Chapter 7 - The Trap is Set
The exposure of Detective Miller ruined the Valenti family's legal shield. The FBI launched an immediate federal grand jury investigation into the syndicate’s Cicero operations, freezing their bank accounts and seizing three shipping vessels at the port.
Vittorio Valenti was desperate. He was hiding in a luxury penthouse in the River North district, his health failing, his empire crumbling around him.
"We need to strike the head of the snake," Vittorio told his remaining capos. "Marco Leone thinks he’s won because the public loves the waitress. But the public loves a tragedy even more. We bait him. We use the one thing he loves more than his empire."
"The kid?" Leo asked.
"No, the kid is too well-guarded," Vittorio smiled, a gruesome sight showing his yellowed teeth. "The waitress. She has a sister, doesn't she? A sister who lives in the suburbs? Find her."
In Lake Forest, Clara received a phone call on the secure line Marco had provided. It was her younger sister, Lily, her voice hysterical with fear.
"Clara! There are men outside my house! They... they said if you don't come to the old train yard in Blue Island by midnight, they’re going to burn the house down with my kids inside! Clara, help me!"
The line went dead.
Clara felt the room spin. She dropped the phone, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
Marco walked into the room a second later, noticing her pale face. "Clara? What’s wrong?"
"They have Lily," Clara whispered, gripping his arms. "They have my sister and her kids, Marco. They want me to go to Blue Island tonight. Alone."
Marco’s jaw tightened until the bone looked like it would break through his skin. "It’s a trap, Clara. Vittorio knows he can't get to you here, so he’s drawing you out into the open."
"I don't care if it’s a trap!" Clara screamed, her voice cracking with despair. "That’s my sister! Those are my nieces! I survived a bullet for your daughter, Marco. Are you going to let my family die because you want to play safe?"
Marco stared at her, the words hitting him like a physical blow. He looked down at his hands, then at the portrait of his late wife hanging on the wall. He had lost his wife to a car bomb three years ago because he hadn't been fast enough, hadn't been ruthless enough. He looked back at Clara, seeing the fierce, beautiful fire in her eyes, and he knew he could not let her suffer the same fate.
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"We go," Marco said, his voice dropping into a register of cold, absolute certainty. "But you don't go alone. You go with the entire strength of the Chicago Outfit behind you."
He called Santino into the room. "Assemble the heavy squad. Every man we have left. We are going to Blue Island. And tonight, we end the Valenti family forever."
