Chapter 13 - The Blackout on the Chicago River
The storm over Lake Michigan intensified into a torrential gale as our three-vehicle convoy cut through the deserted industrial sector.
Rain beat violently against the reinforced windshield of the black SUV, washing away the neon reflections of closed factories and rusted shipping cranes.
Beside me in the backseat, Luca checked the tactical feed on his ruggedized tablet, watching the streetlights suddenly blink out one by one along the riverbanks.
"She just bypassed the municipal breaker," Luca reported, his jaw set in stone.
"The entire 22nd Ward is going dark."
Outside the window, towering streetlamps flickered and died, plunging the docks and warehouse lanes into an impenetrable, ink-black darkness.
Only the high-powered searchlights mounted on our front bumpers pierced through the freezing mist.
"Marco just radioed from St. Jude’s," Luca continued, glancing at me.
"His unit reached Julianna’s mother three minutes before Cavallaro’s hit team arrived."
"The hospital is secure, and the extract team is in custody."
I let out a long breath of relief, resting my forehead against the cool glass.
"Now it’s just Vanessa and her extraction crew at the switching station."
"She’s desperate, Grace," Luca warned, reaching out to gently touch the edge of my arm brace.
"A wounded predator with nothing left to lose is ten times more dangerous than a calculated criminal."
"She broke my bones because she thought I was a powerless maid who would crawl away in fear," I said, turning to look at his dark eyes.
"She doesn't know who she was dealing with."
Our vehicle pulled up to the rusted chain-link fence of the terminal nine switching facility.
The building was a three-story monolith of weathered concrete and reinforced steel, humming with the faint electrical vibration of high-voltage transformers.
Two black Dodge Chargers were parked near the open service bay, their hazard lights blinking dimly in the rain.
The bodies of the two private city utility guards lay slumped near the gate shack, bound with heavy zip-ties but breathing.
"They didn't kill the municipal guards," Luca observed, sliding out of the car with his weapon drawn.
"Because Vanessa wants to pretend she was coerced by Cavallaro if she ever gets cornered by federal agents," I whispered, stepping onto the wet gravel behind him.
Six of Luca’s elite bodyguards moved silently through the open gate, fanning out in a wide diamond formation with suppressed tactical rifles.
The iron door to the transformer room hung ajar, its heavy magnetic latch scorched and melted by a thermal cutting torch.
Inside, the scent of burning copper wire and ozone hung thick in the chilly air.
Rows of blinking server racks cast ghostly blue and green lights along the concrete corridor.
From the far end of the long server bay came the frantic, rhythmic tapping of computer keys and the sharp click of high-heeled boots pacing on steel grating.
"She’s in the central control room on the catwalk," Luca whispered, signaling two men to flank the iron spiral stairs.
Suddenly, an overhead industrial speaker crackled to life with a deafening screech of feedback.
"I know you're in the building, Luca!" Vanessa’s voice echoed off the concrete walls, devoid of all aristocratic charm, sharp and venomous.
"And I know you brought your little servant girl with you!"
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"You always did have a pathetic weakness for the underdogs, darling!"
"Come up to the bridge alone, or I detonate the transformer cooling tanks and turn this entire sector into an inferno!"
