Chapter 6 - The Interrogation of Thomas Reed
At eleven o'clock, Vincent and I descended the stone spiral staircase to the subterranean security vault beneath the historic carriage house.
Thomas Reed sat strapped to a reinforced steel chair in the center of the concrete room, his expensive shirt soaked with sweat, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot.
Vincent pulled up a wooden stool, sitting directly opposite the fallen manager, setting the repaired 1968 Patek Philippe case on his knee.
"Where is the original movement, Thomas?" Vincent asked.
Thomas looked up, his voice cracking into a ragged whisper. "In a safe deposit box at the Manhattan Private Bank on 57th Street. Box 414. The key is in the lining of my leather briefcase."
"And the missing links from the fob chain?"
"In my desk drawer in the estate office," Thomas wept, tears spilling down his pale cheeks. "Beneath the false bottom of the cigar box. Vincent... I swear to God, I never wanted to hurt the little girl! I was terrified! Marcus Vance told me that if the audit wasn't closed by tonight, his men would burn my family's vineyard to the ground!"
Vincent stood up slowly, picking up the gold watch.
"You were willing to destroy an innocent woman's life, Thomas," Vincent said softly. "You were willing to let a four-year-old child believe her mother was going into the dark forever, just to protect your commercial investments in California."
Vincent turned to Marco, who stood by the iron door.
"Deliver the bank key to Dr. Lin. Retrieve my father's movement," Vincent commanded. "And transfer Thomas Reed to the federal detention center in Brooklyn. He is no longer part of this house."
As the armed guards unstrapped the weeping manager and led him away in heavy steel transport chains, Vincent turned to me in the dim light of the vault.
May you like
He reached out, his warm, strong hand gently taking mine.
"Come, Clara," Vincent murmured softly. "Let’s go take your daughter home."
