Chapter 18 - THE LAST MAN FROM VICTOR’S WORLD
Dorian was seventy-two when the past knocked one final time.
The man’s name was Peter Novak.
Eighty-six.
Former dockworker.
He requested a meeting through the restitution foundation.
Dorian almost refused.
Not from fear.
Exhaustion.
“How many ghosts did my father employ?”
“Apparently union benefits were excellent,” Julian said.
Dorian glared.
We met Peter at the foundation office.
He carried an old photograph.
Victor.
Edward Bennett.
Peter.
And a fourth man.
Caleb.
Young.
Very young.
Dorian stared.
“Caleb?”
Peter nodded.
My stomach dropped.
Caleb had worked for Dorian for decades.
He had been family.
He was retired now, living in Florida.
“What is this?”
Peter explained.
Caleb had known about the trafficking routes.
Not everything.
Enough.
He was twenty-two.
Victor ordered him to escort certain trucks away from the port.
Caleb obeyed.
Once.
Then he discovered people inside.
He went to Edward Bennett.
My father.
Together, they helped five people escape.
Caleb never told Dorian.
“Why?”
Peter shrugged.
“Shame.”
Dorian called Caleb.
“Come to Chicago.”
Caleb arrived the next day.
Older.
Slower.
Still unmistakably Caleb.
He looked at the photograph.
Then sat.
“I wondered when this would come back.”
Dorian’s face hardened.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You spent thirty years helping me investigate my father and never told me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Caleb looked at me.
Then Dorian.
“Because I was afraid you'd look at me the way you're looking at me now.”
Pain filled the room.
Dorian stood.
Walked away.
Then stopped.
Old Dorian might have ended the friendship instantly.
This Dorian turned back.
“Tell me everything.”
Caleb did.
It was ugly.
He obeyed one order he knew was suspicious.
He realized what he had helped facilitate.
He tried to repair it.
Victor threatened him.
Edward helped hide him temporarily.
Later, after Victor’s operations changed, Caleb returned and eventually became Dorian’s security officer.
“I stayed because I thought maybe I could keep you from becoming him.”
Dorian laughed bitterly.
“Everyone apparently had a private project involving my morality.”
Caleb smiled sadly.
“You needed several.”
Fair.
Dorian did not forgive him immediately.
But he didn't erase him either.
Weeks later, he called Caleb.
“Fishing.”
Caleb asked:
“What?”
“Thomas says retired men fish.”
“You hate fishing.”
“I hate unresolved friendships more.”
They went.
Caught nothing.
Argued.
Came home sunburned.
Apparently reconciliation.
The last secret from Victor’s era finally became public record.
No more boxes.
No more timed letters.
No more hidden accounts.
May you like
At least none we ever found.
That was enough.
