Chapter 5 - THE BAGGAGE TICKET
The back of the Moretti SUV smelled like expensive leather and cheap cigar smoke.
I was shoved into the middle seat, sandwiched between Donato’s two massive armed guards. Sabrina sat in the front passenger seat, nervously checking her makeup in the visor mirror as if she hadn't just tried to murder an old woman.
Donato sat in the back with me, holding the tiny baggage claim ticket between his manicured fingers.
“You’re a very brave girl, Rachel,” Donato said, his voice smooth and utterly devoid of warmth. “Or a very stupid one. We’ll find out when we get to Union Station.”
I stared straight ahead at the Chicago skyline rushing past the tinted windows. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, but I kept my face blank. I had spent my life being invisible. I knew how to hide my feelings.
“If you hurt me, you don't get the locker number,” I said quietly.
Donato chuckled. “I don't need to hurt you, sweetheart. You’re going to open the locker, hand over whatever your mother hid, and then I’m going to let you walk away. The Morettis are businessmen. We honor our deals.”
“Like you honored the deal with Marco?” I shot back.
Sabrina flinched in the front seat.
Donato’s smile vanished. “Marco was a fool. He thought he could outsmart me. Your mother thought the same thing. I hope you’re smarter than both of them.”
We arrived at Union Station in fifteen minutes. The massive train terminal was crowded with morning commuters, a sea of suits and coffee cups.
“Keep quiet,” the guard on my left muttered, pressing the hard barrel of a suppressed pistol into my ribs through his coat pocket.
We walked into the grand hall. The sheer size of the room, with its soaring ceilings and echoing announcements, made me feel incredibly small.
“Where is it?” Donato asked, staying close to my side.
I scanned the rows of metal storage lockers lining the far wall. I had lied. I had no idea which locker my mother had used. She died when I was sixteen. I hadn't been to Union Station in a decade.
But I needed to buy time. Vincent had promised he would come.
“It’s in the lower level,” I lied, pointing toward the escalators. “Locker 412.”
Sabrina let out a nervous breath. “Let’s just get it and go, Donato. Vincent isn't going to sit around.”
“Vincent is bleeding on a hospital floor,” Donato scoffed, but he gestured for the guards to lead me toward the escalators.
As we descended into the dimmer, less crowded lower level of the station, the rows of gray metal lockers stretched out before us.
“Open it,” Donato said, handing me the small paper claim ticket.
I walked slowly to locker 412. My hands shook as I slid the ticket into the electronic scanner.
The machine beeped angrily, flashing a red light.
INVALID TICKET.
Donato’s face hardened. “Try it again.”
I swiped it again. Same red light.
“You lied to me,” Donato said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper.
“It’s been twelve years!” I cried, backing away from the locker. “Maybe they changed the system! Maybe it’s a different bank of lockers!”
Sabrina stormed forward, grabbing my arm. “You stupid maid, you're stalling! Tell him where it is!”
Before I could answer, a loud, sharp whistle echoed through the empty lower level.
We all turned.
Standing at the top of the escalator, silhouetted against the bright lights of the main hall, was Vincent Romano.
He wasn't bleeding anymore. His leg was tightly bandaged, and he held a heavy, tactical shotgun resting casually on his shoulder.
And he wasn't alone.
Lining the balcony above us were half a dozen men in dark suits, their weapons trained directly on Donato and his guards.
“You’re right, Donato,” Vincent called down, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. “I’m not sitting around.”
Donato’s guards immediately raised their weapons, but they were hopelessly outgunned.
“Let the girl go, Donato,” Vincent said, slowly walking down the escalator. “You’re surrounded. You have nowhere to run.”
Donato didn't panic. He smiled.
He reached into his tailored suit jacket and pulled out a small, black remote control.
“I always have somewhere to run, Vincent,” Donato said calmly.
May you like
He pressed the red button on the remote.
A deafening explosion rocked the upper level of the train station.
