Chapter 7: The Secret Beneath the Clubhouse
Marcus read the message on the back of the photograph three times.
*Marcus must never learn who his father was.*
The handwriting belonged to his mother. He would have recognized it anywhere, even after twelve years.
He remembered her sitting at the kitchen table, writing grocery lists with the same slanted letters. He remembered her signing birthday cards, labeling his schoolbooks, and leaving little notes beside his breakfast when she worked early shifts.
He remembered her telling him, when he was seventeen, that his father had died before Marcus was born.
She had never given him a name.
Now, beneath the harsh red glow of the clubhouse emergency lights, Marcus wondered whether that had been the first lie.
"Raymond," he said quietly, "get this man into the back office.""
The attacker stopped smiling.
"You're not going to hurt me?""
Marcus slipped the photograph into his pocket.
"That depends on whether you give me a reason.""
Raymond hauled the man upright.
Two other bikers moved in to help, but Marcus raised his hand.
"No one touches him. No threats. No heroics. We find out who he is, then we find out who sent him.""
The man laughed as Raymond marched him away.
"You think you're in charge because you wear that patch?""
Marcus turned.
The attacker was staring directly at him.
"You're wearing a crown that belonged to a dead man. You have no idea what it means.""
The office door slammed behind them.
For several seconds, the clubhouse remained silent.
Then Sal Russo approached Marcus.
"You need to go home.""
Marcus stared at him.
"What?""
"Go home. Get some sleep. Let this settle.""
"An unknown man just broke into my clubhouse wearing Arthur Mercer's insignia. He claims my dead mother spoke to Arthur yesterday, and you want me to go to bed?""
Sal lowered his voice.
"Your mother made me promise something a long time ago.""
Marcus stepped closer.
"What promise?""
"That I would protect you from Arthur.""
"Why?""
Sal's eyes moved toward the old photograph of the club's founding members.
"Because Arthur believed you belonged to him.""
Marcus felt his stomach tighten.
"You're going to tell me everything you know.""
Sal looked toward the back office.
"Not here.""
"Then where?""
"The basement beneath the original clubhouse.""
Marcus held up the brass key.
Sal nodded.
"There's a room down there. Arthur used it for records he didn't want anyone seeing. Tank discovered it shortly before the crash.""
"And my mother?""
"She went down there once.""
Marcus's voice dropped.
"What did she find?""
Sal looked away.
"I don't know. She never told me.""
Marcus studied him.
"You're lying.""
Sal flinched.
"I've been lying to myself for seventeen years, Marcus. Don't confuse that with knowing the truth.""
Before Marcus could respond, Raymond returned from the back office.
"The guy won't give us his name," he said.
"But he's agreed to talk to you.""
"Why?""
Raymond's expression was grim.
"Because he says Daniel Bennett is running out of time.""
Marcus pulled out his phone.
He called the hospital.
Denise answered on the second ring.
"Marcus?""
"How are the children?""
"Sleeping. Noah woke up once and asked for his mother. Lila stayed beside him until he settled.""
"Any visitors?""
"One nurse came in. Nobody else.""
"Keep it that way. If anything seems unusual, call Price immediately.""
Denise hesitated.
"Marcus, Lila told me something before she fell asleep.""
"What?""
"She said her mother used to take her to a house with a red door. She said there were photographs of lots of children inside.""
Marcus closed his eyes briefly.
"Did she say whose house it was?""
"She said the man with the silver ring lived there.""
Marcus looked at Sal.
The older biker had gone pale.
"Sal," Marcus said, covering the phone, "what house has a red door?""
Sal didn't answer.
Marcus returned to the call.
"Denise, stay with them. I'll call you back.""
He ended the conversation.
"Sal.""
The older man swallowed.
"Arthur owned a property outside town. A farmhouse with a red front door. It was supposed to be a place where club members could stay when they needed help.""
"What did he actually use it for?""
Sal's eyes shone.
"I don't know.""
Marcus grabbed his jacket.
"Then we're going to find out.""
The original Iron Kings clubhouse had stood beside an abandoned rail yard. The building itself had been demolished years earlier, but the concrete foundation remained beneath a tangle of weeds and rusted fencing.
Marcus parked near the gate.
Raymond climbed out behind him, carrying two flashlights.
Sal remained in the passenger seat for a moment.
"There's something you should understand," he said.
Marcus turned.
"What?""
"If we find what Arthur left down there, you may not like what it says about your mother.""
Marcus looked at him coldly.
"I've spent twelve years grieving her. I can survive the truth.""
Sal finally climbed out.
They crossed the property and found the old basement entrance hidden beneath a collapsed wooden platform. The padlock was rusted, but the brass key turned easily.
The door opened with a groan.
A narrow concrete stairway descended into darkness.
The air smelled of damp earth and old gasoline.
Raymond switched on his flashlight.
"Charming place.""
Marcus went down first.
At the bottom stood a steel door.
The brass key fit its lock, too.
Inside was a small room lined with metal filing cabinets. A wooden desk sat beneath a dead fluorescent light. On the wall hung a photograph of Arthur Mercer standing beside a young woman.
Marcus stopped.
The woman was his mother.
She looked no older than twenty-five.
Arthur stood with one arm around her shoulders. His silver ring was clearly visible.
Beneath the photograph, someone had written a date.
*April 14, 1972.*
Marcus stared at it.
He had been born in 1972.
Raymond moved toward the desk.
"Marcus, look at this.""
An open ledger lay beneath a layer of dust. Its pages contained names, dates, payments, and addresses. Several entries had been marked with red circles.
Daniel Bennett's name appeared on the last page.
Beside it was a handwritten note.
*The boy has the evidence. Locate him before Arthur does.*
Marcus flipped backward through the ledger.
He found Tank's name.
Then Sal's.
Then his mother's.
Each entry had a number beside it.
He recognized some of the addresses. They belonged to old club members, several of whom had died under circumstances that had never been fully explained.
"Raymond," Marcus said, "take pictures of everything.""
Raymond began photographing the pages.
Marcus opened the bottom drawer.
Inside lay a sealed envelope with his name on it.
He tore it open.
A single sheet of paper fell out.
*Marcus,*
*If you are reading this, Arthur has returned. You must understand that the man you called your father was never your father. The man who raised you knew the truth, and he died protecting it.*
*Find Daniel Bennett. He has the original records. Without them, Arthur will destroy everything.*
*Do not trust Salvatore Russo.*
Marcus slowly lowered the letter.
Behind him, Sal made a strangled sound.
Raymond turned.
"What's wrong?""
Marcus faced the older biker.
"Did you know my mother wrote this?""
Sal's face crumpled.
"No.""
"Did you know Arthur was involved with her?""
"No.""
"Did you know someone had been using this room?""
Sal shook his head.
Marcus held up the letter.
"Then why does it say not to trust you?""
Sal stared at the words.
His hands began to tremble.
"Because I did something terrible.""
Before Marcus could ask what, a metallic clang sounded from the stairwell.
Raymond spun toward the door.
"Someone's coming.""
Footsteps echoed overhead.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Then a voice floated down the stairs.
"Marcus.""
Marcus went rigid.
He knew that voice.
He had heard it in dreams, in memories, and in the quiet moments before sleep.
The voice belonged to a man he'd believed dead for seventeen years.
Thomas "Tank" Callahan stepped into the doorway.
His hair had turned almost entirely white. A scar ran from his temple to his jaw, and he leaned heavily on a black walking stick.
But his eyes were unmistakable.
Marcus couldn't speak.
Tank looked at him and gave a tired smile.
"Hello, kid.""
Then he glanced at Sal.
"Looks like you finally told him where the bodies are buried.""
May you like
Sal began to cry.
And Marcus understood, with sudden terrible clarity, that the truth had been waiting beneath his feet all along.
