Chapter 9 - The Road to Gary
The three black armored Cadillac Escalades tore through the sheet-like rain of Interstate 90 like three dark leviathans cutting through a stormy sea.
Their heavy V8 engines roared in unison, their custom reinforced bull-bars pushing aside the rising floodwaters along the industrial corridor.
The sky above was an impenetrable void of churning black clouds, split every few seconds by violent, blinding veins of purple lightning.
Inside the lead vehicle, Luca sat in the front passenger seat, an encrypted tactical tablet mounted to the dashboard in front of him.
Daniel Rossi was behind the wheel, his knuckles white as he navigated the hydroplaning asphalt at eighty-five miles per hour.
I sat in the reinforced leather bucket seat directly behind Luca, a heavy Kevlar vest strapped tightly over my woolen cardigan.
Dr. Harris had given me two painkillers before we departed, dulling the sharp, throbbing ache of the fourteen stitches in my arm.
On the bench seat beside me lay two tactical assault rifles, three extra ammunition magazines, and a trauma medical kit.
I had never held a weapon in my life.
I had spent my years folding sheets, dusting antique armoires, and calculating grocery budgets down to the last penny.
Yet as I watched the highway lights blur past the bulletproof glass, I felt no desire to turn back.
The man who had given me warm broth when my hands were cracked from winter bleach was bleeding in a cold clinic room.
And the man who had promised to protect my dying mother was sitting six inches in front of me, ready to burn a city to save him.
“Satellite feed is live, boss,” Daniel announced, tapping the dashboard screen.
The tablet illuminated, displaying a high-resolution thermal imaging feed of the Saint Jude Medical Pavilion in Gary.
The facility was a four-story, brutalist concrete structure situated on an isolated industrial bluff overlooking the toxic waters of Lake Michigan.
Surrounding the perimeter was an eight-foot chain-link fence topped with razor wire and guarded by two private security checkpoints.
“Aldo Bellini bought this clinic through a shell corporation five years ago,” Daniel explained, pointing at the glowing red silhouettes on the screen.
“Officially, it’s a private rehabilitation center for wealthy addicts.”
“In reality, it’s an off-the-books surgical facility where the Bellini family treats gunshot wounds without filing mandatory police reports.”
Luca leaned closer to the monitor, his dark eyes analyzing the thermal heat signatures with clinical, terrifying efficiency.
“How many guards on the ground, Daniel?” Luca asked.
“I count eight private security contractors patrolling the main parking lot,” Daniel reported, zooming in on the glowing human shapes.
“They are carrying standard sidearms and tactical shotguns.”
“Inside the fourth-floor private surgical wing, there are four additional heat signatures.”
“Two standing outside Room 402, one inside the room standing over the bed, and one seated at the nurses’ monitoring station.”
“That’s Julian,” Luca whispered, pointing a gloved finger at the tall, stationary silhouette standing directly beside the hospital bed.
“He’s waiting for the midnight deadline.”
“He thinks Aldo is going to arrive with the second key.”
“He doesn't know that Aldo is currently locked inside my subterranean wine cellar with twenty feet of reinforced concrete above his head.”
I leaned forward between the two front seats, staring at the glowing blue outline of the hospital building.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said softly, my voice cutting through the hum of the tires against the wet highway.
Luca turned his head, his dark eyes softening as he looked back at me.
“What is it, Sophie?”
“My aunt... my Aunt Clara worked as a night-shift custodial supervisor at Saint Jude three years ago,” I explained, my heart beating fast.
“Before the Bellinis bought the building, she used to take me there when my mother was hospitalized for her first surgery.”
Daniel glanced into the rearview mirror with a sharp, surprised look.
“You know the interior layout?” Daniel asked.
“I know the maintenance layout,” I corrected, pointing at the rear eastern corner of the digital blueprint.
“The main elevators and the primary central stairwell have biometric card readers that were installed during the Bellini takeover.”
“If you try to breach the front lobby, the magnetic locks will trigger on all fourth-floor doors automatically, sealing the surgical wing into an airtight bunker.”
Luca’s jaw set into an iron line.
“A lockdown system,” Luca muttered.
“Julian could execute Robert and exit via a private roof helipad before we could torch through the blast doors.”
“How do we bypass the magnetic seal, Sophie?” Luca asked, his voice filled with total, unhesitating trust.
“The medical waste incinerator chute,” I answered, tapping the screen where a narrow red conduit ran up the exterior eastern wall.
“It was built in 1965 when the hospital handled tuberculosis patients.”
“It leads from the basement boiler room straight up to the fourth-floor sterile prep room behind Room 402.”
“The incinerator was decommissioned ten years ago, but the maintenance access hatch remains.”
“A grown man can climb the internal iron service rungs inside the brick shaft.”
Daniel let out a low, admiring whistle.
“A blind spot right into their rear flank,” Daniel said, a predatory grin spreading across his scarred face.
“Their thermal sensors won't pick up movement inside the brick flue because the boiler exhaust pipes run parallel to it, masking body heat.”
Luca looked at me, reaching out with his gloved hand to gently squeeze my uninjured fingers.
“You are worth more than an entire army of caporegimes, Sophie Hayes,” Luca murmured softly.
A warm flush rose to my cheeks despite the terrifying reality of where we were heading.
The three Escalades suddenly veered off the interstate, descending the steep concrete off-ramp into the industrial wasteland of Gary.
The landscape was a nightmare of rusted steel mills, towering smokestacks belching gray sulfur into the rain, and abandoned rail yards.
The neon cross of the Saint Jude Medical Pavilion flickered through the sheets of falling water, glowing like a blood-red scar against the black sky.
Daniel killed the vehicle’s high beams, switching to infrared night-vision running lights as we approached the perimeter fence.
The two following Escalades fanned out, taking positions along the southern and western tree lines, ready to cut off any attempted escape.
Luca pulled a black tactical balaclava over his head, leaving only his piercing, predatory dark eyes visible.
He racked the slide of his suppressed combat pistol and picked up an extra tactical vest.
“Daniel,” Luca commanded.
“Team B and Team C will breach the main gates at precisely eleven-fifty-eight.”
“They will draw the perimeter guards into a loud, suppressive firefight in the parking lot.”
“While they are looking at the front doors, you and I will take the incinerator shaft from the boiler room.”
“Understood, boss,” Daniel said, checking his tactical wristwatch.
“Three minutes until zero hour.”
Luca turned back to face me in the darkened cabin of the SUV.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, sleek silver semi-automatic pistol—a compact .380 with a mother-of-pearl grip.
He placed the heavy, cold weapon gently into my right hand, closing my fingers around the textured grip.
“I pray to God you never have to pull this trigger, Sophie,” Luca whispered, his voice vibrating with absolute intensity.
“The safety is off. If anyone who is not wearing a Moretti crest opens this vehicle door, you aim for the center of their chest and you empty the magazine.”
“Do you understand me?”
I looked down at the lethal piece of machinery in my hand, feeling the weight of the underworld pressing against my palm.
I swallowed hard, looked into Luca’s dark, unblinking eyes, and nodded firmly.
“I understand, Mr. Moretti,” I said, my voice steady.
“Bring Robert back alive.”
Luca leaned forward, his gloved fingers brushing against my cheek one final time.
“On my life, Sophie,” he swore.
May you like
“I will bring him home.”
He kicked open the heavy armored door of the SUV and vanished into the pouring rain like a creature born of the night.
