Chapter 4 - The Exchange
By Friday night, the rain had returned to the city with a vengeance, turning the streets of the South Side into slick, dark mirrors reflecting the amber glow of streetlights.
An abandoned rail yard off 47th Street sat shrouded in darkness. Massive rusty shipping containers were stacked three high, forming narrow, maze-like alleyways filled with pools of stagnant water.
Detective Marcus Vance stood beside his unmarked silver sedan, shivering inside his heavy leather jacket. A half-smoked cigarette dangled from his mouth, his eyes darting nervously toward the entrance of the rail yard. He had a heavy service revolver tucked into his waistband, his fingers twitching against his thigh.
He was strung out, his body craving the white powder he had failed to secure earlier that week.
At exactly 10:00 p.m., a single set of bright headlights illuminated the dark alleyway. A massive, black armored SUV drove slowly over the gravel, coming to a stop twenty feet from Vance's sedan.
The engine cut out. The headlights remained on, blinding Vance.
Marcus shielded his eyes with his hand, his teeth grinding in irritation. "Fiona! Is that you?! Step out of the car with the bag!"
The driver's side door opened.
A tall, broad figure stepped out into the pouring rain. It was not Fiona.
Alessio Romano stood six-foot-three in a long dark cashmere trench coat, completely unbothered by the rain soaking his dark hair. He walked slowly toward the front of the SUV, stopping just inside the glare of the headlights.
Marcus’s jaw dropped, his hand instantly dropping to the butt of his service weapon. "Who the hell are you?"
"I am the man who pays Fiona's salary," Alessio said smoothly, his voice carrying easily over the sound of the wind. "And you are Marcus Vance... a remarkably stupid man who made the fatal mistake of threatening my household."
Marcus let out a nervous, harsh laugh, pulling his badge from his belt and holding it up. "Listen to me, mobster! I'm a decorated Chicago detective! If you don't have my two hundred grand in that truck, you're going down for interference with an officer!"
Alessio didn't even blink. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a heavy leather pouch, and tossed it onto the wet hood of Vance's sedan. It landed with a loud, metallic thud.
Marcus frowned, stepping forward to unzip the pouch.
Inside was not cash. It was a digital hard drive and a stack of printed bank statements detailing every offshore account Marcus Vance had used to launder his stolen narcotics money over the past three years—along with high-resolution photographs of Vance selling liquid fentanyl to street gang leaders.
Marcus’s face turned white as paper. "Where... where the hell did you get this?"
"I own the banks you used in the Caymans, Detective," Alessio said softly, taking two slow steps toward him. "And I own the state prosecutor who handles your precinct. By eight o'clock tomorrow morning, every federal agency in this state will have a copy of these files. You will not be going to a comfortable minimum-security prison. You will be going to Stateville... where every man you wrongfully put away will be waiting for you in the yard."
Marcus’s eyes went wild with pure, desperate panic. "You think you can ruin me?! I'll kill you right here! I'll tell them it was self-defense!"
Marcus yanked his service revolver from his waistband, raising the barrel toward Alessio's chest.
Before his finger could even touch the trigger, two dark shadows detached themselves from the darkness behind the shipping containers.
Dominic moved with terrifying speed for a man his size. He grabbed Marcus's gun hand, twisting his wrist with a sickening CRACK. Marcus shrieked in agony as the revolver clattered uselessly onto the wet gravel.
The second guard kicked Marcus behind the knees, forcing the corrupt cop down onto his joints in the mud.
Alessio walked over, standing directly over the weeping, groaning detective. He picked up the dropped revolver, casually popped the cylinder open, emptied the bullets onto the ground, and dropped the empty metal frame into the mud at Vance's feet.
"You took her career," Alessio said, his voice dropping into a register of pure, unadulterated venom. "You destroyed her reputation. You attempted to extort her while she was caring for my son."
Alessio leaned down, grabbing Vance by his wet collar and pulling him up until their faces were inches apart.
"If you ever speak her name again," Alessio whispered, "if you ever look in the direction of Lake Forest, if you even breathe the same air as Fiona Bennett... I will not hand you over to the feds. I will give you to Dominic. Do you understand me?"
Marcus nodded frantically, blood dripping from his nose, weeping in pure terror. "Yes! Yes! I swear to God! I'll leave town! I'll never come back!"
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Alessio shoved him back into the mud with disgust. He wiped his hands with a white silk handkerchief, tossing the stained cloth onto Vance's face.
"Get him out of my sight," Alessio commanded, turning his back and walking calmly back to his armored SUV. "And make sure the federal prosecutor gets those files tonight."
