THIRTY-FOUR

MATT’S letter directed us to a suite in a skyscraper known as the World Diamond Tower.

The Art Deco building was also the New York headquarters of the Brink’s company as well as Lyons Global Security and their massive underground security vault.

This concrete cavern of four steel-reinforced cinder block walls was built into the solid bedrock of Manhattan Island with chambers where millions of dollars in gold, platinum, silver, and palladium were stored along with nightly deposits of gemstones, a fortune in treasure worked with or displayed during the day by Diamond District merchants on the floors above.

The security company also guarded a room holding hundreds of privately owned safe-deposit boxes, and that’s where we were headed—the “we” being me, Matt, Sal Arnold, and three men in Lyons uniforms. With their broad shoulders, thick muscles, and vests branded with the flashy lion’s paw logo, you could put a cape on any one of them and he’d pass for Panther Man, which didn’t calm my nerves any.

In their suite upstairs, Lyons had lovely viewing rooms where owners had their boxes brought to them, and they did their business in comfort and privacy, 24/7. But when we checked in, we were informed that “due to the extraordinary nature of this account” we would be brought to the mountain, so to speak.

The slow descent in a creaky steel mesh-walled elevator was unexpected, and rather unnerving. When we finally landed inside the vault, the concrete passageways and floor of leveled and polished bedrock felt like a claustrophobic catacomb for the dead.

It didn’t take long for world-traveling Matt to feel trapped. “What are we waiting for? It’s after six o’clock.”

Sal Arnold’s reply was equally impatient. “We can’t do business until Sophia Campana or her legal representative arrives.”

I touched Matt’s arm. “Do you think your godfather will come?”

“I figure he’ll show. Which begs another question—” Matt checked his watch. “Where is Mother? I texted her where to be and when.”

“Oh, I forgot to mention. She called me this morning and said she had a change of heart. She said you should stop by tomorrow and discuss the matter. Frankly, Matt, I think she’s upset that your late father never mentioned a word to her about this legacy. I also think she’s afraid some dark family secret will be revealed.”

“Like what? I have a long-lost brother, or sister? Then what’s in the box? Their birth certificates, or their bones?”

“That’s not even close to funny. You never know what sort of skeleton might pop out of this high-security closet.”

Matt shrugged off my warning and fixed his gaze on the lawyer. “I have a question, Mr. Arnold. What is so extraordinary about this box that the security chief refused to move it upstairs?”

The portly man shrugged. “The two gentlemen who established this trust sixty years ago bought an unusual amount of insurance, not only from a Swiss company but from this security company, which required that the box should not be removed from the vault by anyone but the owners.”

At the end of the passage outside, the noisy elevator thudded to a halt and the steel doors clattered opened. A minute later, a guard ushered in a natural beauty in a black A-line dress. Her amber-brown eyes were bright, her charming smile lined and glossed in a vibrant red that precisely matched her shoes, handbag, and glittering jewelry.

In a perfumed cloud of style and grace, Sophia Campana had arrived.