Chapter 7 - The Gap in the Privet
The storm hit Chicago on a Thursday evening, bringing forty-knot winds off Lake Michigan that tore down power lines across the northern suburbs.
At 7:15 PM, the estate's main generator flickered and died.
Inside the kitchen, Elena was lighting emergency candles while Maya sat at the table, drawing a picture of the baseball diamond. Tommy was standing by the back door, staring out into the roaring dark.
"Something's wrong," Tommy said suddenly.
Elena looked up from the candle. "It's just the storm, honey."
"No," Tommy insisted, pointing out the window. "The perimeter lights by the gate aren't blinking. And the guards aren't on the porch."
Before Elena could answer, the glass of the back door exploded inward.
Two men in black tactical gear breached the kitchen, their silenced submachine guns raised. Elena screamed, shoving Maya behind her as one of the men grabbed her by her hair, slamming her against the counter.
"Keep your mouth shut if you want the kid to live!" the lead gunman barked, pulling a pair of heavy zip-ties from his vest.
Tommy lunged at the man's leg, biting hard through his thick pants. The gunman swore, backhanding the nine-year-old boy across the room. Tommy crashed into the wooden table, going limp on the floor.
"Tommy!" Maya shrieked.
"Get them out through the hedge gap!" the gunman ordered his partner. "Marcus has the boat waiting at the docks! Move!"
They dragged Elena and Maya out into the blinding downpour, forcing them through the muddy gap in the privet hedge toward a waiting black van idling on the dirt road.
From the dark upper balcony of the main house, Luca saw it all through a pair of thermal night-vision goggles.
Mateo rushed up behind him, his handgun drawn. "Boss! They cut the power lines and bypassed the outer perimeter guards! There are at least eight hitmen on the grounds!"
Luca didn't answer. He didn't reach for his wheelchair.
He reached into his desk vault, pulled out a heavy matte-black SIG Sauer 9mm pistol, racked the slide with a crisp CLACK, and stepped straight down the stairs.
His gait was uneven. He walked with a heavy limp, his left leg dragging slightly, but he moved with terrifying, purposeful speed.
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"Luca!" Mateo gasped, staring in utter disbelief as his boss walked past him on his own two feet. "Your legs—"
"Get the men," Luca ordered, his voice echoing through the dark hall like a thunderclap. "They have my daughter."
