Chapter 37 - The Vault in Zurich
The air thirty feet beneath the Bahnhofstrasse in Zurich was chilled to fifty degrees and smelled of ozone, polished steel, and centuries of secrets.
Julian stood guard at the head of the reinforced vault corridor, a customized submachine gun tucked beneath his heavy cashmere overcoat. Eleanor and Leo stood before the massive, circular vault door of Bayard & Cie Private Bank, the oldest and most discreet private depository in Switzerland.
The automated console lit up with a harsh green glare: *SCANNER READY: BLOODLINE RETINAL AUTHENTICATION REQUIRED.*
"Mom, if the system detects an anomaly, it deploys a localized neurotoxin into the chamber," Leo said, his fingers hovering over the override console he had spliced into the wall terminal. "My DNA is only fifty percent Arthur's."
"You're Arthur’s only living son, Leo," Eleanor said gently, resting a steady hand on his shoulder. "Your blood carries his lineage. But you have my heart. That makes you stronger than anything behind this door."
Leo nodded, leaned into the optical scanner, and allowed the red laser grid to sweep across his iris.
For three terrifying seconds, the vault computer whirred in silence. Red warning lights pulsed along the ceiling.
*IDENTIFICATION MATCHED: VANCE HEIR LEVEL 1.*
*WELCOME, MASTER LEO.*
With a deep, hydraulic hiss, the four-ton vault door unlocked, swinging backward on colossal hinges. Eleanor drew her sidearm and entered first, sweeping the corners of the dimly lit chamber.
There were no gold bullion bars or diamond crates.
In the center of the stone vault sat a single glass display case containing an antique leather-bound journal, a black military-grade hard drive, and a stack of surveillance photographs.
Eleanor walked forward, her heart pounding against her ribs. She picked up the top photograph.
It was dated five years ago—the very night she had been arrested on fabricated embezzlement charges that destroyed her life and tore Leo from her arms. In the grainy photograph, Arthur wasn't alone in the shadows outside the federal courthouse. He was shaking hands with a tall, broad-shouldered man whose face was obscured by a heavy fedora.
Eleanor flipped the photograph over. Written in faded black ink on the back was a chilling inscription:
*To Arthur: A small price to pay for the boy’s salvation. The Cardinal will be pleased. — Brother Jonathan.*
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Suddenly, the steel door behind them began to close with a violent clatter.
***
