Chapter 5 - Parley in the Mud
The rain was a cold, unrelenting torrent as I stepped out through the side service door into the darkened courtyard.
Two hundred yards away, beyond the shattered wrought-iron gates, the red and blue emergency flashers of three black SUVs cut through the gloom. Figures in dark raincoats moved restlessly around the vehicles, automatic rifles held at the ready.
They were waiting for Marcus to give the order to storm the main house again.
They didn't know Marcus was currently screaming in agony in a concrete cell three floors beneath their feet.
I walked alone across the open gravel drive, ignoring the icy water soaking through my clothes, my hands tucked casually into the pockets of my coat.
A spotlight from the lead SUV snapped on, blinding me with a searing white glare.
"Hold it right there, Moretti!" a harsh voice barked through a megaphone. "Drop the weapon and walk back into the house with your hands on your head, or we turn you into Swiss cheese!"
I didn't stop. I kept walking until I was thirty paces from the front bumper of the lead vehicle, stopping right beneath the halo of the spotlight. I pulled my hands out of my pockets, leaving my gun holstered, and crossed my arms over my chest.
A tall man with a scarred nose and a heavy tactical vest stepped out from behind the passenger door, leveling an assault rifle at my sternum.
"You've got a lot of nerve walking out here by yourself, boss," the man sneered, spitting a stream of tobacco juice into the mud. "Where’s Marcus?"
"Marcus is currently indisposed," I said, my voice carrying clearly over the sound of the rain. "And unless you want to end up like the four men currently fertilizing my rose garden back there, I suggest you lower your weapon and listen very carefully."
The gunman laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "You think you scare us, Moretti? We’ve got fifty men coming up the access road right now. By sunrise, this house is ours."
"Fifty men?" I raised an eyebrow, pulling my encrypted satellite phone from my pocket and tapping the screen twice. "That’s funny. Because according to my financial dashboard, your payroll cleared approximately three minutes ago into an account that now reads zero."
The gunman’s smile faltered. He lowered his rifle slightly, looking confused. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about Vanguard Logistics," I said smoothly, taking a step closer. "Account numbers ending in 4409, 8812, and 1093. All frozen. All seized. All currently funding a new animal shelter on the North Side of Chicago."
The man’s face drained of color. He looked back at the driver of the SUV, who was frantically tapping away at a ruggedized laptop mounted on the dashboard.
"Boss," the driver shouted, his voice cracking with panic through the open window. "He's telling the truth! The accounts are locked! Our crypto wallets are empty! We've been wiped out!"
Silence descended over the courtyard, broken only by the steady hiss of the rain and the distant rumble of thunder.
The gunman stared at me, the bravado completely gone from his eyes, replaced by the primitive, crushing terror of a mercenary who realized he had just picked a fight with a ghost.
"You're a demon, Moretti," the man whispered, his rifle barrel slowly dipping toward the mud.
"No," I said, stepping right up to the barrel of his gun and pushing it down with two fingers. "I'm a father."
I leaned in close, my voice dropping into a register that made him shiver despite the cold rain.
"You have ten minutes to get your men back into those SUVs and drive out of Lake Forest," I commanded, every word an absolute, unyielding law. "If I see a single red taillight within five miles of my estate by sunrise, I won't just freeze your bank accounts. I’ll erase you from the census."
The gunman swallowed hard, nodded once, and scrambled back into the vehicle.
Within three minutes, the SUVs reversed into the mud, spun their tires, and tore down the access road into the night, disappearing as quickly as they had arrived.
I stood alone in the rain, my chest heaving, the adrenaline slowly fading from my veins.
May you like
The immediate threat was gone. But as I turned and looked back toward the dark, imposing silhouette of the mansion, I knew the real battle was only just beginning.
I had a war to finish. And four little boys upstairs who needed to learn what it meant to be a Moretti.
