Chapter 7 - The Midnight Run Through the West Side
The Mercedes AMG was doing ninety down Lake Street, tires throwing up rooster tails of dark, greasy water against the concrete barriers of the el tracks.
The dashboard display flashed a low-fuel warning, but I didn't care.
My phone buzzed in the console cup holder.
I glanced down.
An unknown caller ID.
I hit speakerphone with one hand while downshifting into third gear to round a sharp corner near Garfield Park.
“Vitelli.”
“Mr. Vitelli?” a shaky, high-pitched voice answered. It wasn't Nico. It wasn't Salvatore.
It was Sister Beatrice.
“Sister. Speak.”
“You need to hurry. There are men outside. Two large black SUVs parked across the street from the playground. They asked the night watchman if anyone had visited the girls’ dormitory after hours.”
My foot went down another inch on the accelerator. The engine roared, pushing the speedometer past one hundred.
“Did they enter the building?”
“Not yet. Brother Thomas locked the iron security gates from the inside, but the deadbolts won't hold against a hydraulic ram. Mr. Vitelli, what is happening? Who are these people?”
“They are men who settle family business,” I said. “Is Sophia with you?”
“She’s in my private quarters behind the chapel. I gave her a cup of chamomile tea and my rosary beads to hold. She kept asking when her real daddy was coming back to take her home to the big house with the red door.”
“Tell her I’m pulling into the alley right now.”
I killed the headlights two blocks before St. Margaret’s, letting the Mercedes coast in neutral down the dark, potholed brick lane behind the church.
The old brick walls of the orphanage loomed against the sulfur-orange glow of the Chicago skyline like a medieval fortress under siege.
As I turned the corner into the rear courtyard, I saw them.
Two Ford Explorers idling by the coal chute.
Four men in black tactical gear were standing near the side door, one of them holding a heavy hydraulic spreader against the steel panic bar.
May you like
I didn't brake.
I aimed the heavy front bumper of the Mercedes directly at the rear quarter-panel of the lead Explorer and hit the gas.
