Chapter 5 - The Vault
Manhattan Trust Bank stood like an ancient marble temple amidst the glass skyscrapers of Midtown. Rain had begun to fall again, slicking the granite steps as I walked through the heavy brass revolving doors at precisely 2:00 PM.
I wore a dark suit, my hair combed back, looking every bit like a high-end corporate lawyer. Underneath my jacket, however, rested two loaded 9mm pistols.
Ray’s contact was an elderly clerk with thick glasses named Arthur. Without a word, Arthur led me past the polished tellers’ counters, down a carpeted staircase, and through a massive, two-ton steel vault door into the quiet, echoing basement.
“Box 408,” Arthur whispered, inserting his master key into the lower slot of a gleaming chrome box. “You have ten minutes, Mr. Caruso. After that, the guard shift changes.”
“Ten minutes is all I need.”
Arthur stepped back, leaving me alone in the narrow, mirrored aisle of the vault. I inserted Margaret’s silver key into the top slot, turned it, and felt a heavy mechanical click.
I pulled out the long metal box and set it on a viewing table. Inside lay a thick blue leather ledger, three encrypted USB flash drives, and a handwritten letter sealed in a white envelope addressed to ‘Mom and Lily’.
I picked up the USB drive labeled ‘Vance Syndicate - Shell Accounts 2018-2023’. This was it. The smoking gun. It contained every illegal transaction, every bribe paid to city officials, and every hit authorized by Marcus Vance—including the order that led to Claire’s murder.
Suddenly, the heavy silence of the vault was shattered by the sharp screech of a security alarm.
Red emergency lights flashed against the chrome deposit boxes, casting blood-red shadows across the room.
“Caruso!” Arthur’s voice echoed down the hall, panicked and terrified, followed instantly by the dull thud of a body hitting the floor.
I slammed the metal box shut, grabbed the ledger, the USB drives, and the letter, shoving them into my deep inner jacket pocket. I drew my weapon just as two men in tactical gear rounded the corner of the vault aisle, submachine guns raised.
“Drop it, Caruso!” one screamed.
I didn't answer. I dove behind a heavy steel viewing pillar as a hail of bullets erupted, chipping marble and glass off the walls in a deafening roar.
I fired three quick rounds around the pillar, hitting the first shooter in the chest, dropping him instantly. The second shooter scrambled for cover behind a deposit box trolley.
“Marcus sends his regards, Vincent!” the man yelled, blind-firing down the hall. “You should have stayed in Queens!”
I pulled a flashbang grenade from my belt—a parting gift from my old stash—pulled the pin, and bounced it off the vault wall. It landed right at the shooter’s feet.
BANG!
A blinding flash of white light and a concussive shockwave filled the narrow corridor. The shooter dropped his weapon, clutching his ears and screaming in agony. I stepped out from behind the pillar and neutralized him with a single, precise shot to the chest.
I moved quickly toward the vault exit. Arthur lay on the carpet, unconscious but breathing. I stepped over him, keeping low as I made my way toward the bank’s side service entrance.
Marcus Vance had moved faster than I anticipated. Julian must have tracked Ray Donovan’s network or tapped the bank’s internal system. Which meant Marcus didn't just want the ledgers back—he was deploying everything he had to wipe me off the map.
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As I burst through the heavy fire exit door into the narrow, rain-soaked alleyway behind the bank, a black SUV roared to a halt, blocking the alley’s exit.
The door slid open. Standing inside, holding a heavy silenced pistol, was Marcus Vance himself.
