Chapter 7 - AMBUSH AT PIER NINE
Night fell over the shipping terminal like a black velvet curtain. The icy winds of Lake Michigan howled through rows of towering rusted cargo containers.
Roman, Leo, and Mara walked down the narrow corridor between two storage tiers toward Locker 402. Cal had checked the perimeter and found no spotters, which only made Roman more cautious.
“Silvio isn't a dock boss,” Roman whispered, his arm instinctively guiding Mara close to his side. “He’s a boardroom thief. He works in shadows.”
Mara inserted the bronze token into the heavy industrial locker. The thick steel door groaned on rusty hinges and swung outward.
Inside sat a small, battered metal document strongbox. Roman lifted it out, setting it atop an overturned wooden crate. Using the tarnished silver key from Michael DeLuca’s wall, he twisted the lock.
Inside lay a thick, yellowed adoption dossier from 1996, stamped with a private adoption agency seal in Columbus, Ohio. Attached to the front was a recent color photograph of a young woman in her late twenties, with the unmistakable high cheekbones and dark, expressive eyes of the DeLuca family.
“Clara,” Leo breathed, his hand hovering over the picture. “She’s an art teacher. Look at her jacket—she has paint on her cuffs.”
“She’s in Evanston,” Roman said, reading the updated investigator report. “Silvio kept tabs on her to make sure she never realized who her biological family was. He’s been paying off the adoption agency director every Christmas.”
“Touching family reunion,” a voice sneered from the darkness.
Silvio stepped out from behind a refrigerated shipping container, flanked by four armed private security guards. In Silvio’s hand was a heavy silver automatic, held with casual, practiced indifference.
“I knew your little house-sitter was more trouble than she was worth,” Silvio said, his eyes flicking coldly to Mara. “I tore apart the entire foyer wall, Roman. Nothing. The old man told me on his deathbed that Helena left a trail, but he didn't know where she hid the key. You did my work for me.”
Leo stepped forward, his eyes burning with fury. “You sold our sister, Uncle. You stole our mother’s life and put her in a home like a discarded dog!”
“Your mother was soft!” Silvio spat, the refined facade cracking to reveal the ugly greed underneath. “She would have given the company assets to clinics and charities. Michael knew it, and I knew it. DeLuca Freight belongs to men of ambition, not sick little girls and weeping mothers.”
“Put the gun down, Silvio,” Roman commanded, stepping directly in front of Mara, shielding her completely with his broad frame. “Cal has this pier surrounded by federal marshals. You were so busy tracking my car that you didn't notice the audit team seizing your offshore accounts two hours ago.”
Silvio laughed, a sharp, bitter bark. “You bluff just like your grandfather. But there are no marshals here, Roman. Only my men. Hand over that box, and maybe I let you and Leo walk out of here alive. The girl, however, stays.”
Mara didn't shrink. Peeking around Roman’s shoulder, she held up her phone, the screen glowing bright green in the darkness.
May you like
“You’re right, Silvio,” Mara said smoothly. “There aren't any marshals here yet. But there are currently twelve thousand members of the Chicago Shipping and Logistics Union listening to you on the live dispatch intercom channel that Roman tapped into ten minutes ago. Oh, and Aunt Nora is on line two. She says she’s cutting you out of the family trust and she’s going to personally burn your tailor-made suits.”
Silvio’s face drained of color as the harbor siren began to wail in the distance.
