Chapter 7
Z
We threw open the steel door and plunged into the dark freight elevator shaft just as the main doors of the warehouse below were kicked open with a thunderous crash.
"Clear the floor!" shouts echoed from the main bay, followed by the heavy, rhythmic thud of combat boots sweeping through the wooden crates.
I grabbed the heavy iron manual lever inside the elevator cage and shoved it downward with all my weight. The ancient cables groaned in protest, metal screeching against metal, before the platform lurched violently and began a slow, shuddering descent into the darkness below.
"They're on the elevator!" a voice yelled from above.
A hail of gunfire suddenly ripped through the wooden floorboards of the elevated office. Sparks flew as bullets struck the metal elevator shaft above us. Mara covered her ears, screaming as the deafening echoes bounced off the concrete walls.
The elevator slammed into the basement floor with a heavy, bone-jarring thud.
I threw open the iron accordion gate. "Out! Out!"
The basement was a vast, subterranean maze of damp concrete tunnels, built decades ago to haul coal and freight beneath the old industrial district. Water dripped from the low ceilings, forming dark pools on the uneven floor. The cold air smelled heavily of mildew and rot.
"Which way?" Mara panted, her flashlight beam dancing wildly across the stone arches of the tunnel.
"Away from the noise," I said, pointing down a long, narrow passageway that led deeper into the darkness. "These tunnels used to connect the old river docks. If we can reach the river outlet, we can get out behind their perimeter."
We sprinted through the dark, our wet shoes slapping loudly against the wet concrete. Behind us, the elevator shaft echoed with the sound of men shouting as they began taking the emergency stairs down to the basement.
We ran for what felt like an eternity, turning through winding passages, ducking under rusted pipes, and navigating by the faint beam of Mara's flashlight. The sounds of pursuit gradually faded into the distance, swallowed by the vast underground labyrinth.
Finally, the tunnel began to slope upward. The air grew fresher, carrying the sharp, cold scent of river water and mud.
At the end of the corridor, a heavy iron grate blocked the exit, secured by a rusted iron latch. Beyond the bars, I could see the dark, rushing waters of the Illinois River, illuminated by the faint glow of the distant city lights.
Mara threw her shoulder against the grate. It groaned, but held fast.
"Help me!" she gasped.
Together, we threw our combined weight against the iron bars. Rust flaked off in showering bursts, and with a sharp SNAP, the latch gave way. The grate swung open, tumbling us out onto the muddy, slippery bank of the river beneath an old concrete bridge.
We collapsed into the wet tall grass, gasping for air, shivering in the freezing wind that whipped off the water.
Far back up the hill, near the warehouse, red and blue lights were flickering through the fog, accompanied by the distant sound of wailing sirens. Local police or Thorne's private security—it didn't matter. We were outside their net for now.
Mara lay on her back in the mud, staring up at the dark, grey sky, her chest heaving. Tears washed clean tracks through the grime on her face.
"I can't do this, Irene," she sobbed softly, her voice broken and exhausted. "I'm fifty-three years old. I live a quiet life. I fix flowers for weddings and funerals. I don't belong in this nightmare."
I sat up in the mud, pulling my wet coat tight around my shoulders. My body ached in places I didn't know existed. My hands were scraped, my clothes ruined, and the life I had known for thirty-four years was completely obliterated.
I looked at Mara—the daughter my husband had kept a secret, the woman who had every right to hate me, yet had stayed by my side through a gauntlet of death and terror.
I reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were ice-cold.
"I know," I said gently, my voice trembling with empathy. "You didn't ask for any of this. Zane brought this fire to your doorstep, and I am so, so sorry."
Mara looked at me, her eyes wet with tears. "How are you doing this, Irene? Your whole marriage... your whole life was a lie. How are you not falling apart?"
A bitter, quiet smile touched my lips as I looked out over the dark river.
"Oh, I am falling apart, Mara," I whispered, the candor of the truth heavy in my throat. "I am broken into a thousand pieces. The man I loved didn't exist. The life I built was a house of cards. But right now... I am too angry to stop."
I squeezed her hand tightly.
"Zane spent his life running," I continued, looking directly into her eyes. "He ran from you. He ran from your mother. He ran from Victor Thorne. But I am not going to run anymore. We are going to finish this."
Mara stared at me for a long moment. Slowly, the terror in her eyes began to dim, replaced by a flickering spark of determination. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and sat up in the mud beside me.
"So..." Mara said, taking a shaky breath. "How do we get into a federal prison to see Arthur Vance?"
"We don't," I said, reaching into my bag and pulling out the leather ledger. I opened it to the back cover, where a small, handwritten phone number was scribbled in faded blue ink next to a name: Evelyn Vance.
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"Who is Evelyn?" Mara asked.
"Arthur Vance's sister," I said, holding up the book. "She's a defense attorney in Chicago. And if Zane kept her private number hidden in this book, she's the bridge we need."
