Chapter 11 - THE ESCAPE FROM ST. JUDE'S
“Now!” Luca roared into the darkness.
The cathedral erupted into chaos.
Without their night-vision goggles and radios, Vincenzo’s men were completely blinded and cut off from command.
But Marco’s men outside were relying on old-school, analog flares.
The massive stained-glass windows shattered inward as Marco’s snipers fired grappling hooks, tearing down the heavy velvet curtains and allowing the ambient moonlight to flood the nave.
“Megan, get her out of the chair!” Luca yelled, drawing his weapon and firing two precise shots into the shadows where Vincenzo’s guards were scrambling.
I didn't hesitate. I unbuckled the straps holding my mother to the wheelchair. She was weak, barely conscious, but the portable oxygen tank was still functioning.
I hauled her over my shoulder, adrenaline flooding my veins, giving me the strength of ten men.
“I’ve got her!” I screamed over the gunfire.
“To the catacombs!” Luca ordered, covering our retreat as he backed away from the altar.
We sprinted toward a heavy wooden door behind the choir stalls. Luca kicked it open, revealing a spiraling stone staircase leading down into the bowels of the cathedral.
The air grew freezing cold and smelled of damp earth and old bones.
We descended rapidly, the sounds of the firefight echoing violently above us.
When we reached the bottom, we were in a maze of narrow, arched stone tunnels.
“They’ll regroup in minutes,” Luca said, his breathing heavy as he checked his magazine. “Vincenzo won’t let us leave alive. If word gets out that he was bested by a dead man’s trap, the Outfit will lose all respect in the underworld.”
“Where does this tunnel lead?” I asked, adjusting my grip on my mother. She was shivering violently against me.
“It connects to the old Prohibition-era smuggling routes,” Luca explained, shining a small tactical flashlight down the corridor. “It should lead straight to the riverwalk. Marco has a boat waiting.”
We hurried through the damp tunnels. The walls were lined with ancient skulls and rusted iron grates.
Every shadow felt like a threat.
Suddenly, my mother gasped, grabbing my arm.
“Megan, wait,” she wheezed, her eyes wide with panic.
“Mom, we can’t stop,” I pleaded.
“My medicine,” she choked out, pointing a trembling finger back the way we came. “The vial... it was in my coat pocket. Vincenzo’s men took my coat when they brought me down here.”
My heart stopped.
The surgery she needed tomorrow was a bypass, but without her stabilizing medication, her heart wouldn't even survive the night.
I looked at Luca.
He understood instantly.
“Where did they put the coat, Helen?” Luca asked gently, though urgency laced every word.
“In a small room... just off the main altar,” she whispered, struggling to keep her eyes open. “It has a red door.”
Luca looked down the dark tunnel toward freedom, then back up the stairs toward the warzone.
He didn't hesitate.
“Take her to the boat, Megan,” Luca commanded, handing me his flashlight. “Keep following the water flow along the floor. Marco will find you.”
“No!” I grabbed his sleeve. “You can’t go back up there! Vincenzo has dozens of men! It’s suicide!”
Luca reached up and gently cupped my cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear I didn't realize had fallen.
“I lost my father because he tried to do everything alone,” Luca said softly, his dark eyes burning with absolute conviction. “I’m not losing your mother. Not when you just got her back.”
Before I could argue, he leaned in and pressed his lips firmly against mine.
It wasn't a desperate, panicked kiss. It was a promise.
“I will be right behind you,” Luca whispered.
He turned and sprinted back up the stone stairs, disappearing into the darkness.
I stood frozen for a second, my lips tingling, my heart hammering in my chest.
Then my mother squeezed my hand weakly.
“Go, Megan,” she whispered.
I hoisted her up and ran.
We navigated the winding catacombs for what felt like hours, though it was likely only ten minutes. The sound of running water grew louder until we finally emerged through a rusted iron grate onto the muddy banks of the Chicago River.
A sleek, black speedboat was idling in the water, its engine purring quietly.
Marco was standing on the dock, holding an assault rifle.
“Megan! Over here!” Marco yelled, rushing forward to help me carry my mother onto the boat.
We laid her gently on the padded leather seats in the back.
“Where is the Boss?” Marco asked, his eyes frantically scanning the darkness behind me.
“He went back for her medicine,” I gasped, collapsing onto the floor of the boat, exhausted.
Marco’s face went pale.
“He went back into the cathedral alone?” Marco swore violently under his breath. He grabbed his radio. “All units, converge on the red door behind the altar! The Boss is inside!”
Static hissed back.
“Marco, our comms are still jammed from the EMP,” a sniper’s voice crackled faintly. “We can’t coordinate!”
I looked up at the looming silhouette of the cathedral against the stormy sky.
Flames were suddenly visible through the shattered stained-glass windows.
“Vincenzo set the church on fire,” I realized in horror. “He’s trying to burn Luca alive.”
“I’m going in,” Marco said, racking the slide of his rifle.
“Wait!” I shouted.
I looked at the water. I looked at the burning cathedral.
And then I remembered something June Harper had told me in the limousine.
Anthony Moretti didn't just leave his secrets with your mother, Megan. He left his contingency plan with me.
I frantically dug into the pocket of my ruined emerald gown.
I pulled out the chipped blue coffee mug. I hadn't left it in the limo. I had carried it with me instinctively.
“Marco, shine a light on this!” I ordered.
Marco quickly aimed his tactical flashlight at the mug.
I traced my finger along the crack near the handle.
Anthony had refused to fix it. He said a mug didn't need to be perfect to be worth keeping.
I slammed the mug against the metal railing of the boat.
The ceramic shattered.
Hidden inside the thick, hollow base of the mug was a small, waterproof plastic capsule.
I cracked it open.
Inside was a single, laminated piece of paper with a radio frequency written on it.
EMERGENCY OVERRIDE: 114.7 MHz.
“Marco! Tune your radio to 114.7!” I yelled.
Marco quickly twisted the dials on his comm unit.
The static vanished instantly, replaced by crystal clear audio.
“...pinned down in the vestry! I need an exit!”
It was Luca. He was coughing heavily, the sound of crackling fire roaring in the background.
“Boss! We have comms!” Marco shouted. “Where are you?”
“I have the medicine! But the stairs are blocked by fire! I’m trapped on the second-floor balcony above the nave!”
I snatched the radio from Marco’s hand.
“Luca, listen to me!” I cried. “The stained-glass window behind the choir loft! It overlooks the river! Can you reach it?”
“It’s a forty-foot drop into the water, Megan!” Luca yelled back.
“The boat is directly underneath it!” I screamed. “Jump, Luca! Just jump!”
A massive explosion echoed over the radio as the roof of the cathedral began to collapse.
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“I love you, Megan!” Luca’s voice cracked over the speaker.
And then, the radio went dead.
