Chapter 5 - The War Room
At 2:00 PM, my senior inner circle gathered in the soundproofed underground conference room beneath the estate’s wine cellar.
Present were Daniel Russo, my chief of security; Michael Grant, acting as medical director; Marco Rossi, my primary legal counsel; and Dominic "The Hammer" Vance, my head of street operations.
The atmosphere in the room was suffocatingly tense. On the large high-definition screens mounted on the wall, diagrams of Victor Kane’s corporate headquarters, his private residence in Lake Forest, and his secondary shipping offices along the river were displayed.
"Victor Kane operates through nineteen separate shell corporations registered in the Cayman Islands and Delaware," Marco Rossi explained, tapping his stylus against an electronic tablet. "On paper, he’s clean. He holds major real estate assets across Illinois, Indiana, and Wisconsin. But his primary liquidity line—nearly $80 million—is backed by secondary mortgages on those three Bennett Street warehouses."
"Which he doesn't legally own," I said, sitting at the head of the long steel table.
"If Claire Bennett produces the original land grant deed showing her father’s estate retained deep-water rights," Marco continued, "Victor Kane’s title is void. His loans will be called in by his creditors within forty-eight hours. He will be completely ruined, facing federal bank fraud and forgery charges."
"Which is why he needs her dead," Dominic Vance growled. Dominic was fifty-two, built like an iron safe, with scar tissue running through his left eyebrow. He had served my father for twenty years before transferring his loyalty to me. "Kane knows he can't fight us openly, so he used a traitor inside our security team to try to quietly slip her a fatal dose."
"Where is Thomas Miller?" I asked, looking at Daniel.
"We tracked his cell signal to a motel near O'Hare Airport two hours ago," Daniel replied, his eyes dark with promise. "He’s waiting for a flight to Costa Rica that leaves at midnight."
"Bring him in," I ordered. "Quietly. Do not use local police. Do not leave a paper trail. I want Miller sitting in the basement of Warehouse Four before sunset."
"Understood, boss."
I looked at the primary screen displaying Victor Kane’s Lake Forest mansion. "Victor thinks he played this carefully. He thinks Claire died last night or is currently in a coma, unable to speak. He thinks we're running around in circles trying to figure out how Miller breached our security."
"So what's the play, Adrian?" Michael asked, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Do we take him down legally through Marco's court filings, or do we handle it the old-fashioned way?"
I stood up, walking toward the glass wall that displayed a map of Chicago’s industrial district.
"Neither," I said softly. "If we hit him with legal filings, his attorneys will drag this through appellate courts for ten years while he hires more hitmen to target Claire and Lily. If we kill him in his bed tonight, his estate goes to his junior partners, and the Bennett Street properties will remain tied up in probate forever."
I turned around, looking at my men.
"We are going to execute a complete, systematic liquidation of Victor Kane's existence. We will strip his money, expose his crimes, dismantle his legal defense, and force him onto his knees on the very ground where David Bennett died."
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"He has forty private security guards at his Lake Forest estate," Dominic warned, a mean smile spreading across his weathered face. "Many of them ex-military."
"Then tell our men to pack heavy," I replied quietly. "Because tonight, we remind Chicago what happens when someone touches a child under the protection of the Moretti name."
