Chapter 7 - The Tunnel Beneath The Floor
The rain was a violent, freezing sheet that masked the sound of our footsteps as we approached the crumbling rear wall of the 18th Street warehouse.
Luca carried a suppressed tactical rifle he had pulled from the trunk of the SUV. He moved with a terrifying grace, a ghost in a bespoke tuxedo slipping through the shadows. I followed closely behind, the dead man’s Kevlar coat heavy on my shoulders, the cold metal of the compact pistol gripped tightly in my right hand.
We reached a rusted iron grate set low into the foundation of the building.
“Is this it?” Luca whispered, crouching beside the grate.
“Yes,” I breathed, water dripping from my hair into my eyes. “It’s an old storm drain that connects to the boiler room. It hasn’t been used in twenty years.”
Luca gripped the iron bars. His muscles strained against the wet fabric of his jacket. With a grinding, metallic screech that was swallowed by the thunder, the grate pulled free from the rotting brick.
He went in first, clearing the dark tunnel with the barrel of his rifle.
I crawled in after him. The smell of mildew, wet earth, and rusted iron hit me instantly. It was exactly as I remembered from when I was a child, exploring the bowels of the building while my father walked his rounds above.
We moved in absolute darkness, guided only by the narrow beam of a penlight attached to Luca’s rifle.
“How far?” Luca asked, his voice barely a murmur echoing off the damp concrete.
“Fifty yards,” I whispered back. “Then there’s a false brick wall. Behind it is a rusted ladder that goes straight up inside the walls to the manager’s office on the second floor.”
We crept forward, the water sloshing softly over our shoes.
My mind was racing. I couldn't stop picturing my mother sitting in a chair, surrounded by men with guns. She had bad knees. She had high blood pressure. If they hurt her...
I gripped the pistol tighter. I had spent my entire life keeping my head down, avoiding trouble, serving wealthy people who didn't even know my last name. Tonight, that ended.
“Stop,” Luca hissed.
He threw his arm out, catching me across the chest.
He killed the penlight.
We stood in pitch blackness.
A few yards ahead of us, a sliver of yellow light broke through the darkness. It was coming from the edges of the false brick wall.
And through the thin barrier, we could hear voices.
“Daniel was supposed to call ten minutes ago,” a rough voice complained.
“Keep your shirt on,” a second voice replied. The sound of a lighter flicking echoed through the pipe. “The boss said they were handling the guests first. Then the Moretti kid. It takes time to clean up a mess that big.”
They were talking about Leo. About murdering a six-year-old boy.
My blood ran cold, then immediately turned to boiling rage.
Luca pressed his shoulder against the wall, listening.
“There are two in the boiler room,” Luca whispered in my ear, his breath warm against the freezing dampness of the tunnel. “Guarding the access point. I’ll take them. You stay behind me.”
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me in the dark.
Luca took a deep breath.
He didn't hesitate. He didn't count down.
He stepped forward and kicked the false brick wall with shattering force.
The rotting wood and plaster exploded outward into the boiler room. Yellow light flooded the tunnel.
Before the falling debris even hit the ground, Luca’s rifle coughed—thwip, thwip, thwip.
The two Romano soldiers dropped to the concrete floor before they could even unholster their weapons.
Luca stepped out of the tunnel, his rifle sweeping the massive, cavernous boiler room. It was clear.
He gestured for me to follow.
I scrambled out of the tunnel, my boots slipping on the rubble. I didn't look at the bodies on the floor. I couldn't.
“The ladder,” I said, pointing to a rusted iron rung bolted into the brick pillar in the center of the room. It led straight up into the darkness of the ceiling, sandwiched between two massive ventilation ducts.
Luca slung his rifle over his back and drew his pistol.
“I go first,” he said. “When I kick the grate open at the top, I’m going to draw fire. You do not come up until I say it’s clear. Understand?”
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.
Luca climbed. He moved silently, his black tuxedo blending into the shadows. I followed ten feet below him, climbing with one hand, my other hand holding the compact pistol awkwardly against my chest. My stitched palm screamed in agony every time I grabbed a rung.
We climbed two stories up in the pitch black.
Finally, Luca stopped.
Just above his head was the heavy iron grate that let out directly beneath the manager’s desk in the second-floor office.
Through the slats of the grate, light poured down onto Luca’s face.
We could hear them.
“Pick up the phone, lady,” a man’s voice barked above us.
“I told you,” my mother’s voice answered. It was shaking, but there was a fierce, defiant edge to it that I had never heard before. “My daughter is working a dinner party. She can’t answer her phone.”
“Call her again!” the man yelled. There was the sharp sound of a hand striking flesh.
My mother let out a pained gasp.
A red-hot spike of pure fury drove itself into my brain.
Luca looked down at me. He saw the look in my eyes. He knew exactly what was about to happen.
He raised his gun, placed his shoulder against the grate, and heaved.
The iron grate blasted upward, flipping violently into the office above.
Luca surged out of the hole like a demon crawling out of hell.
Gunfire immediately erupted. The deafening roar of weapons firing in a confined space shook dust from the walls.
I didn't wait. I scrambled up the last few rungs and pulled myself out of the hole, rolling onto the dusty hardwood floor of the office.
The room was chaos.
Luca had already shot two men. A third man was diving behind a filing cabinet, spraying bullets wildly toward the hole.
And in the center of the room, tied to a wooden chair, was my mother. Her lip was bleeding, but her eyes were wide with shock as she saw me.
“Emma!” she screamed.
The man behind the filing cabinet stood up, aiming his weapon directly at Luca’s exposed back. Luca was busy reloading, caught in the open.
The Romano soldier smiled, his finger tightening on the trigger.
He never got to pull it.
I raised the compact pistol, aimed directly at the center of the man’s chest, and squeezed the trigger.
The recoil snapped my wrists back. My stitched palm tore open, fresh blood soaking the white bandages.
The Romano soldier’s eyes went wide. The gun dropped from his hands. He slumped forward over the filing cabinet, sliding slowly to the floor.
The room went dead silent, except for the ringing in my ears.
I stood there, the gun trembling in my hands, staring at the man I had just killed.
Luca finished reloading. He looked at the dead man, then slowly turned to look at me.
He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. The respect in his eyes was absolute.
I dropped the gun and ran to my mother.
I fell to my knees, desperately untying the thick ropes binding her wrists. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Emma,” she sobbed, throwing her arms around my neck. “Oh my God, you’re safe. You’re safe.”
We held each other, crying in the middle of a blood-soaked mafia safehouse.
“We need to move,” Luca said quietly, walking to the shattered office window. “The gunfire will bring the rest of the warehouse down on us.”
I helped my mother stand. She was limping, but she was alive.
We moved toward the door of the office.
But as Luca reached for the brass handle, it slowly clicked open from the outside.
Luca raised his gun, aiming at the center of the doorway.
The door swung wide.
Standing in the hallway, holding a massive shotgun, was an older man with graying hair and a heavy canvas coat.
I froze.
The breath completely left my lungs.
My mother let out a strangled gasp, her hand flying to her mouth.
The man with the shotgun looked at us. His eyes locked onto my face.
“Emma?” he whispered, his voice cracking.
I couldn't speak. I couldn't move.
Because the man standing in the doorway, the man who was supposed to be dead, the man who had vanished fifteen years ago...
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Was my father.
TITLE: The Watchman In The Dark
