Chapter 6 - The Trap in the Alley
The man turned his heavy head toward the opening door, the bright beam of his flashlight cutting through the falling snow, landing directly on Thea’s face and the small boy standing behind her.
"Hey!" the enforcer shouted, reaching inside his heavy leather coat for his weapon. "Where the hell do you think you're going with the kid?"
Thea didn't hesitate. She didn't scream, and she didn't retreat.
During her three years as an investigator at Harogate, she had taken self-defense training offered to corporate audit staff who worked late hours in high-crime districts. But more importantly, she possessed the sharp, instantaneous reaction of someone who had spent her childhood watching her police officer father handle armed suspects in tight spaces.
She grabbed the heavy iron fire extinguisher that hung on the wall beside the pantry door, pulled the safety pin with a violent jerk of her thumb, and slammed the heavy brass nozzle out through the narrow opening.
A massive, roaring cloud of white chemical powder erupted directly into the enforcer's face.
The man gagged, blinded and choking, stumbling backward into a deep snowdrift, his revolver slipping from his numb fingers into the white powder.
"Run!" Thea yelled—not to Gabriel, who couldn't hear her, but grabbing his small arm with a force that lifted him off his feet, dragging him out through the narrow door into the alleyway.
They sprinted through the deep, powdery snow, the freezing wind stinging their faces. Behind them, the pantry door slammed open as a second guard shouted into a radio handset.
They reached the iron gate at the end of the alley. Parked beside the curb, its engine idling silently with dark exhaust floating into the winter air, was Casper's black Mercedes sedan.
The rear door opened from the inside.
Gus Kovak reached out his arm, grabbed Gabriel by his sweater collar, and lifted the boy smoothly into the leather interior. Thea tumbled in right behind him, slamming the heavy door shut just as three gunshots echoed through the narrow alleyway, the bullets thumping harmlessly against the reinforced steel quarter-panels of the armored vehicle.
"Drive, Frankie," Gus said calmly to the driver.
The Mercedes surged forward, its heavy winter tires gripping the icy pavement, accelerating smoothly away from Lake Shore Drive onto Michigan Avenue.
In the back seat, Gabriel sat between Thea and Gus, his small chest heaving, his dark eyes wide with adrenaline. He looked at Thea, then reached out his small hand, touching the bulge in her inner coat pocket where the ledger rested safely.
He raised his fingers and signed to her, his movements small and precise:
WE WON?
May you like
Thea looked at the boy, then at Gus, who was calmly reloading his blue-steel revolver from a small leather pouch in his pocket.
"Not yet, Gabriel," Thea whispered, her hand resting over her pocket. "Not until the judge reads the last page."
