Chapter 5 - THE IRON KEY
~1,100 words
The heavy, metallic clack of weapons being cocked echoed off the corrugated steel walls.
Russo didn't hesitate. He slowly, deliberately lowered his Sig Sauer to the concrete floor. His three guards followed suit, kicking their weapons away.
"Smart man," the scarred man sneered from the catwalk. He gestured with the barrel of his rifle. "Vincent. That's my name, by the way. I figured you should know the name of the man who ends the Russo empire."
"Matteo Ricci is a coward, Vincent," Russo said, his voice carrying clearly over the sound of rain hammering the metal roof. "He sends a dog to corner a child."
Vincent laughed, but the sound was completely devoid of humor. "Ricci didn't send me here for the kid. The kid was just leverage to make Danny play ball. Ricci wants what Danny promised him."
Nora held Mia tighter against her chest. The little girl buried her face in Nora’s apron, smelling faintly of vanilla and fear.
"Danny doesn't have the deed," Nora yelled up at the catwalk, her voice trembling but loud. "He couldn't forge the transfer because Donatello didn't die! The bakery is useless to you!"
Vincent leaned over the railing, his scarred cheek catching the harsh halogen light.
"You really are clueless, baker girl," Vincent said. "Ricci doesn't care about a bread shop. He cares about what your dear old dad hid underneath it."
Nora frowned, confusion cutting through her terror. "There's nothing under the bakery. Just a flour cellar and an old boiler."
"Your father," Vincent said, stepping away from the railing and motioning for two of his men to approach Russo, "was a quiet man. But he kept excellent records. Specifically, the ledgers of Matteo Ricci’s father. Thirty years of payoffs, murders, and bribes. Your dad hid them for old man Ricci before he died. Now, Matteo needs those ledgers to destroy his rivals. He needs to clean house."
Two of Vincent’s thugs grabbed Russo by the arms, forcing him to his knees on the wet concrete.
"Where is it, Russo?" Vincent demanded, pulling a handgun from his waistband and pointing it at Russo’s head. "Danny swore he didn't know where in the cellar his dad hid it. But you... your family took the deed. You know."
Russo looked up at Vincent, his face a mask of calm, cold stone. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Vincent sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that."
He shifted his aim, pointing the gun directly at Nora and the little girl in her arms.
"Let's see if your memory improves," Vincent said, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Time seemed to slow down.
Nora felt the hard shape of her canvas supply bag pressing against her hip. She remembered what was inside. Not just spatulas and piping bags.
She had packed her heavy, cast-iron flour scoop. And a large, tightly sealed jar of fine powdered sugar she used for dusting.
"Wait!" Nora screamed, scrambling to her feet, dragging her bag with her. She pushed Mia behind the wooden crate. "Wait! I know where it is!"
Vincent paused, lowering the gun an inch. "I'm listening."
"My father," Nora gasped, feigning a sob as she dug her hand into the canvas bag. Her fingers found the smooth glass jar of powdered sugar. "He gave me something before he died. He said to never lose it."
"Show me," Vincent demanded.
Nora pulled the jar out of the bag. But she didn't open it. She held it up in the harsh light.
"It's a key," she lied. "Hidden inside the sugar."
Vincent squinted from the catwalk. "Bring it here."
Nora stepped forward, away from Mia. She walked toward the center of the room, near where Russo was kneeling between his captors.
She unscrewed the lid of the jar as she walked.
Powdered sugar, she thought, her father’s voice echoing in her memory from a long-ago baking lesson. It’s not just sweet, Nora. Suspended in the air, in the right concentration, it’s highly combustible.
She reached Russo. The two guards holding him looked at her suspiciously.
"Give it to them," Vincent ordered from above.
Nora lifted the jar. But instead of handing it over, she spun in a violent circle, hurling the contents of the jar into the air.
A massive, thick cloud of fine, white powdered sugar exploded outward, completely engulfing Russo and the two guards in a blinding white fog.
"Donatello! The light!" Nora screamed.
Russo didn't miss a beat. In the split second of confusion, he ripped his arm free from the coughing guard, dropped to the floor, and grabbed the discarded Sig Sauer.
He didn't shoot at the men. He fired one single shot straight up into the swinging halogen bulb.
The bulb shattered with a loud POP.
The warehouse plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
"Fire!" Vincent screamed from the catwalk.
Gunfire erupted, wild and blind, tracing bright, deafening flashes through the darkness. The bullets sparked off the metal shipping containers.
Russo’s hand closed around Nora’s wrist in the dark. He yanked her hard to the left, behind a massive steel container, just as a spray of bullets tore through the air where she had been standing.
"Mia!" Nora cried out over the gunfire.
"I have her!" one of Russo’s surviving guards shouted from the darkness near the crate.
"Move!" Russo ordered, pushing Nora forward along the wall of the container.
They scrambled through the pitch-black maze, the sound of boots pounding on concrete echoing around them. Vincent’s men were shouting, trying to organize in the dark.
Suddenly, Russo stumbled, letting out a sharp, choked grunt. His grip on Nora’s wrist tightened painfully.
"Donatello?" she whispered, terrified.
"Keep moving," he gritted out.
They reached a side exit, a heavy metal fire door. Russo kicked it open, and they spilled out into the freezing, pouring rain, followed closely by the guard carrying Mia.
"To the car!" the guard yelled.
They sprinted across the wet pavement. Nora looked at Russo as they ran under the glow of a streetlamp. His hand was clamped over his shoulder, thick, dark blood seeping between his fingers and ruining his tuxedo jacket.
He had been hit.
They practically threw themselves into the armored SUV. The driver slammed on the gas, tearing out of the dockyard just as the warehouse doors burst open behind them.
Nora slumped back against the leather seat, panting, her hands covered in powdered sugar and shaking violently. Mia was crying softly in the guard’s arms.
Russo leaned his head back, his face pale, his breath coming in ragged bursts.
He reached into his pocket with his good hand and pulled something out, dropping it heavily into Nora’s lap.
Nora looked down.
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It was a heavy, rusted iron key.
"I lied to Vincent," Russo whispered, his eyes closing. "Your father didn't hide the ledger, Nora. I did. Under your bakery. And that key... is the only way in."
