Chapter 6 - The Trap Sprung
Lorenzo didn't panic. He immediately pushed Beatrice behind a thick oak wine barrel, signaling Gino to take position near the base of the stairs.
"Bernardo," Lorenzo called out, his voice calm and resonant in the damp cellar. "You always were lousy at timing. You brought four men to a fight where you need forty."
"I brought enough men to pour twenty gallons of gasoline down the ventilation shaft, nephew!" Bernardo laughed maniacally through the speaker. "Frank Rossi sends his regards! He said to tell you that since you liked your rags-to-riches wife so much, you can both burn together!"
Through the brass ventilation grates near the ceiling, the sharp, pungent smell of gasoline instantly began to pour into the room, followed by the ominous hiss of liquid splashing against the stone walls above.
"Boss!" Gino shouted, his face tightening. "The steel door is reinforced! It will take ten minutes to breach with explosives!"
"We don't have ten minutes!" Beatrice said, her eyes racing around the cellar, instantly analyzing the architecture. She grabbed Lorenzo’s arm. "Lorenzo! The old wine press chute! It leads to the drainage creek behind the stables!"
Lorenzo looked at the far corner of the cellar, where a rusted iron hatch, used a century ago to dump crushed grape skins into the creek bed, sat half-hidden behind empty barrels.
"Gino, set a breacher charge on the main door timer to delay them!" Lorenzo ordered. "We use the chute!"
Gino pulled a block of plastic explosive from his tactical pouch, set a ninety-second digital timer on the cellar door, and sprinted back toward the corner.
Lorenzo slammed the rusted iron lever on the chute hatch. With a groan of protesting metal, the heavy iron plate swung open, revealing a steep, narrow stone tunnel slanting downward into pitch darkness. The cold smell of mud and fresh air rushed up to meet them.
"Go, Bea!" Lorenzo urged.
Beatrice didn't hesitate. She tucked her arms in and slid into the chute, disappearing into the dark. Gino went next, sliding in with his rifle held against his chest.
Lorenzo grabbed the red folder containing the evidence, tucked it inside his kevlar vest, and threw himself into the opening just as a bright fireball erupted at the top of the stairs, igniting the gasoline vapor in the upper room.
The slide was rough and fast, dropping them thirty feet through the earth before dumping them out into a muddy ditch surrounded by thick winter brush, fifty yards behind the mansion.
Above them, the windows of the Geneva mansion blew outward in a deafening roar of fire and shattering glass as the gasoline ignited fully.
Coughing and covered in mud, Lorenzo pushed himself up from the ditch, immediately grabbing Beatrice and pulling her to her feet.
"Are you hit?" Lorenzo demanded, scanning her frantically.
"I'm fine!" Beatrice gasped, wiping wet mud from her face. "Look!"
Through the trees, they could see three vehicles parked near the stables—Bernardo’s personal armored SUV and two chase cars. Bernardo himself was standing near the open door of his SUV, holding a satellite phone, watching the mansion burn with a victorious grin on his face.
"He thinks we're dead," Gino whispered, raising his rifle. "I can take him from here, Boss."
"No," Lorenzo said, reaching out and gently lowering Gino’s rifle barrel. "A bullet in a forest is too clean for Bernardo. I want him to walk into the Commission meeting thinking he owns Chicago—and I want to destroy him in front of every boss in the Midwest."
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Lorenzo looked at Beatrice, his eyes burning with a brilliant, terrifying light.
"Gino, get on the secure radio. Have Marco bring two fresh transports to the highway," Lorenzo ordered. "We have an appointment at the Italian Cultural Center at two o'clock."
