Chapter 13 - The Chase Beneath Michigan Avenue
The subterranean freight tunnels beneath Chicago were built over a century ago to haul coal beneath the city streets.
Now, they were cold, cavernous conduits of concrete and iron, crisscrossed by high-voltage cables and roaring drainage pipes.
Water leaked steadily from the ceiling, splashing against the ancient narrow-gauge railway tracks embedded in the slime-covered floor.
The distant hum of city traffic drifted down through iron storm grates twenty feet above our heads.
I refused to stay behind.
The moment Matteo led Dr. Sullivan and me into the private freight corridor, I bolted from his side.
"Claire, stop! It’s an active war zone!" Matteo shouted behind me, but Dr. Sullivan grabbed Matteo’s arm.
"Let her go, Matteo," Sullivan urged with surprising grit.
"If that dog drops from exhaustion, Luca won't know how to save him."
"We are going together."
Matteo cursed violently in Italian, but he signaled two heavily armed Moretti guards to flank us as we sprinted down the concrete ramp.
Ahead of us, the echoes of Luca’s heavy footsteps and the sharp clicking of Rex’s claws reverberated against the arched tunnel ceiling.
The trail was unmistakable.
Fresh blood from Castiglione’s shattered wrist was smeared across the yellow painted warning stripes along the tunnel wall.
Castiglione had dropped his discarded tactical vest, soaked in sweat and panic, along with an empty magazine from his backup sidearm.
He was running for his life, driven by the primal terror of a man who knew the devil was walking right behind him.
Up ahead, the tunnel widened into the cavernous subterranean loading dock that bordered the Chicago River lock system.
The smell of rotting river water, gasoline, and damp autumn night air rushed into the tunnel.
A single black cigarette boat, equipped with twin thousand-horsepower inboard engines, bobbed violently against the concrete wharf in the black river swell.
Two armed Castiglione bodyguards were standing on the dock, desperately untying the heavy braided mooring lines from the iron cleats.
"Castiglione, move your fat ass!" one of the boatmen shouted up the access stairs.
"The Coast Guard will be swarming the river basin in five minutes!"
Suddenly, an enraged roar tore through the tunnel entrance.
Rex exploded into the loading bay like a guided missile wrapped in gray fur and vengeance.
He didn't slow down for the stairs; he cleared the top four steps in a single, magnificent leap, crashing directly into the first boatman.
The man went down hard against the steel diamond-plate decking, his automatic pistol spinning across the concrete and plunging into the river.
Before the second guard could raise his weapon, Luca stepped out from the tunnel archway and fired twice.
Both bullets struck the engine casing of the cigarette boat with metallic clangs, rupturing the fuel delivery system in a hiss of pressurized gasoline.
The boat was instantly disabled, stranded in the freezing current.
Castiglione stumbled out onto the concrete wharf, his ruined wrist wrapped in a torn silk napkin, his expensive tuxedo soaked in filth and river water.
He was sobbing, his gray hair plastered to his forehead by the cold rain blowing in from the open water basin.
He fell backward against the steel safety railing overlooking the black, churning river.
"Stay back! Luca, stay back!" Castiglione shrieked, clawing a small, stainless-steel pocket pistol from his trouser waistband with his left hand.
Luca did not break stride.
He walked steadily across the loading dock, his boots clicking with terrifying, metronomic cadence against the concrete.
"You tried to poison my family, Antonio," Luca said, his voice as calm and emotionless as the freezing water beneath them.
"You had Vanessa feed thallium to an old dog because you knew he would smell your cowardice."
"She wanted him dead, Luca!" Castiglione screamed, his left hand trembling so violently he could barely hold the little weapon.
"Vanessa came to me! She said you were weak!"
"She said you cared more about a four-legged animal than the future of the Five Families!"
"She was right," Luca replied, stopping five paces away.
"I do care more about him."
"He never betrayed me."
"He never took thirty pieces of silver to sell out his blood."
Castiglione suddenly swung his pistol toward Luca’s chest and pulled the trigger.
Click.
The chamber was empty.
In his blind terror during the sprint through the tunnels, Castiglione had dropped his magazine on the stairs.
The traitor looked down at the useless piece of metal in his shaking hand, his face draining of every drop of color.
Rex stood beside Luca, his chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths, his eyes fixed on the man who had brought him so close to the grave.
The dog’s silver muzzle was parted, his teeth gleaming under the harsh halogen floodlights of the loading dock.
He let out a single, low growl that resonated through the damp concrete walls.
"Rex," Luca murmured.
"Sit."
The thirteen-year-old German Shepherd sat down immediately on the cold concrete, his posture dignified, ancient, and unbreakable.
Luca raised his .45 and took aim at the center of Castiglione’s forehead.
"No, Luca! Wait!" a voice screamed from the tunnel entrance.
It was Dominic Falcone, flanked by six surviving High Commission captains, their faces pale, their suits covered in dust from the ballroom battle.
Falcone marched onto the dock, his breathing ragged, his hand raised to halt the execution.
"The High Commission has restored order upstairs, Luca," Falcone said, his voice trembling with authority and exhaustion.
"Castiglione must face the tribunal in New York."
"We need his financial records! We need the accounts for the offshore shell companies!"
Luca didn't turn around.
He kept his sight aligned between Castiglione’s weeping eyes.
"His records are on the flash drive in my pocket, Dominic," Luca stated coldly.
"His accounts belong to me now."
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"And the only tribunal this traitor answers to is sitting right beside my boots."
Silence descended over the subterranean dock, broken only by the slapping of black river water against the steel piers.
