contents.”
“Original owner?”
My grandmother.
Eleanor Mercer.
After her death, box transferred to me.
I never activated access.
Yet somebody knew it existed.
Police processed the footage.
Arthur’s people traced Brittany’s car.
Abandoned at Sea-Tac.
No Brittany.
No Todd.
Gridline placed both on administrative leave.
Then pretended to be shocked.
I did not believe them.
That afternoon, I returned to my apartment with police.
The place was destroyed.
Mattress cut open.
Books emptied.
Kitchen drawers dumped.
Not burglary.
Search.
Whoever came wanted something specific.
My old phone was missing.
A 2017 model I had not charged in years.
“Why take that?” Maya asked.
I did not know.
Then I remembered.
Grandma died in 2018.
Before her funeral, Daniel called me.
Once.
I recorded part of the voicemail because I was furious at him for not coming.
Maybe the old phone had it.
I never transferred every file.
Todd knew I kept old electronics.
Arthur arrived after police cleared the apartment.
He stood in the doorway.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I looked at him.
“That response is becoming weird.”
“I prefer accurate answers.”
Fair.
We packed essentials.
While moving a drawer, Arthur found a phone taped beneath the underside of Todd’s desk.
Not mine.
Burner.
Locked.
Maya obtained police permission before we touched anything else.
Investigators cloned it.
Todd had hundreds of messages.
Most encrypted.
One contact:
B
Brittany.
Another:
D.M.
Daniel Mercer.
My uncle.
Another:
M.R.
Unknown.
Messages revealed the operation had been planned for at least seven months.
Todd was told to “keep Natalie stable.”
Brittany wrote:
No sudden breakup until authorization capture complete.
I stared.
Even our relationship timeline had been operational.
Todd replied:
She suspects the affair.
Brittany:
Then make her doubt herself. You only need three more weeks.
My hands shook.
Arthur read over my shoulder.
His face became hard.
“He was instructed to manipulate you.”
“I noticed.”
Maya touched my arm.
I hated that I wanted to cry over this more than the theft.
Because technology and criminal conspiracies were abstract.
Todd telling another woman how to keep me “stable” was personal.
Then we found a message from Daniel.
The girl never opened Eleanor’s box. Good.
Girl.
Me.
Another:
When container clears, retrieve key before Rossi sees Mercer file.
Arthur went still.
“Mercer file?”
I looked at him.
He called his office.
Twenty minutes later, Gabriel arrived carrying an old archive folder from Rossi Maritime.
Employee misconduct investigation.
2009.
Daniel Mercer.
Inside was a photocopy of a handwritten statement.
Author:
Matteo Rossi.
Arthur’s missing brother.
Matteo accused Daniel of using port credentials to reroute high-value containers.
But there was more.
Matteo wrote:
Mercer claims he is acting under instruction from M.R. I believe M.R. has access to board-level transfer codes.
M.R.
Same initials as Todd’s burner contact.
Arthur whispered,
“My father was Marco Rossi.”
M.R.
I stared.
“You think your father was involved?”
Arthur’s expression became stone.
“No.”
“Could Matteo have?”
“My father would steal openly before hiding behind a dock guard.”
That was apparently a character defense in his family.
Maya asked,
“Who else is M.R.?”
Arthur began listing Rossi executives.
Then stopped.
“Marina Rossi.”
“Who?”
“My aunt.”
Marco’s younger sister.
Chief financial officer of Rossi Maritime for twenty-two years.
Still on the board.
I had seen photographs.
Elegant woman.
Charity galas.
Arthur trusted her.
I could tell from how much he hated the possibility.
Todd’s messages continued.
M.R.:
Arthur cannot know why Matteo went to Mercer.
Todd:
Natalie knows nothing.
M.R.:
Keep it that way.
My stomach dropped.
Matteo Rossi had gone to my grandmother.
Why?
That explained the safety deposit box.
Maybe Eleanor was not storing jewelry.
Maybe she stored whatever Matteo gave her before disappearing.
Arthur looked at me.
“Your grandmother knew my brother.”
“Apparently.”
I laughed weakly.
“Everyone in my family had a secret career except me.”
Maya said,
“Advertising can still disappoint us later.”
Police traced the stolen bank-box access.
Brittany removed one item.
A sealed VHS cassette.
Nothing else.
VHS.
Not documents.
Not money.
A tape.
Arthur frowned.
“What would be on it?”
My grandmother owned a camcorder.
She filmed everything.
Birthdays.
Thanksgiving.
Neighborhood arguments.
Maybe Matteo trusted her because video was difficult to alter in 2009.
Then Todd’s old burner rang.
Everyone froze.
Caller:
M.R.
Police connected recording equipment.
Arthur looked at me.
“Don’t answer.”
Maya said,
“Natalie decides.”
Progress spread quickly in criminal mansions.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman’s voice.
Calm.
Older.
“Natalie?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then:
“You sound like Eleanor.”
My throat tightened.
“Marina?”
Arthur went still.
The woman laughed softly.
“So Arthur finally looked in the right direction.”
Arthur took one step closer.
I kept speaking.
“What was on the tape?”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“What do you want?”
“The container.”
“You stole it.”
“No, sweetheart.”
Her voice hardened.
“I paid for it.”
Arthur’s expression changed.
Marina continued.
“And Arthur stole it from me first.”
Then the line died.
Arthur stared at the phone.
I asked,
“Is that possible?”
He did not answer immediately.
Finally:
“The processors were purchased by Rossi Maritime.”
“Using whose money?”
His silence told me.
A hidden subsidiary.
Controlled by Marina.
The missing shipment was no longer simple theft.
May you like
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It was an internal ownership war.
And Todd had put my name directly in the middle.
