Chapter 10 - The Ultimatum
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The burner phone on the workbench began to vibrate with a shrill, violent buzz.
Richard pulled back from the kiss, his eyes hardening instantly into obsidian shards.
He picked up the phone, clicking the speaker button with his thumb.
"Callahan," he barked.
A smooth, aristocratic laugh drifted through the tiny speaker, chilling the air in the garage.
"You're hard to kill, Ricky," Julian Moretti's voice purred.
"Just like your miserable father."
"If you call this number again, Julian, make sure you're picking out your cemetery plot," Richard replied coldly.
"Oh, I don't think so," Moretti laughed.
"You see, while you were playing hero in that burning shithole on the South Side, my associates took a little drive out to the suburbs."
Emily felt the blood drain from her face instantly.
"St. Jude Care Pavilion is such a lovely facility," Moretti continued, his voice dripping with venom.
"Room 214 has a very nice view of the garden."
"An elderly woman with limited mobility shouldn't be left alone near an open window, Callahan."
Emily grabbed Richard's arm, her fingernails digging deep into his skin as a silent scream caught in her throat.
"My mother," she mouthed, tears springing to her eyes.
Richard's expression didn't change, but a murderous aura settled over him that made the air feel fifty degrees colder.
"What do you want, Julian?"
"The tapes David Carter hid twelve years ago," Moretti snapped, the amusement vanishing from his voice.
"And the ledger."
"You bring them to the old shipping docks at Navy Pier by midnight tonight."
"Come alone, or my man in room 214 disconnects Clara Carter's oxygen line."
The line went dead with a sharp click.
Emily dropped to her knees, burying her face in her hands as hysterical sobs wracked her body.
"He's going to kill her," she wept.
"He's going to murder my mother like he murdered my father."
Richard swung his legs over the edge of the workbench, ignoring the violent tearing sensation in his freshly stitched wounds.
He stood up tall, towering over her like an avenging angel of death.
He knelt before her, lifting her chin with two fingers until she was forced to look into his terrifyingly calm eyes.
"Look at me, Emily."
She blinked through her tears, trembling.
"Nobody touches Clara Carter," Richard said, his voice absolute and unshakeable.
"Victor!" he roared.
The heavy metal door swung open, and Victor hurried into the room with a tactical tablet in hand.
"I already heard, Richard," Victor said grimly.
"Moretti has three men stationed in the parking lot of St. Jude's and one inside the north wing disguised as an orderly."
"Activate Strike Team Alpha," Richard commanded, standing to his full height.
"I want the perimeter secured in five minutes."
"Take them alive if possible, but put a bullet through anyone who steps within ten feet of Room 214."
"And what about Navy Pier?" Victor asked.
Richard picked up his heavy leather holster, slipping his arms through the straps with practiced ease.
"Julian wants a meeting at Navy Pier."
"We're going to give him a funeral."
Emily stood up, wiping the tears from her cheeks, her spine straightening with the same fierce resolve her father had carried to his grave.
"I'm coming with you to St. Jude's."
"No," Richard said firmly.
"It's too dangerous."
"She is my mother, Richard!" Emily fired back, stepping right into his chest.
"You might be the king of this city's underworld, but you don't get to tell me whether I protect my family."
Richard stared down at her for three long seconds, the ghost of a proud, lethal smile touching his lips.
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"Get her a vest," Richard told Victor.
"Let's go get your mother."
