Chapter 6 - The Marina Ambush
"Hold your breath!" Lorenzo commanded, pulling his shirt up over his nose and eyes.
Gunfire erupted at the top of the stairs. Heavy, automatic rounds tore into the wooden doors above us. Lorenzo grabbed the red ledger, stuffed it into my leather tote bag, and pulled me toward a narrow drainage tunnel at the back of the crypt that led out toward the riverbank.
"Can you crawl?" he barked through the smoke.
"I can do whatever keeps me alive!" I coughed, dropping to my hands and knees and squeezing through the low stone archway.
The tunnel was damp, cold, and smelled of river mud. Lorenzo crawled right behind me, his weapon drawn, firing two warning shots back into the smoke as shadowy figures began descending the stairs.
We burst out of the tunnel exit into the freezing night air near the Bell’Acqua Marina docks. The Chicago River churned dark and cold just ten feet below us. Rain was falling in heavy sheets, soaking through my clothes in seconds.
A sleek black yacht was docked thirty yards away at pier four. Standing on the wooden deck under the glare of industrial floodlights was Vittorio Moretti, wearing a long trench coat, surrounded by four heavily armed mercenaries.
"Lorenzo!" Vittorio’s voice boomed over the sound of the rain. "I knew your father's ghost would drag you to that crypt eventually!"
Lorenzo pushed me behind a steel shipping container on the dock, stepping out into the light with his gun trained directly on his uncle.
"You killed my father for a ledger you couldn’t even find, Vittorio!" Lorenzo yelled, his voice carrying over the rushing water.
Vittorio laughed—a dry, bitter sound. "Matteo was weak! He wanted to turn our business legitimate! He wanted to give up the shipping lines to the federal authorities! I built this empire, Lorenzo! I wasn't going to let your pathetic father hand it over to the government!"
"And my grandmother?" Lorenzo demanded, taking a slow step forward. "You kept her terrified in her own home for fourteen years!"
"She was an old fool who wouldn't keep her mouth shut!" Vittorio shouted, nodding to his men. "Kill them both. Throw the fat caterer into the river with the ledger, and make Lorenzo's death look like an accident."
Before the mercenaries could raise their rifles, a sudden beam of blinding light cut through the rain from the river.
A massive harbor police cutter rounded the river bend, its siren blaring as armed Coast Guard tactical officers lined the deck with heavy weapons trained on the yacht.
"VITTORIO MORETTI! THIS IS THE FEDERAL MARSHALS SERVICE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS IMMEDIATELY!"
Vittorio’s face twisted in sheer disbelief. He looked around wildly as three police cruisers, their red and blue lights flashing frantically, tore down the marina access road, blocking every exit.
May you like
"You called the Feds?" Vittorio screamed at Lorenzo.
"No," Lorenzo said, a cold, dangerous smile breaking across his face as he stepped back toward my shipping container. "My lawyer did. Ten minutes before we entered the church."
