Chapter 13 - The Secret of the Crimson Sunflower
The rain-slicked highway leading to the Chicago harbor terminal was completely deserted,
shrouded in a thick,
suffocating maritime fog that rolled in off the black lake waters.
Gideon drove his high-powered black coupe at blistering speeds,
the twin-turbocharged engine roaring like a caged beast in the night.
In his coat pocket,
his personal cell phone suddenly began to vibrate violently.
He pressed the speaker button on his dashboard display.
The calm,
distinguished,
yet utterly sinister voice of Senator Jonathan Croft echoed through the leather-trimmed cabin.
"Gideon,"
Croft spoke smoothly,
as though they were two old friends discussing business over dinner.
"You really are a remarkably difficult man to eliminate."
"Croft,"
Gideon replied,
his voice dangerously quiet,
"you should have stayed in Washington."
"Now you will die in the mud of Chicago."
Croft chuckled,
a cold,
arrogant sound that sent a chill through the air.
"You think this is merely about shipping docks and money,
don't you,
Gideon?"
Croft asked rhetorically.
"You think Viktor Vance hired that driver just to break your spirit?"
Gideon’s hands tightened around the steering wheel until his leather gloves creaked under the strain.
"Explain yourself,"
Gideon commanded.
"Your daughter Ren was not targeted by chance,"
Croft revealed,
his tone dropping into a matter-of-fact clinical explanation.
"Ren possessed an extraordinarily rare genetic blood marker—AB negative with zero antigens."
"A marker found in less than ten people across the entire globe."
Gideon felt his heart drop into a dark,
bottomless abyss.
"Why did you need her blood?"
Gideon choked out,
his throat dry as dust.
"Because my primary benefactor,"
Croft explained,
"Lord Alexander Montgomery,"
"a man who controls three major defense contractors in Europe,"
"suffers from a terminal degenerative marrow condition."
"Ren’s blood was the key to synthesizing a revolutionary cellular treatment that kept him alive."
"And when your little girl died,"
Croft added callously,
"we spent months searching for another match."
"Until my auditors found little Lily Sterling."
Gideon slammed his foot onto the brake pedal,
the tires screeching violently as the coupe slid to a halt right in front of the massive rusty iron gates of Dock 42.
The realization hit Gideon like a physical blow to the chest.
Viktor Vance and Senator Croft weren't just hunting the little girls because of a financial ledger.
They were hunting Lily because her blood was a commodity worth hundreds of millions of dollars to an international monster.
"You monsters,"
Gideon whispered,
a tear of pure,
unadulterated rage slipping down his scarred cheek.
"You treated innocent children like livestock!"
"It is simple biology,
Gideon,"
Croft said dismissively over the speaker.
"The strong consume the weak."
"And tonight,"
Croft declared,
"Dominic Antonio is delivering the final medical files from Vance’s vault directly to my freighter at Dock 42."
"If you come inside,"
Croft warned,
"you will only find your grave."
The line went dead.
Gideon unbuckled his seatbelt,
stepping out of his car into the freezing sea spray blowing off the harbor.
He reached into his trunk,
pulling out a heavy tactical vest,
two high-capacity assault rifles,
and six fragmentation grenades.
He strapped the vest across his chest,
locked a fresh magazine into his rifle,
and looked up at the towering silhouette of the industrial cargo ship docked at the pier.
"You took my daughter's life,"
May you like
Gideon vowed softly into the fog,
"and now I will take everything you have ever built."
