Chapter 4 - The Black SUV
The rain was coming down in thick, vertical sheets when the armored matte-black SUV slid out of the estate’s underground garage.
Hannah sat in the executive rear seat, her purse clutched tightly in her lap. Up front, Frank—a broad-shouldered man in his fifties who had driven for the Vitali family for two decades—kept his eyes locked on the dark ribbon of suburban highway stretching out toward Chicago.
Maximus sat on the leather bench beside Hannah, his massive head resting heavily on her knee. His presence was comforting, a warm, muscular anchor in a world that had suddenly turned terrifyingly surreal.
"Mr. Vitali sent the dog with us?" Frank asked, looking into the rearview mirror.
"He told Maximus to get into the car," Hannah said softly. "The dog didn't even hesitate."
Frank let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Max doesn't like anybody, Miss Collins. I’ve seen him bite a regional captain’s hand for reaching into the front window too fast. If he’s sitting on your lap, you’re either family or a holy miracle."
Hannah looked out the tinted window at the passing streetlights, their yellow glows blurred by the streaming water. "Frank... how long has Gabriel been working for Mr. Vitali?"
Frank’s smile vanished instantly. The hands on the steering wheel tightened slightly. "Fifteen years. Since the old man died in Miami. Why?"
"He looked nervous tonight," Hannah said.
"Gabriel is always high-strung," Frank replied carefully, his tone changing into something far more guarded. "He manages forty guys who all carry automatic weapons. It’s a stressful job."
"He hesitated before opening the pantry," Hannah noted. "Just for a second. But he knew."
"Miss Collins," Frank said, catching her eye in the mirror. "In our line of work, knowing things too early can get a man buried under a freeway bridge. You found a wire. Leave the politics to the boss."
Before Hannah could answer, her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was an unknown, encrypted number.
She answered it cautiously. "Hello?"
"Hannah," Aleandro’s deep, measured voice came through the speaker, crisp and clear despite the storm outside. "Are you near Oak Park?"
"Ten minutes away," she said.
"Good. Listen to me very carefully," Aleandro said. "The city technical team just pulled the first diagnostic reading off that black cable."
Hannah leaned forward, her chest tightening. "What is it?"
"It’s not an eavesdropping bug," Aleandro revealed. "It’s a high-frequency telemetry link. It’s feeding real-time digital structural data out of my basement."
"To where?"
"To a relay station located three blocks from your sister’s apartment building in Oak Park," Aleandro said calmly.
Hannah felt the blood drain from her face. "What?"
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"They aren't just watching my house, Hannah," Aleandro said, his tone turning into pure steel. "They were using your daughter's location as the regional data bounce point. They’ve been tracking you since the day you were hired."
Outside the tinted windows of the SUV, a set of bright halogen headlights suddenly lit up in the side mirror, closing fast through the rain behind them.
