Chapter 8 - The Midnight Run to Fourth Avenue
The subterranean passage beneath the Russo estate was cold, narrow, and smelled of damp earth and river water.
Julia carried Ava in her arms, wrapping the girl inside a thick woolen trench coat Adrian had provided.
Ahead of them, Adrian walked with silent, lethal precision, an assault rifle held across his chest.
Behind them, Vance marched with his service weapon pressed against the base of Daniel Cross's neck.
Cross stumbled repeatedly over the uneven stone flooring, his breath coming in ragged, terrified gasps.
"You're walking into an ambush, Russo," Cross pleaded, his voice echoing softly against the dripping brickwork.
"Harlan has spotters at every transit hub in the county."
"The Fourth Avenue terminal is surrounded by city cameras."
"The moment you step foot on that concourse, they will execute everyone."
Adrian did not even turn around.
"Then I will leave a trail of dead officers from the concourse to City Hall," Adrian replied, his voice dead and emotionless.
After ten minutes of hurried marching, the tunnel ended at a heavy iron grate set into the foundation of an abandoned warehouse.
Adrian pushed the grate open with a sharp heave of his shoulder.
Inside the shadowed garage sat an unmarked, heavily armored black sedan with tinted windows.
"Get in the back, Julia," Adrian instructed, opening the heavy rear door for her and Ava.
Julia slid onto the leather seat, pulling Ava onto her lap.
Ava clung to Julia's neck, her small heart hammering against Julia’s ribs.
"Julia?" Ava whispered into the dark interior of the vehicle.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Is my mommy really waiting at the lighthouse?"
Julia felt a lump form in her throat so large it was painful to swallow.
She looked at the little girl, whose entire childhood had been stolen by greed and corruption.
"We're going to find out, Ava," Julia promised, stroking the child's damp hair.
"Your daddy and I are going to find out the truth."
Vance shoved Cross into the front passenger seat, cuffing the officer's wrists securely to the grab handle above the door.
Adrian climbed behind the steering wheel, turning the ignition.
The powerful engine roared to life with a deep, muffled rumble.
Adrian clicked the remote visor control, and the warehouse roll-up door rattled open into the pouring rain.
The sedan surged forward into the slick, empty streets of the industrial harbor district.
The city was drowned in torrential rain and neon reflections.
Water swept across the windshield in violent sheets as the wipers worked frantically against the glass.
Police sirens wailed in the far distance, their distant lights painting the low-hanging clouds in pulses of crimson and sapphire.
Vance sat in the back next to Julia, constantly checking the side mirrors for tailing vehicles.
"How did you end up in Adrian's house, Julia?" Vance asked quietly over the drone of the tires on wet asphalt.
Julia stared out the tinted window at the blurred city lights.
"After my mother died in the fire, I couldn't afford college," Julia answered, her voice tight with grief.
"I worked domestic jobs across the city."
"Three weeks ago, an agency placed me at the Russo estate."
"They said Mr. Russo needed someone discreet to care for a traumatized child."
"It wasn't a coincidence," Vance said, shaking his head slowly.
Julia turned to look at him, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
"Your mother knew she was going to be killed, Julia," Vance explained softly.
"Before Harlan's men reached her apartment, Karen contacted me."
"She told me that if anything happened to her, I had to make sure you were steered toward the Russo family when the time was right."
"Karen knew that Adrian Russo was the only man in this entire state with enough money, firepower, and motivation to crush Harlan."
"She wanted you here because she knew you were the only person who could recognize her handwriting on that bowl."
Tears spilled silently down Julia's cheeks, dripping onto Ava's coat.
Her mother had not abandoned her.
Even in her final, terrifying moments on earth, Karen Bennett had laid a breadcrumb trail across eight years of misery.
She had orchestrated a reunion between the two broken families from beyond the grave.
Adrian took a sharp left turn onto Fourth Avenue, the tires gripping the slick pavement with a muffled squeal.
Ahead of them loomed the decaying, monolithic structure of the municipal bus terminal.
Built in the late nineteen-fifties, the building looked like a concrete bunker rising out of the urban decay.
Only two streetlights flickered in the cavernous drop-off lane.
The terminal was deserted at two in the morning, save for a few drifting shadows near the alleyways.
Adrian killed the headlights, coasting the heavy vehicle into a shadowed recess beneath the concrete overpass.
"Locker 214 is in the central baggage depot on the lower level," Vance said, checking his magazine.
"Cross stays in the car."
"No," Adrian said, turning his cold gaze to the trembling officer in the front seat.
May you like
"Cross walks with us."
"If Harlan has snipers in that terminal, Daniel will be the first body to catch the bullets."
