Chapter 8 - THE DEVIL'S LAIR
The abandoned steel mill loomed over the river like a rusted skeleton, its towering smokestacks piercing the cloudy night sky. The air smelled of decay and stale water. I parked my SUV half a mile away and walked the rest of the distance alone, my trench coat billowing in the bitter wind.
Every shadow seemed to hide a sniper, every rustle of the wind sounded like a shifting boot, but I didn't care. The only thing driving me forward was the thought of Hannah tied to that chair, bleeding because of my past.
I walked straight through the rusted front gates. The courtyard was empty, but I knew I was being watched. A spotlight suddenly clicked on from a guard tower, blinding me. I didn't stop. I kept my hands away from my weapons, projecting an aura of complete control.
"Stop right there, Whitaker," a voice echoed through a megaphone.
I stopped. Two armed guards emerged from the shadows, patting me down and stripping me of my Glock and the backup piece on my ankle. They didn't find the ceramic blade hidden in the lining of my belt.
"Follow us," one of them grunted, shoving the barrel of his rifle into my spine.
They led me deep into the bowels of the mill, down a rusted freight elevator that groaned in protest as it descended into the underground tunnels Rossi had mentioned. The air grew damp and cold. Finally, the elevator shuddered to a halt, and the rusted doors clanged open.
I stepped into a massive underground cavern that had been converted into a high-tech command center. Monitors lined the walls, weapons caches were stacked to the ceiling, and in the center of the room, tied to a metal chair, was Hannah.
"Andrew!" she screamed, her voice hoarse. "You shouldn't have come! It's a trap!"
"Silence, my dear," a smooth, arrogant voice echoed through the cavern.
Marcus stepped out from the shadows. The eight years since his 'death' had changed him. His hair was completely silver, and a nasty burn scar ran up the side of his neck—a souvenir from the car bomb he used to fake his demise. He was impeccably dressed, as always, but his eyes were completely devoid of sanity.
"Brother," Marcus smiled, spreading his arms wide as if welcoming me home. "Look at you. The great King of Milwaukee. I must admit, I'm impressed with what you've done with the empire I started."
"You're a coward, Marcus," I spat, ignoring him and keeping my eyes on Hannah, checking her for serious injuries. She was bruised but defiant. "You faked your death, let me fight your wars, and hid in the shadows like a rat."
"I was a visionary!" Marcus snapped, his smile vanishing. "The Commission was going to kill us both, Andrew! I faked my death to take the heat off. I let you take over because I knew you were a blunt instrument. You were the muscle. I was the brain. And while you were busy fighting street thugs, I was building a global network."
"And Hannah?" I asked, my voice cold. "What was her part in your grand delusion?"
Marcus laughed darkly. "Ah, Hannah. My biggest mistake. I actually liked her, you know. But she was too nosy. She stole a ledger from my Chicago house. A ledger that detailed my entire network, my offshore accounts, my ties to the politicians in this city. She didn't even realize what she had stolen. She hid it, ran away, and I spent years tracking her down."
He walked behind Hannah, placing a hand on her shoulder. She visibly flinched.
"I needed her back, but I knew she wouldn't break easily. So, I took her money. I took her husband. I backed her into a corner and pushed her right into your lap. I figured if the great Andrew Whitaker fell in love with her, she'd feel safe enough to retrieve the ledger for you." Marcus pulled a heavy silver revolver from his waistband and cocked the hammer. "But you burned my casinos tonight, Andrew. You forced my hand. So now, you're both going to die."
I looked at my watch. "You talk too much, Marcus."
Marcus frowned, confused. "What?"
May you like
At that exact moment, a deafening explosion rocked the cavern. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling as Dante and my men blew the structural supports of the mill above us. The lights flickered and died, plunging the cavern into absolute darkness.
The devil's lair was coming down, and hell was coming with it.
