Chapter 5 - A Bitter Dough
The honeymoon period of their new arrangement lasted exactly twelve hours.
At noon on Friday, a massive yellow bulldozer crawled down Holloway Street, its steel treads grinding against the asphalt with a sound like tearing metal. Behind it came three city police cruisers and a white sedan bearing the logo of the Department of Housing and Urban Development.
Juny ran to the front door, her heart freezing as she saw Inspector Vance step out of the lead vehicle, holding a heavy red stapler and a laminated sheet of plastic.
"Move away from the door, Miss Alvarez," Vance called out through a megaphone. "By order of the municipal safety council, this structure has been declared an immediate public hazard due to foundation instability. The emergency demolition order has been signed. You have fifteen minutes to remove your personal belongings before the structure is cleared."
"Foundation instability?" Juny screamed, stepping out onto the sidewalk, her hands clenching into fists. "This building has stood here since 1920! The wall has a slight lean, but it’s solid stone! You're lying! Your brother works for Vanguard!"
Vance didn't look at her. He walked up to the brick facade and used the red stapler to drive four thick steel staples through the laminated sign, securing it directly over her painted name.
CONDEMNED BY ORDER OF THE CITY OF CHICAGO IMMINENT HAZARD - DEMOLITION SCHEDULED IMMEDIATELY
Marcus and two Hawthorne guards stepped out from the bakery van across the street, their hands moving inside their jackets as the police officers drew their batons. The tension on Holloway Street was a ticking bomb; a single move from Damian's men would start a riot with the city police.
"Marcus, don't!" Juny shouted, turning to face the guards. "If you shoot at the police, they'll arrest everyone! They'll destroy the shop anyway!"
"We have our orders, Miss Alvarez," Marcus said, his teeth grit tight. "The boss said the bulldozers do not touch the brick."
"I am the boss of this shop!" Juny roared, stepping between Marcus and the line of police officers. "Get back in the van! I will handle this myself!"
She turned back to Inspector Vance, her face pale but her eyes blazing with an unshakeable fury. "You think you've won because you have a city stamp, Vance? You tell your brother that I have six hundred dollars in my account, but I have a telephone line that connects directly to the federal attorney's office. My family might not have money, but my uncle is a retired court reporter in Springfield, and he knows exactly how many city inspectors take envelopes from Vanguard Holdings."
It was a bluff—a massive, reckless bluff—but Vance paused for a fraction of a second, his pen hovering over his clipboard.
Before he could answer, a black sedan tore down the street, braking hard right next to the bulldozer. Damian Vale stepped out, followed by a middle-aged woman wearing a sharp gray pantsuit and carrying a heavy leather briefcase.
"Inspector Vance," the woman said, her voice sounding like a legal brief being dropped on a marble floor. "I am Evelyn Cross, chief legal counsel for Vale Logistics. I am serving you with an immediate federal injunction issued by Judge Harrison of the Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals. The demolition order is stayed pending a full forensic audit of Vanguard Holdings’ acquisition records."
She handed Vance a thick packet of paper bearing the golden embossed seal of the federal court. "Furthermore, we have filed a formal complaint with the internal affairs bureau regarding your brother Arthur’s financial connection to the Marcone syndicate. I suggest you signal that bulldozer driver to turn off his engine before I include his commercial license in the conspiracy indictment."
Vance’s face turned an ugly, mottled gray. He looked at the federal seal, then at the police officers behind him, who were already lowering their batons as they realized the situation had escalated far beyond a standard municipal eviction.
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"This isn't over, Vale," Vance hissed, tossing his clipboard into the front seat of his car. "Marcone owns the city council. A federal judge can't stay a local structural order forever."
"He doesn't have to stay it forever, Inspector," Damian said, stepping close enough that his shadow completely covered the man's face. "He only has to stay it until midnight. By then, your city council friends will be too busy looking for bail money to worry about a bakery."
