Chapter 8 - The Confrontation on Bennett Street
At 9:55 PM, four black Escalades pulled up to the abandoned industrial lot of Warehouse Four on Bennett Street.
The rain had reduced to a steady, freezing drizzle, washing over the rusted iron corrugated walls of the three massive warehouses that had stood along the river for over half a century.
The headlights of my convoy cut through the darkness, illuminating a single silver Mercedes sedan parked near the collapsed wooden loading dock.
Standing beside the sedan, wrapped in a long black wool overcoat, was Victor Kane.
He looked ten years older than he had three days ago in the downtown conference room. His hair was disheveled by the wind, his eyes sunken, his posture hunched against the cold. Two armed security guards stood behind him, their hands tucked inside their jackets, hovering nervously near their sidearms.
My door opened, and I stepped out into the rain.
Behind me, eight of my senior operators stepped out of the Escalades, holding tactical submachine guns at their sides, their eyes locked on Kane's guards.
Victor took two trembling steps forward, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Tell your men to stand down, Adrian! I came alone! I didn't bring enforcement!"
I walked slowly toward him, stopping ten feet away. "You brought two guards, Victor."
Victor turned his head, barking at his men: "Get back in the car! Move!"
The two guards didn't hesitate. They sprinted back into the Mercedes, closing the doors, leaving Victor standing completely alone in the freezing rain.
"Where is the deed, Adrian?" Victor begged, his voice cracking. "Where is David Bennett’s original land grant?"
I pulled a yellowed, plastic-sleeved document from inside my suit coat and held it up. The streetlights caught the old official seal of the City of Chicago from 1952, stamped over the signatures of David Bennett and the city land commissioner.
Victor’s eyes locked onto the paper with a feverish, desperate intensity. "Give it to me... name your price, Adrian! I'll sign over my forty percent share in the riverfront development! I'll give you $20 million in cash! Just give me that paper so I can clear my name with the bank syndicates!"
I looked down at the yellowed paper, then up at the man who had ordered the death of David Bennett twenty-two years ago, and had tried to murder his daughter and granddaughter twenty-four hours ago.
"This paper doesn't belong to me, Victor," I said softly. "And it certainly doesn't belong to you."
"Then who does it belong to?!" Victor screamed, stepping forward, his face contorted in rage. "Carmine and I built this city! We took the risks! David Bennett was a weak, stubborn fool who refused to move out of the way of progress!"
"It belongs to Lily Bennett," I said.
Victor froze, his mouth hanging open. "A... a three-year-old child?"
"A three-year-old child who walked into my bedroom at midnight," I told him, taking a step closer until I was standing directly over him. "A child whose father you murdered, whose mother you tried to poison, and whose inheritance you stole."
From the dark access road behind the warehouses, the sudden, deafening wail of police sirens echoed through the night.
Red and blue flashing lights cut through the rain, reflecting off the puddle-strewn pavement as eight federal law enforcement vehicles and three unmarked black SUVs rounded the corner, blocking every exit from the industrial lot.
Victor spun around, his face draining of all color as armed federal marshals and FBI agents poured out of their vehicles, rifles raised, tactical lights blinding him.
"VICTOR KANE!" a voice boomed through a megaphone. "DROP TO YOUR KNEES AND PLACE YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR ATTEMPTED CAPITAL MURDER, WIRE FRAUD, AND SECURITIES MANIPULATION!"
Victor turned back to me, tears mixing with the rain on his face, his body shaking uncontrollably. "Adrian... please... don't let them take me! You know what feds do to men like me in prison! Use your influence! Talk to the prosecutor!"
I reached out, pulled the brass key to my father's old safe from my pocket, and dropped it into Victor's coat pocket.
May you like
"Tell my father I said hello when you see him, Victor," I whispered.
I turned my back on him and walked toward my Escalade as four federal marshals slammed Victor Kane face-down onto the wet asphalt, clicking heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists.
