Steve paced impatiently inside the interrogation room at the Salem Jail, while inside the viewing booth Kayla, Jo, Adrienne, Kim, Bo, and Hope watched. With the sensitive sound equipment that had been installed in the room, they could hear the soft rustling of his clothes and the sounds of his footsteps echoing in the quiet room, but he could not hear them conversing among themselves.
Due to a number of concessions, not the least of which was the personal harm that had been done to him by Ogden Vaughn, but also by his former status as a member of the Salem P.D. and by his association with the Brady family, he had requested and been granted the favor of being present in the room during Vaughn's interrogation, a privilege that would allow him to ask questions and confront the man whose expertise and contacts had successfully kept him confined for fifteen years.
After ten restless minutes, the door opened and Roman stepped inside the room. "They're on their way," he announced.
"I can't believe Vaughn agreed to talk to us," Steve said.
"Well, I don't know how much we'll get out of him," Roman conceded, "but hopefully Shane can convince him that it would be in his best interest to give us whatever he can in the way of information against Alamain. We're going to find out everything anyway, one way or another, and if he gives us useful information, we might we agreeable to certain concessions."
Steve's expression hardened. "What kind of concessions?" he challenged, resentfully. "It was largely because of this man and his contacts at the I.S.A. that I was kidnapped and kept away from my family for all those years!"
"I know, Steve, and he's going to do time for that. But he's also facing some even more serious charges, like accessory to the murder of that mortician. That carries a very stiff penalty, and it's those charges that we might be able to offer him some slack. We're not negotiating on any of the crimes committed against you or any of those involving I.S.A. business. The Brits will have their shot at him, too."
"I just want all this to be over," Steve sighed. "I don't want Kayla and Stephanie living under the stress of wondering who is going to come out of the shadows or who might be following them."
"Well, we're getting there."
The door opened again, and Shane entered with Vaughn, shackled and wearing an orange jumpsuit. The prisoner stopped just inside the door, his rather surprised eyes meeting that of Steve. Steve glared in a decidedly hostile manner, but made no move toward him. Instead, he was reveling in the sight of the former agent wearing the orange jumpsuit of the Salem jail, his hands and ankles bound by chains.
"Well, well, well," Vaughn said in a condescending tone. "Steve Johnson. I didn't expect you to be here."
Steve did not rise to the challenge of Vaughn's mocking words and tone, but his expression hardened with suppressed anger.
"Sit down at that table," Shane instructed as the door was closed behind him by a pair of guards, who would remain outside the door during the interrogation.
Vaughn did as directed, taking the chair at the end of the small rectangular table. Roman and Shane also sat down, but Steve remained standing against the wall near the opaque viewing window.
"Let's get this underway, shall we?" Shane said.
"You're calling the shots," Vaughn said flippantly.
"I'll get right to the point, then," Roman said. "Is Lawrence Alamain the mastermind of this operation?"
"What do you think?" Vaughn asked.
"Everything about this has Alamain's name all over it," Roman said. "Right down to the chest of artifacts with the Alamain family crest branded on the side. It doesn't take much to deduce who was behind it."
"You realize, of course, that if I talk, he could easily have me killed, don't you?" Vaughn asked. "He's a very powerful man, capable of getting his cohorts inside any prison, and capable of doing pretty much anything he chooses. There are always people ready to sell their loyalty to him for a price. If I talk, he won't hesitate to have me eliminated."
"We'll see that you're well protected," Shane told him.
"It won't be enough, and you know it."
"You have my guarantee, it will be enough," Roman told him. "Did it never occur to you that he might have had you eliminated after he received the artifacts, just in case you decided to turn on him?"
There several moments of silence as Vaughn pondered the question, and his expression indicated that he had not considered that. Finally, he shrugged. "No, I suppose it didn't. But you're right. He possibly would have done just that."
"Tell us what we need, and we'll do our best to bring him to justice."
At that, Vaughn laughed, but there was no real humor in it. "Bring Lawrence Alamain to justice? Is that some sort of joke? He's out of your reach, Brady. Always has been, always will be."
Roman and Shane exchanged glances, both of them conceding the probability that Alamain would get away scot-free.
"You realize, of course," Roman said, "that once he finds out you've been arrested, he's going to assume you talked to us, whether you did or not. Help us, and we will be inclined to do our best to protect you as our 'star witness'. Give us nothing, and we may not be able to convince a judge that you require extra protection. Talk to us, and we both win."
Vaughn was quiet for several more moments, thinking about their offer. Cooperating with Roman and Shane was not something that pleased him, but he could not deny the validity of their warnings. "Very well, then. Perhaps there is some wisdom in cooperation."
"Is Alamain the one who managed to get you out of prison?"
"I don't know how he did it, but he managed a private meeting in the prison where I was serving my time. My guess is, someone owed him a favor. He's a very powerful man, but I presume you already know that or we wouldn't be here, would we? He was interested in me because of my contacts with the I.S.A., and I still had a friend or two in the organization who he knew might be willing to help on a very special project." His eyes drifted to Steve again, the subject of the project in question.
"Which was the recovery of the chest with the artifacts," Shane interjected.
"Yes, well, he didn't tell me any details straightaway, of course. He let me think about it for a while, but I knew I would be foolish to turn down an opportunity at freedom and more money than I ever dreamed of. When it was all over, he promised to arrange for a new name complete with all new identification and a new life in Australia with enough money to live there quite comfortably for the rest of my life. Never been to Australia, but they speak passable English there, so I knew I could be quite content in Brisbane or Sydney. When he returned for an answer, I told him that I would accept his offer. It was only a few days after that when I was released."
"So he had a contact in a very high place," Shane suggested.
"That would be my guess. I was very quietly released, though. No fanfare, no exoneration, no camera crews. Just a very quiet warning that I should watch my step, or I might find myself back inside. I was only too happy to disappear into the countryside."
"What happened then?" Roman prompted.
"Mr. Alamain took me to his home, treated me like an honored guest. It was there that he told me a remarkable story. It seems back in the early 1800's, his family was approached by a museum in Rome. They were seeking some ancient historical Roman artifacts that had been brought to his estate by a distant ancestor, and owned by the family presumably for hundreds of years. After some negotiations, Alamain's great-great-great-great grandfather, he wasn't sure how many 'greats' it involved, reached an agreement with the curator. The items were to be leased, to be returned upon demand to Alamain or his descendants, but it seems the signed documents were either lost or very cleverly misplaced, and so the items were never returned when the family requested. Several generations later, Lawrence's great grandfather took it upon himself to restore honor to the family by obtaining the return of the family treasures by whatever means necessary."
"In other words, he stole them from the museum," Steve said.
Vaughn turned his attention to Steve, appraising him as if he was nothing more than an irritation, a gnat to be swatted. "Is it necessary for him to be here? He is no longer a law officer."
"Thanks to you and Alamain, he's earned the privilege of being here," Roman told him, firmly. "Go on."
Vaughn glared a moment longer to illustrate his dissatisfaction, but in the end, he had no choice but to yield. "Very well. Yes, some might say this Alamain ancestor stole the items, but in his mind, he was only recovering what had been stolen from his family generations before. The act of recovering the items wasn't too difficult, from what I understand. Security measures were not as complex or as sophisticated as they are now. Alamain's grandfather recovered his family heirlooms, placed the items inside a wooden chest and hid them on his property, where they remained until the outbreak of the First World War."
"At which point, he moved them to a safer place?" Shane guessed.
"Yes. The war was being waged in Europe, and even though Italy did not see the action it would in the second world war, there was no way of knowing at the time just how involved the Italians would be. In the early days, there was always the possibility that armed forces from either side would overtake the estate and steal the treasures, so Lawrence's grandfather had the items removed to a place far away, a place that had not yet been touched by the ravages of International war, and which he felt probably never would; the continental United States. He sent one of his employees to New York with the chest and explicit instructions for its care."
"Chiapetta," Steve said.
Vaughn glanced at him again, this time in surprise. "Yes, how did you know?"
"I have my ways of finding out things too."
"Yes, well, things did not go as Alamain planned. Chiapetta, thought to be a loyal servant to the family, was himself Italian by birth and allegiance, and believed that the artifacts belonged to Italy, so he took the chest and simply disappeared into the vast American landscape. His original intentions apparently were to hold the artifacts until the conclusion of the war, and then return them to Italy, perhaps even seeking a reward for their return."
"Did Alamain make any attempts to locate this Chiapetta?"
"I would presume so, but the United States is a very large country, so many places to hide, so many large cities, and it seemed the treasure was lost once again. Until the current Mr. Alamain discovered some old documents secreted away among his grandfather's old papers, naming Chiapetta as the custodian of the chest. Nowadays, with the Internet searches, it took some time for his staff to find this person's name listed among burial records, but they eventually did find it. And guess where Chiapetta had fled? Good old Salem. With Chiapetta's destination now known, it did not take too long after that to find that he had purchased the Wyatt house. And guess who he hired as a handyman?" His eyes were bright with amusement as he looked straight at Steve.
Steve cocked his head slightly. "I may not be as young as I once was, but I was certainly not around when this Chiapetta moved into the house, if that's what you're driving at."
"Obviously not, but guess who was?"
Steve shook his head, growing annoyed. "I'm in no mood for guessing games, Vaughn. If you have something to say, then say it."
Vaughn laughed. "All right, I will. The handyman who constructed the secret hiding place for the chest in the cellar of your home was one Earl Johnson, father of Duke Johnson, grandfather of Steven Earl Johnson."
Everyone in the interrogation room and in the viewing room turned to stare at Steve, who stared in turn at Vaughn, totally speechless.
Vaughn laughed again, delighted by Steve's startled expression. "I take it this comes as a bit of a surprise. And that surprises me. Alamain was absolutely certain that Earl would have told his own son about the treasure that had been hidden in the Wyatt house at Chiapetta's instructions, and that Duke would have passed the information along to his son."
"Duke Johnson never told me anything," Steve said, tersely. "If Alamain had done his research, he would have known that my mother got me away from that scum when I was five years old."
"Oh, he did his homework, as you Americans say," Vaughn said. "He also knows that Duke Johnson came back to Salem in the late '80's and that you and he did speak."
"Not in a friendly way."
"Still, it was assumed that your father had informed you of the treasure hidden in your house, and that was the reason you eventually acquired it."
"Duke never mentioned anything to me about the house, and I have serious doubts that he knew about it. If he did, I have no doubt he would have tried to get to it long before I ever came along."
"Well, I suppose we'll never know, will we?" Vaughn asked. "It's delightfully ironic how your own grandfather built the hiding place two generations before you acquired the house. It's a small world after all, isn't it?"
Steve stared at Vaughn for several moments, then rapped his knuckles on the door, requesting to be let out. It was opened from the outside, and Steve stepped through it, then made his way directly to the viewing room, where his eye sought out his mother.
"Did you know that Duke's father had worked at the house?" he asked.
"No," she replied. "He never told me that. Back before he became so abusive, back when we were dating, he told me that his father had abandoned him and his mother in Cincinnati when he was a boy, but he never mentioned any connection to Salem. I'm not sure he knew, but either way, he died before you and Kayla moved into the house, so there was no reason for it to come up."
Steve nodded, accepting her explanation. "That goes along with what Sylvia Radke told us," he said to Kayla.
"Yeah, it does." To the others, she explained, "We visited with an elderly woman who used to live in our old neighborhood. She told us about Chiapetta and his handyman. She didn't know the handyman's name, but mentioned a rumor that he had abandoned his family in Cincinnati. Clearly, it was Earl Johnson."
Steve shook his head. "Who would have ever thought that one of my ancestors had once worked at the very same house that would eventually be given to us. I mean, what are the chances of something like that happening?"
Bo nodded. "That's the link we were looking for. Earl Johnson is the connection that brought this to you."
"Figures," Steve said with disgust. "It just figures that this would lead back to one of my worthless ancestors."
Kayla placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. "He was awful for abandoning your father and grandmother, but he really had nothing to do with the artifacts, other than building a hiding place for them."
He sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
"It's almost over, Steve," Hope said. "We'll contact the Italian authorities and see what they have to say about all this, and we'll find out who the true owners are. But with the artifacts out in the open now, Alamain has no reason to come after you."
Bo added, "There are some things we need to check out first, but I think we can all start breathing a little easier now."