Chapter 5 - MIDNIGHT AT BLOOMINGTON
Adrian let Dean drop to the frozen metal floor plates like a sack of discarded wet laundry.
Salvatore Ramos.
The revelation struck Adrian with the cold weight of lead.
Salvatore was not merely a soldier in the Moretti syndicate; he was Adrian’s second cousin and the supervisor of their interstate logistics hubs.
Salvatore had sat at Adrian’s Thanksgiving table two months ago.
He had poured wine for Adrian’s mother and sworn an oath of allegiance when Adrian assumed control of the family six years ago.
Now, Ramos was taking corporate kickbacks from Jonathan Mercer to betray both the syndicate and an innocent federal witness.
Adrian grabbed the discarded tactical baton from the floor, clicked the locking mechanism shut, and jammed it into his coat pocket.
He snatched Dean’s secure radio from his belt clip, switching off the GPS beacon before it could ping their exact carriage.
"Move," Adrian commanded Emily, his voice brooking no argument.
He punched the four-digit bypass code into the brass electronic keypad of carriage two.
The sleeper car door slid open with a soft, mechanical hiss, welcoming them into the quiet, carpeted corridor.
Adrian guided Emily into Compartment B, locking the heavy mahogany door and sliding the privacy latch into place.
Emily leaned against the small washbasin counter, her chest heaving as she stared at Adrian in complete disbelief.
"You... you broke his arm with one hand," she whispered, her eyes wide with shock.
"He will survive," Adrian answered coldly, drawing the heavy privacy curtains across the double window panes.
"Who is Salvatore Ramos?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"He is a dead man who does not know it yet," Adrian answered without looking at her.
He pulled his encrypted satellite phone back out and dialed Dominic Vance’s secure line.
Dominic answered immediately.
"Adrian, where are you?"
"Carriage two, private compartment B," Adrian replied.
"Salvatore Ramos took the money from Mercer."
Dominic let out an audible, horrified curse over the receiver.
"Salvatore? Adrian, he controls the south rail interchange and our warehouse security teams."
"I know what he controls," Adrian said, his voice dropping into absolute stillness.
"Which means the Bloomington station platform is already compromised."
"Listen to me carefully, Dominic."
"Mercer didn't just send Marcus Vale to track Emily Carter."
"He coordinated with Salvatore to have local transit authorities and private security waiting at the Bloomington terminal."
"They will board the train under the pretext of investigating an assault in coach four."
"They will take Emily into custody, hand her to Mercer’s private extraction team, and pin Dean's injuries on me."
"How much time do we have before Bloomington?" Dominic asked.
"Seven minutes," Adrian replied, checking his chronograph watch.
"What are your orders?"
"Bring two untracked utility vehicles to the gravel switchyard two miles north of the main platform," Adrian commanded.
"Do not use our standard drivers; bring only your brother and your eldest nephew."
"If anyone questions your departure from the Chicago compound, silence them."
"Understood, boss."
Adrian ended the call and turned to face Emily.
She was sitting on the edge of the lower sleeper bunk, her head buried in her hands.
"This is never going to end," she murmured, her voice muffled by despair.
"Mercer has billions of dollars."
"He has judges, transit police, and now your own family members on his payroll."
"He is going to destroy that video evidence, leak the edited tape, and kill my father in Ohio."
"I should have just signed the fraudulent certifications and kept my mouth shut."
Adrian stepped across the narrow cabin and stood directly in front of her.
He reached down, took her gently by the elbows, and pulled her upward until she was standing on her feet.
His grip was firm, yet completely devoid of the violence she had experienced yesterday.
"Look at me, Emily," Adrian ordered softly.
She lifted her tear-stained face, meeting his dark, unyielding gaze.
"You chose to tell the truth against a man who thought his wealth made him a god," Adrian said.
"That does not make you a victim."
"That makes you a woman with a spine."
"And as long as you are standing beside me, Jonathan Mercer will not touch a single hair on your father's head."
A spark of life returned to her hazel eyes, cutting through the thick fog of terror.
"Why are you doing this for me?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
"You don't know me."
"I am a stranger who ruined your quiet train ride."
Adrian let out a slow, dry breath that sounded almost like a laugh.
"Because Mercer broke the oldest rule in my world."
"He brought violence into my territory, he bribed my family, and he targeted an innocent man in his own home."
"In Chicago, we call that a death sentence."
The train’s air brakes suddenly hissed with immense pressure, the carriage lurching forward violently as the engine began decelerating.
The yellow warning lights of the Bloomington railway switchyard flickered through the thin seams of the window curtains.
May you like
"We are not stopping at the platform," Adrian said, grabbing Emily’s hand.
"We are getting off right now."
