Chapter 7 - The Blaze in Pilsen
The black SUV tore through the rain-slicked streets of Chicago, sirens blaring as we ran every red light from the Gold Coast to Pilsen. I sat in the backseat, my silver-plated Colt .45 sitting ready in my lap, my jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth.
Beside me, Elena was clutching her phone, her face pale as snow as she tried desperately to reach her brother, Gabriel.
"He's not answering, Julian!" she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He was supposed to be locking up the community center at eight o'clock! It's eight-thirty!"
"He's tough, Elena," I reassured her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder and pulling her tight against my side. "Gabriel survived the streets when we were kids. He knows how to take care of himself."
When our convoy pulled up to the scene, the street was blocked off by fire engines and police cruisers. The old brick community center was engulfed in roaring orange flames, thick black smoke billowing into the night sky.
I threw the SUV door open and stepped into the cold rain, Elena right behind me. Mateo and six armed guards formed a defensive perimeter around us instantly, their eyes scanning the rooftops and alleyways for snipers.
"Julian! Stay back!" Mateo barked, drawing his weapon as he noticed three suspicious black sedans parked down the alley.
Ignoring the warning, I rushed toward the police line. An officer stepped forward to stop me, but when he saw my face—and the imposing squad of men behind me—he immediately stepped aside. Money and power bought silence; fear bought total cooperation.
"Gabriel!" Elena screamed, breaking past the firefighters.
Near the side of an ambulance, a tall man with soot-covered skin and a bloodied bandage around his head was sitting on the bumper, coughing violently.
"Elena?" Gabriel rasped, looking up.
Elena fell to her knees, throwing her arms around her brother. "Oh God, Gabriel! Are you okay? What happened?"
Gabriel looked past his sister, his eyes meeting mine. "They weren't looking to burn the building, Julian. They were looking for something else. Men with East Coast accents. They threw tear gas inside, locked the doors, and started digging up the basement floor."
My stomach churned. "The basement floor?"
"The old safe," Gabriel choked out, accepting a bottle of water from a paramedic. "My father... before he died, he buried a steel box beneath the concrete foundations. He told me never to touch it unless the family was in mortal danger. They found it, Julian. They smashed the concrete with sledgehammers and took the box."
I walked over, kneeling beside Gabriel. "What was in the box, Gabriel?"
Gabriel looked around nervously, lowering his voice so only Elena and I could hear. "It wasn't just Julian's old ledger, Elena. It was the original land deeds and corporate charters for the Lake Michigan Deepwater Docks—deeds signed back in 1940. Whoever holds those physical deeds controls the legal ownership of the entire port. Without them, Julian's shipping empire is legally frozen."
"Don Carmine," I muttered, the truth settling over me like a heavy shroud.
Carmine wasn't trying to fight a bloody street war in Chicago. He was using ancient legal loopholes and stolen deeds to launch a hostile corporate takeover of my legitimate assets, using the federal court system to freeze my bank accounts just as I had done to Arthur Vale.
"They're going to use the deeds at the Federal Maritime Commission in Washington tomorrow morning," Gabriel added, coughing again. "I heard their captain talking on the radio. They have a charter flight leaving MidWay Airport at midnight."
I looked at my watch. It was 9:45 p.m.
We had two hours and fifteen minutes to stop a plane, recover the deeds, and end Don Carmine's reach before he legally crippled my family.
I turned to Mateo, my eyes burning with ruthless intent. "Call Dominic. Tell him to bring every heavy unit we have to Midway, Private Hangar Four. We aren't letting that plane take off."
"Julian, wait," Elena begged, grabbing my arm. "It's a trap! Carmine wants you to rush in!"
"I know it's a trap, Elena," I said softly, holding her face in my hands and kissing her forehead gently. "But in Chicago, I set the traps. You go back to the mansion with Gabriel and stay with Sofia. Mateo will leave half our force to guard you."
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"Promise me you'll come back," she whispered, her eyes filled with love and fear.
I pulled Saint Michael's medal from my pocket—the one Sofia had given me—and showed it to her. "I have my guardian angel. I'll be home for breakfast."
