Chapter 6 - THE CHILD’S DRAWING
The dust from the explosion was still settling, raining down like gray snow in the dark alleyway.
Anna stood frozen, staring at the black SUV.
Lily.
Her younger sister. The twenty-two-year-old art student who was supposed to be in their cramped Bridgeport apartment studying for finals.
Lily’s hands were shaking violently as she aimed the suppressed pistol at Gabriel’s chest. Her face was pale, tear-streaked, and twisted with terror.
“Get in the car, Anna,” Lily cried, her voice cracking.
Gabriel instinctively stepped in front of Anna, shielding her from the weapon. He didn't raise his own gun. He recognized the sheer panic in the girl’s eyes. This wasn't a trained killer. This was a hostage holding a gun.
“Lily, what are you doing?” Anna screamed, stepping out from behind Gabriel. “Put that down!”
“I can’t!” Lily sobbed. “They have Dad, Anna. They went to the assisted-living facility. They took him.”
Anna’s blood ran completely cold.
Their father. A frail man suffering from early-onset dementia, who barely remembered his own name most days.
“Who has him?” Gabriel asked, his voice low and incredibly gentle, trying to de-escalate the situation.
The driver’s side door of the SUV opened.
A man stepped out into the rain. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored gray suit, holding a sleek umbrella over his head. He looked like a Wall Street banker, completely out of place in a ruined Chicago alleyway.
“Vittorio Moretti sends his regards,” the man said smoothly.
Answer one, open two.
Vittorio hadn't just tried to blow up the hotel. He had prepared a contingency plan. He had researched the woman who had jammed his detonator, found her weakness, and exploited it before the dust even settled.
“You’re Victorio’s accountant,” Gabriel said, recognizing the man. “Marcus.”
“I’m the man holding the leash, Gabriel,” Marcus corrected, stepping closer. “Your father was very disappointed when the secondary charges didn't detonate. He assumed you had help. A quick check of the hotel’s employee files led us to the lovely Miss Mercer, and consequently, to her family.”
Anna felt sick to her stomach. She had dragged her innocent sister and her sick father into a mafia war just by doing her job.
“What do you want?” Gabriel demanded, his jaw clenched tight.
“Your father wants the codes to the offshore accounts you locked down when you took over,” Marcus said. “The codes Serena failed to get. And since you clearly have a soft spot for this waitressing hero, he thought a trade would be appropriate.”
Marcus looked at Anna.
“The codes for the old man,” Marcus smiled. “Or the girl pulls the trigger and proves her loyalty to the new regime.”
“Lily, don't do this,” Anna pleaded, tears mixing with the rain on her face. “He’s sick. Dad wouldn't want this.”
“I’m sorry, Anna,” Lily wept, her finger trembling on the trigger. “They showed me a video. They’re hurting him.”
Gabriel didn't look at the gun. He looked at Marcus.
“The codes are in a secure lockbox at a private bank in the Loop,” Gabriel lied smoothly. “I need a biometric scan to access them. I can’t give them to you here.”
Marcus chuckled. “I know they aren't here, Gabriel. Get in the car. We’re taking a drive to the bank.”
Gabriel looked back at Anna. His gray eyes were intense, conveying a silent, desperate message. Trust me.
“Let the girls go,” Gabriel said. “I’ll get in the car. I’ll give you the codes. Leave them out of it.”
“I’m afraid Miss Mercer comes with us,” Marcus said, gesturing to the backseat. “Insurance. The sister stays.”
Gabriel hesitated, then nodded. He holstered his weapon and walked slowly toward the SUV. He climbed into the back, sitting next to a terrified Lily.
Anna followed, sitting on the other side of Gabriel.
Marcus got into the driver’s seat. He locked the doors and sped out of the alleyway, leaving the burning Ashford Hotel behind.
The drive was suffocatingly tense. The rain lashed against the windows. Lily kept the gun trained on Gabriel, her hands shaking so hard she could barely hold it steady.
“Where is he?” Anna asked quietly, looking at Marcus in the rearview mirror. “Where is my father?”
Marcus didn't answer.
Gabriel slowly reached into his ruined overcoat pocket. He pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper. He had grabbed it off the floor of the electrical closet when Anna had dropped her apron.
It was a drawing.
A crude, crayon sketch on a napkin. It was a picture of a house with a yellow roof, a crooked tree, and three stick figures holding hands.
Anna recognized it instantly. It was a drawing her father had made during one of his lucid days last week. He had given it to her to keep in her pocket.
Gabriel smoothed the napkin out on his knee.
He didn't look at Marcus. He looked at Lily.
“Your father drew this, didn't he?” Gabriel asked softly.
Lily swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes. It’s the house we grew up in.”
Gabriel pointed to a small, intricate detail in the corner of the drawing. A series of numbers scrawled beneath the stick figures.
3-1-4-8-9
“Anna,” Gabriel whispered, leaning closer to her. “When you were overriding the lock on the telecom closet, I saw the code you punched in.”
Anna frowned, confused. “Yeah, it’s the master override.”
“It’s a five-digit code,” Gabriel said, his eyes locking onto hers. “3-1-4-8-9.”
The Reversal hit Anna with the force of a freight train.
She stared at the numbers on the napkin. Her father had written them down a week ago. But he hadn't written them as a random sequence. He had written them next to a drawing of his old workplace.
Before his mind deteriorated, Anna’s father had been the chief electrical engineer for the company that wired the Ashford Hotel.
“He didn't just draw our house,” Anna whispered, the realization stealing her breath. “He drew the hotel’s grid.”
Gabriel looked back at Marcus in the rearview mirror.
“Your father didn't target Anna because she was a random waitress who got lucky,” Gabriel said, his voice dropping into a lethal, terrifying register. “He targeted her because her father designed the failsafes for the Ashford’s sub-basement.”
Marcus’s eyes widened in the mirror.
Before the accountant could react, Gabriel lunged forward.
He didn't go for Marcus’s gun.
May you like
He reached over the center console, grabbed the steering wheel, and yanked it violently to the right.
The SUV swerved off the rain-slicked road, crashing directly into the heavy concrete barrier of the Michigan Avenue bridge.
