Chapter 8 - DRY DOCK 4
We never caught Angelo on the bridge.
An Army checkpoint delayed us.
Lucardi’s permits worked until they suddenly didn’t.
Margaret finally got a call through to a federal contact outside Pryce’s chain.
By 5:17, security at Brooklyn Navy Yard was being alerted.
But wartime bureaucracy moves both too fast and too slowly.
Too fast when it wants papers.
Too slowly when someone says sabotage.
At 5:24, we reached the outer gate.
A sanitation truck had already entered.
Lucardi nearly attacked the guard.
I shouted the vehicle number from the microfilm.
That changed everything.
Sirens began inside the yard.
Men ran.
Searchlights swung.
We were kept outside.
For ten minutes, I knew nothing.
At 5:38, there was a distant boom.
Not enormous.
Contained.
Still enough to shake windows.
Smoke rose somewhere beyond the walls.
My knees weakened.
Margaret gripped my arm.
“Not Dry Dock 4.”
“How do you know?”
“The smoke is wrong side.”
Later we learned the truth.
The truck had been stopped two hundred yards before the dry dock.
Angelo tried to flee.
A device detonated prematurely during the confrontation.
The truck was destroyed.
Two men were injured.
No ships.
No workers killed.
Dry Dock 4 survived.
Angelo did too.
Barely.
And when federal investigators searched the cab, they found identification linking him to Commander Samuel Pryce.
Pryce was arrested before noon.
Edwin Vale emerged from hiding that evening.
Alive.
Tommy’s information had worked.
But Tommy was still dead.
Nothing about saving the Navy Yard changed that.
I met Edwin Vale two days later.
He was forty-nine, exhausted, ordinary-looking enough to disappear in any government hallway.
I wanted to hate him immediately.
Instead I asked:
“How did my brother die?”
Vale removed his hat.
“Thomas was captured by Pryce’s men after leaving Pier 46.”
“Walter said he was alive.”
“He was.”
“For how long?”
“About eighteen hours.”
My throat closed.
“Did you find him?”
Vale looked down.
“Yes.”
“Alive?”
“No.”
I turned away.
Lucardi stood near the window.
Walter was in federal custody downstairs answering questions.
Margaret sat quietly.
Vale continued:
“Thomas had been interrogated.”
I raised one hand.
“No details.”
He stopped.
“Did he tell them about me?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because your apartment was untouched until Walter went there.”
That mattered.
Tommy had protected me.
Even at the end.
I asked:
“Why did you tell Lucardi he died later?”
Vale looked surprised.
“I didn’t.”
Lucardi turned.
“What?”
Vale frowned.
“I told Margaret Thomas was dead. I never contacted Salvatore.”
The room chilled.
Lucardi said:
“I received a call from your office.”
Vale shook his head.
“Not me.”
We looked at each other.
Another loose thread.
Then Margaret whispered:
“Angelo.”
Lucardi’s face hardened.
Angelo had impersonated Vale’s office.
Told Salvatore Tommy died in federal custody.
Why?
To make Lucardi believe the government had the evidence.
To keep him from searching Tommy’s last movements.
Tommy had died surrounded by lies that pointed everyone away from the real trail.
I looked at Lucardi.
“You believed it.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t verify.”
“No.”
“Why?”
For the first time, Salvatore Lucardi looked ashamed.
“Because believing the government had taken care of it was convenient.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Convenient belief.
Maybe that was how dangerous systems survived.
Not because everyone was evil.
Because enough people accepted the version that demanded the least from them.
Vale said:
“Thomas knew someone close to Lucardi was compromised. He didn’t know who.”
I looked at the microfilm.
“He suspected Angelo.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t he tell Lucardi directly?”
Lucardi answered himself.
“Because Thomas knew I might protect my own man.”
Silence.
Would he have?
Salvatore did not pretend.
“Maybe I would have.”
That honesty was ugly.
But useful.
I sat down.
After all the twists, the truth was simpler than I expected.
Tommy had trusted no institution completely.
Not the Navy.
Not federal agents.
Not Lucardi.
Not Walter.
Not even me with the whole story.
He divided information because he believed people failed under pressure.
He was right.
And that was why the sabotage failed.
No one person possessed enough truth to destroy everything when compromised.
His distrust saved lives.
It also left me with one unbearable question.
“Did Tommy know he was going to die?”
Vale hesitated.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“He left a letter.”
My breathing stopped.
“For me?”
Vale nodded.
“I’ve been carrying it three weeks.”
Anger flashed through me.
“You had it?”
“I couldn’t risk delivery while Pryce’s network was active.”
I wanted to scream.
May you like
Instead I held out my hand.
“Give it to me.”
