Chapter 4 - Into the Lion's Den
The industrial docks of South Chicago were pitch black,
shrouded in heavy fog and blinding rain.
The abandoned slaughterhouse stood like a rusting beast against the night sky,
its broken windows staring out like hollow eye sockets.
Water surged through the concrete drainage ditches surrounding the facility,
rushing toward the Chicago River with terrifying force.
Four black vehicles pulled into the dark alley two blocks away,
their lights turned off to avoid detection.
I stepped out into the mud,
adjusting my tactical vest,
flanked by twelve of my most elite operatives.
"Dominic,"
I said,
pointing to the perimeter map on a handheld tablet.
"You take Team A and seal the northern exit near the riverbank.
Nobody leaves that tunnel alive."
"Understood,
Boss,"
Dominic replied,
motioning for four men to follow him into the shadows.
"Julian,
you and Team B breach the main entrance of the slaughterhouse,"
I instructed.
"Create enough noise to draw Vance's outer guard detail.
I will go down into the subterranean drainage tunnels alone."
"Boss,
that's too dangerous,"
Julian protested.
"Vance's best killers are down there."
"My son is down there,"
I replied,
looking him dead in the eye.
"And no one stands between me and my son."
Julian fell silent,
nodding respectfully.
"Good luck,
sir."
Two minutes later,
explosions rocked the front of the slaughterhouse as Julian's team initiated the breach.
Gunfire erupted across the upper floor,
shattering glass and lighting up the darkness with bright muzzle flashes.
Using the distraction,
I slipped around the back of the building,
sliding down a wet mud embankment into the entrance of the primary drainage tunnel.
The stench of stagnant water,
rust,
and rot was overwhelming.
Water churned past my knees,
pulling against my legs as I waded deeper into the dark tunnel.
I clicked on my tactical flashlight,
sweeping the beam across the damp concrete walls.
Suddenly,
my light caught something on the wall.
A small,
hastily drawn mark.
It was an arrow,
scratched into the mossy brick with a sharp stone.
Beside the arrow was a tiny letter: 'L'.
Lucas.
He was leaving a trail for me,
just like I had taught him during our camping trips two years ago.
"Smart boy,"
I whispered,
a surge of pride swelling in my chest.
I followed the arrows,
moving deeper into the labyrinth of underground pipes.
Ahead,
the faint sound of harsh voices echoed off the curved walls.
"Search every pipe!"
a voice shouted in Spanish.
"Vance said if the kid reaches the river outlet,
we're all dead!
Find him!"
I pressed my back against the wet concrete wall,
switching off my flashlight.
Two men carrying heavy flashlights and submachine guns rounded the corner,
their beams cutting through the murky mist.
I waited until the first guard passed my position.
In one swift motion,
I stepped behind him,
drew my combat knife,
and slammed it into his neck,
pulling his body down into the water without making a sound.
Before the second guard could turn around,
I grabbed his weapon,
twisted his arm until the bone snapped,
and drove my silenced pistol into his chest.
Thwip.
Thwip.
The second guard collapsed into the rushing current.
I retrieved their radios,
listening to the panicked chatter of Vance's men.
"Unit Three,
report!
Did you find the boy?"
I clicked the talk button twice,
remaining silent.
"Unit Three,
what's happening down there?"
I dropped the radio into the water,
May you like
racking the slide of my firearm,
and plunged deeper into the pitch-black tunnels toward the sound of distant splashes.
