Chapter 6 - THE AMBULANCE
The rhythmic, piercing beep of a heart monitor slowly pulled Caroline from the dark.
She opened her eyes, groaning as a dull, heavy ache radiated through her entire body. The harsh fluorescent lights above her were blinding.
"Easy now. You took a nasty shock."
Caroline blinked, trying to focus. She was lying on a narrow gurney in the back of a moving ambulance. An EMT was wrapping a blood pressure cuff around her arm.
"Where... where am I?" Caroline rasped, her throat dry and raw.
"You're in an ambulance, hon," the EMT said gently. "The FBI called us to the Moretti estate. You had a minor cardiac episode from a stun gun. We're taking you to Chicago Gen for observation."
Caroline’s memory slammed back into her with the force of a freight train.
The raid. The ledger. Vance’s smile.
Luca.
She tried to sit up, but her wrists were restrained by thick leather straps tied to the metal rails of the gurney.
"Hey, don't struggle," the EMT warned, pressing her back down. "The Feds slapped those on you. They said you're a material witness in a high-profile case. There's a squad car following us right now."
Caroline panicked, pulling weakly against the leather straps. "You have to let me go. They're going to kill him! Agent Vance is walking Luca Moretti into a trap!"
The EMT sighed, a look of profound pity crossing his face. "Miss, I just take blood pressure. I don't get involved in mob business. Just lay back and breathe."
He turned away to check a monitor.
Caroline squeezed her eyes shut, fighting down a wave of desperate tears. She had failed. She had found the proof, and the FBI had simply taken it and thrown her in an ambulance. Luca was probably already dead. The Russian syndicate had won.
But as the ambulance hit a pothole, Caroline felt something hard press against her hip inside the pocket of her uniform skirt.
She opened her eyes, frowning.
Her hands were tied, but her fingers could just barely reach the edge of her pocket. She twisted her hip, sliding her index finger inside.
She touched cold, smooth metal.
It was the heavy iron key. The key to Vault 4.
She had kept it in her pocket when she pushed the briefcase full of cash down the laundry chute.
Vault 4. The weapons shipment.
Julian Bellini had sold the location of Vault 4 to the Feds twelve years ago. But why would Vanessa have the key now, carefully hidden with her escape money?
A horrifying realization dawned on Caroline.
The Feds hadn't seized the weapons twelve years ago. Julian had paid them off. The guns were still there.
Vanessa wasn't just running away with cash. She was going to sell the contents of Vault 4 to the Russians to buy her safety.
And if Agent Vance was working for the Russians... that's where he was taking Luca.
"Excuse me," Caroline gasped, feigning a sudden, violent coughing fit. "I can't... I can't breathe."
The EMT quickly turned back, genuine concern on his face. "Alright, hang on, let me check your airway—"
As the man leaned over her, Caroline didn't hesitate. She brought her knee up as hard as she could, driving it directly into the EMT's stomach.
The man grunted, doubling over in pain, stumbling backward into the medical cabinets.
"I'm sorry!" Caroline yelled, adrenaline flooding her system.
She twisted her body, violently contorting her wrist until the skin scraped raw, and managed to slip her left hand out of the leather restraint. She quickly untied her right hand.
The ambulance swerved sharply as the driver heard the commotion in the back.
"Hey! What's going on back there?" the driver yelled through the small partition window.
Caroline didn't answer. She grabbed a heavy oxygen tank wrench from the wall, limped to the rear doors, and smashed the locking mechanism.
She kicked the doors open.
The ambulance was speeding down a dark, wet industrial road. The squad car following them immediately hit its sirens, the red and blue lights flashing frantically.
Caroline didn't have time to think. She braced herself, clutching the iron key in her fist, and jumped out of the moving ambulance.
She hit the wet pavement hard, rolling wildly into the muddy ditch beside the road. Searing pain exploded in her injured foot, and her shoulder screamed in protest, but she didn't stop moving.
She scrambled up the muddy embankment, disappearing into the dense brush just as the squad car slammed on its brakes, tires squealing against the asphalt.
Caroline lay in the freezing mud, breathing heavily, watching the cops shine flashlights into the ditch.
After five agonizing minutes, they moved down the road, searching for her in the wrong direction.
Caroline slowly pushed herself up. She was covered in mud, her uniform torn, her body bruised and bleeding. She looked down at the iron key in her hand.
She knew where Vault 4 was. She had heard the older staff whisper about it for years. It was in the abandoned shipyard on the South Side.
She began to limp through the dark, determined to find Luca Moretti, or die trying.
An hour later, Caroline stood in the shadows of the rusted, towering cranes of the South Side shipyard.
The rain had stopped, leaving a heavy fog rolling off the water.
Parked near a massive, rusted corrugated steel warehouse marked with a faded '4' were three black FBI SUVs.
Caroline crept closer, hiding behind a stack of rotting wooden pallets.
The warehouse doors were wide open, illuminated by harsh work lights.
Inside the warehouse, surrounded by dozens of heavily armed men who were decidedly not FBI agents, was Luca Moretti.
He was kneeling on the concrete floor, his hands still cuffed behind his back, his face bruised and bleeding.
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Standing in front of him, holding a heavy silver revolver, was Agent Vance.
And standing right beside Vance, smiling a cruel, victorious smile, was Vanessa Bellini.
