Chapter 6 - THE SILVER ROSARY
The silence inside the small car was deafening, save for the hum of the highway traffic rushing past them.
Adrian stared at the brilliant blue sapphire woven crudely into the child’s braided bracelet.
His wife, Clara, had died five years ago in what the police ruled a tragic boat engine failure on Lake Michigan. Her body was never recovered, only pieces of the wreckage. He had mourned her. He had let Michael guide him through the grief, leaning on the older man like a father.
And all this time, Michael had kept a trophy.
“He gave this to Lily,” Adrian whispered, his voice cracking with a terrifying mix of sorrow and rage. “He gave her my dead wife’s jewel as a toy.”
Answer One: Michael had orchestrated Clara’s murder to remove her influence over Adrian.
Open Two: If Clara died five years ago, what was in the locker at Union Station today? And why did Michael need the ticket so desperately right now?
“Mr. Vale,” Nora said softly, reaching out from the backseat and gently placing her uninjured hand on his shoulder. “We have to keep moving. He’s going to track the car.”
Adrian blinked, pulling himself back from the edge of the abyss. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his mafia exterior snapping violently back into place.
“You’re right,” Adrian said, gripping the steering wheel. He threw the car back into gear and pulled onto the highway. “We’re going to Union Station. We have to see what Julian hid in that locker. It’s the only way to destroy Michael.”
“Is it safe?” Nora asked, holding Lily tightly. “Won’t he have men watching the station?”
“He won’t expect us to walk right into the center of the city,” Adrian said. “He expects us to run and hide.”
They drove in silence for thirty minutes, blending into the heavy midday traffic of downtown Chicago. Adrian parked the Honda in a subterranean lot three blocks away from the massive train terminal.
“Stay close,” Adrian ordered, helping Nora and Lily out of the car.
They walked through the crowded streets, the bustling crowds of commuters providing perfect cover. Adrian kept his head down, scanning every face, his hand resting near the weapon in his holster.
They entered the sweeping, cavernous Great Hall of Union Station.
Adrian pulled the yellow baggage ticket from his pocket. He checked the number: Locker 402.
They navigated the marble corridors until they reached the old, coin-operated luggage lockers near the lower concourse.
Adrian found locker 402. He inserted the yellow ticket into the automated slot.
With a heavy, mechanical clank, the locker door swung open.
Inside was a simple, dark leather briefcase.
Adrian pulled it out and set it on a nearby bench. He snapped the latches open.
Nora stood close, shielding Lily.
Inside the briefcase wasn’t cash. It wasn’t a ledger of offshore accounts.
It was a stack of physical documents, stamped with the seal of the District Attorney’s office.
Adrian quickly flipped through them.
“These are immunity agreements,” Adrian said, stunned. “Julian didn’t betray me. He was brokering a deal with the feds to grant me immunity in exchange for turning over Victor Rossi’s syndicate.”
The reversal twisted the knife in Adrian’s chest. Julian hadn’t been a traitor. He had been trying to save his brother’s soul.
And Michael had killed him to protect Rossi.
But beneath the documents, resting on the velvet lining of the briefcase, was a delicate, silver rosary.
Adrian stopped breathing.
He slowly reached into the case and picked it up. The silver beads were tarnished, but the crucifix was distinctively engraved with the initials C.V.
Clara Vale.
“That’s my wife’s rosary,” Adrian whispered. “She was wearing this the day the boat exploded.”
Nora frowned. “If the boat exploded... how did your brother get her rosary?”
“He didn’t get it from the boat,” a smooth, echoing voice said.
Adrian whipped around.
Standing ten feet away, blocking the corridor leading to the main exit, was Michael.
He was holding a suppressed pistol, aimed directly at Adrian’s chest. Flanking him were four men in dark suits, their hands resting on their weapons, effectively cutting off any escape.
“Julian got that rosary from me,” Michael said softly, stepping closer.
Adrian pushed Nora and Lily behind him, shielding them with his body.
“You gave it to him?” Adrian demanded.
“He found it in my safe last week,” Michael sighed, looking genuinely disappointed. “Julian was always too curious for his own good. He realized I ordered the hit on Clara. He stole the rosary as proof, gathered those immunity documents, and threatened to expose me to you. I couldn’t let that happen.”
Michael extended his free hand.
“Give me the briefcase, Adrian,” Michael said. “And I’ll let the maid and the child walk away.”
“You’re a liar,” Adrian spat.
“Perhaps,” Michael smiled. “But you have no other choice.”
May you like
Michael raised the gun, aiming past Adrian, pointing the barrel directly at seven-year-old Lily.
“The briefcase,” Michael repeated, his voice turning to ice. “Or the girl dies right here.”
