Chapter 7 - The Confrontation at the Marina
The rain had turned into a torrential downpour by the time Roman’s team emerged from the drainage outlet near the private industrial marina on the Chicago River.
Two armored transport trucks waited for them in the shelter of a loading dock, engines idling, headlights cutting through the sheets of gray rain.
“Get Mrs. Voss into the lead vehicle,” Roman instructed Donovan, wiping soot and rain from his forehead as he surveyed the perimeter.
“Where are we going?” Pamela asked, climbing into the warm leather interior of the armored SUV, her clothes damp and stained with dust from the bunker.
“We’re ending this,” Roman replied, sliding into the seat beside her and closing the heavy armored door. “Salvatore Moretti is scheduled to board his private yacht at the North Pier within the hour to flee the country before federal authorities pick up the encrypted data package Donovan just broadcasted to the Department of Justice.”
Pamela looked out the bulletproof window as the convoy accelerated onto the wet highway, heading north toward the lakefront.
“He destroyed my life,” Pamela whispered, her knuckles white as she gripped her hands in her lap. “He took my children and turned them into collateral in a criminal war.”
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Roman turned to look at her, the harsh amber streetlights flashing across his hardened features. For the first time, the cold, untouchable crime boss looked like a man who understood the exact weight of her grief—and her fury.
“When we reach the pier,” Roman said quietly, “Moretti is yours.”
