Chapter 7 - THE RUSSIAN SYNDICATE
"You really thought you could lock me in a wine cellar, Luca?" Vanessa taunted, her voice echoing in the cavernous warehouse. She was wrapped in a thick wool coat, looking completely out of place among the heavily armed Russian syndicate members. "Did you forget who my friends are?"
Luca didn't look at her. He kept his dark, bleeding eyes locked on Agent Vance.
"You sold your badge a long time ago, Thomas," Luca spat, his voice raspy but defiant. "My father knew it. That's why you had him killed in prison. He was going to expose you."
Vance smiled, a cold, reptilian stretch of his lips. He casually checked the cylinder of his silver revolver.
"Your father was a dinosaur, Luca," Vance said smoothly. "He thought he could control the city with loyalty and honor. The Russians pay better. They bought this shipment of weapons from Julian twelve years ago, and tonight, they finally take possession."
Vance gestured around the warehouse. Hundreds of wooden crates were stacked high against the steel walls. Millions of dollars in untraceable firearms.
"And as a bonus," Vance added, aiming the revolver directly at Luca's chest, "I get to end the Moretti bloodline. Your empire crumbles by sunrise."
From her hiding spot behind the wooden pallets, Caroline’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
She was one unarmed housekeeper against twenty heavily armed Russian mobsters and a corrupt federal agent. She couldn't fight them. She couldn't overpower them.
But as she looked around the dark shipyard, she remembered something Luca had said earlier that evening.
We tortured our own men to find the rat.
The Moretti family had been looking for Vault 4 for twelve years. If Luca’s men knew he was here, they would bring an army.
Caroline looked at the three FBI SUVs parked near the warehouse entrance.
She didn't need a gun. She needed a radio.
Ignoring the agonizing pain in her foot, Caroline slipped through the shadows, crawling on her hands and knees toward the nearest black SUV. The Russian guards were focused on the execution about to happen inside the warehouse.
She reached the back bumper of the SUV. The driver's side window was rolled down an inch.
Caroline stood up slowly, peering inside. The keys were gone, but the intricate police radio system mounted on the dashboard was still glowing green.
She reached her arm through the narrow gap in the window, her fingers straining to reach the microphone cord.
Inside the warehouse, Vanessa laughed.
"Make it hurt, Thomas," Vanessa demanded. "He embarrassed me in front of Chicago’s elite."
Vance cocked the hammer of the revolver. "With pleasure."
Caroline’s fingers brushed the microphone. She grabbed it, pulling it through the crack in the window.
She didn't know police codes. She didn't know frequencies.
She just pressed the broadcast button and screamed as loud as she could.
"DANIEL! THEY HAVE LUCA AT VAULT 4! THE SOUTH SIDE SHIPYARD! IT'S A TRAP!"
The radio crackled violently, broadcasting her desperate plea across every open channel in the city.
Inside the warehouse, the booming echo of her voice blared from the radios attached to the vests of the corrupt FBI agents.
Vance froze. He whipped around, glaring out into the dark shipyard.
"Find her!" Vance roared, pointing his revolver toward the SUVs. "Kill her!"
Four Russian mobsters instantly broke off from the group, racking the slides of their assault rifles, sprinting toward the vehicles.
Caroline dropped the microphone and ran.
She limped as fast as she could toward the labyrinth of stacked shipping containers near the edge of the water. Gunfire erupted behind her, bullets sparking against the rusted metal of the containers, showering her in terrifying sparks.
She dove behind a massive red container, gasping for air, clutching her bleeding side where a piece of shrapnel had grazed her ribs.
Footsteps splashed in the puddles nearby. They were hunting her.
"Come out, little bird," a thick Russian accent mocked in the dark. "Make it easy."
Caroline pressed her back against the cold steel, squeezing her eyes shut. She had bought Luca a few minutes, but Daniel was miles away at the estate. He would never make it in time.
She was going to die in this shipyard.
Suddenly, a heavy hand clamped over her mouth.
Caroline screamed against the hand, thrashing wildly.
"Shh! Quiet!" a harsh voice whispered in her ear.
Caroline froze. She recognized the voice.
It was Mrs. Carter.
The traitorous head housekeeper pulled Caroline deeper into the shadows between the containers, keeping her hand clamped tightly over Caroline’s mouth.
Mrs. Carter’s face was bruised from where Daniel had tackled her, and her wrists were raw from the zip-ties, but she was holding a heavy black pistol.
The Russian mobsters walked past their hiding spot, their flashlights sweeping the dark, completely missing them.
When they were gone, Mrs. Carter slowly removed her hand.
"What are you doing here?" Caroline hissed, utterly confused. "You work for the Russians! You tried to frame Luca!"
"I work for whoever pays me, Caroline," Mrs. Carter snapped, her eyes darting nervously around the shipyard. "And right now, the Russians are burning evidence. Including me."
Caroline stared at her. "What do you mean?"
"Vance didn't bring me here to pay me," Mrs. Carter said bitterly. "He brought me here to kill me. The syndicate wants no loose ends tying them to the Moretti downfall. I managed to slip my zip-ties in the transport van and escape before they could put a bullet in my head."
She looked at Caroline, a desperate, calculating glint in her eyes.
"I heard your radio broadcast," Mrs. Carter said. "Daniel is coming. The Moretti army is coming. If they find me, they'll torture me for weeks before they kill me."
"They should," Caroline spat.
Mrs. Carter ignored the insult. She held up a small, black object.
It was the notebook. The ledger Caroline had found in the coat pocket.
"I have the proof Vance is dirty," Mrs. Carter said, shoving the notebook into Caroline’s hands. "I have the account numbers. I have everything you need to clear Luca's name and destroy the FBI's case."
Caroline gripped the notebook, her heart pounding. "Why are you giving this to me?"
"Because you're going to make a deal with Luca for me," Mrs. Carter said firmly. "You give him the ledger. In exchange, he lets me walk away tonight. He gives me twenty-four hours to disappear before he sends his men after me."
It was a devil's bargain. Let the woman who helped kidnap Elena walk free, in exchange for saving Luca’s life.
Before Caroline could answer, a deafening explosion rocked the shipyard.
The heavy steel doors of the warehouse blew inward in a massive ball of orange fire.
Caroline and Mrs. Carter were thrown to the ground by the shockwave.
Through the ringing in her ears, Caroline looked up.
A fleet of six heavily armored black SUVs came roaring through the flames of the warehouse doors, their heavy mounted machine guns tearing into the Russian mobsters.
May you like
Daniel had arrived.
And he had brought hell with him.
