Chapter 5 - The Secret Channel
Julian pressed his ear firmly against the ice-cold brick wall of the cellar.
The faint tapping sound repeated in a frantic, uneven rhythm.
Tap-tap-tap... tap... tap-tap.
Julian recognized the distinct pattern instantly from his childhood sailing lessons with Arthur.
It was the international Morse code signal for "HELP."
"Dad! Can you hear me?" Julian whispered loudly into the small air vent near the ceiling.
A weak, muffled thud echoed back through the metallic duct.
Julian’s heart surged with a dark, desperate determination.
"I know you're in there, Dad, and I'm not leaving without you," Julian promised into the dark vent.
He scrambled around the pitch-black cellar, his hands wildly searching the dusty stone floor.
His fingers scraped against a heavy, rusty iron crowbar resting beside an old wooden wine crate.
Julian gripped the iron rod tightly and wedged its pointed edge between the loose bricks surrounding the vent.
He threw his entire body weight against the bar, his muscles straining until his shoulders burned.
With a harsh, grinding crunch, the old mortar crumbled, releasing a heavy shower of dust and stone.
On the other side of the estate, inside her dimly lit master study, Maria poured herself a glass of dark scotch.
Marcus stood respectfully before her desk, his hands folded behind his back.
"Is the boy securely locked away?" Maria asked, taking a slow, deliberate sip.
"Yes, ma'am, he isn't going anywhere," Marcus replied in a flat, emotionless voice.
"Good," Maria said, her lips curving into a cold, predatory smile.
"The transport van arrives at 2:00 AM to transfer Arthur to the offshore facility," she instructed.
"Make sure Julian stays in that cellar until the transport is fifty miles away," she added sternly.
Marcus nodded once, his expression completely unreadable under the dim lamps.
"Understood, Mrs. Vance," Marcus said quietly before turning to leave the room.
As Marcus walked down the silent, dimly lit hallway, he pulled out a hidden secondary phone from his pocket.
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His fingers flew across the screen as he sent a single encrypted text message to an unknown number.
The text read: The boy is in position. Prepare the trap.
