Chapter 7 - THE FIRE ON THE SNOW
The heavy brass wheel turned with a groaning shriek of rusted iron.
Beneath the stone floorboards, pipes thrummed with sudden, violent pressure.
Three thousand gallons of winterized diesel fuel surged into the underground network of lawn irrigation conduits.
Above their heads, through the snow-covered gardens, forty high-pressure pop-up sprinkler heads hissed to life.
Instead of water, a pressurized mist of refined petroleum sprayed across the frozen terraces, the rose beds, and the boxwood hedges.
Through the subterranean ventilation grates, Clare could hear the confusion of the attacking mercenaries.
“What the hell is that smell?!” a voice shouted from the terrace above.
“Fuel! It's diesel! Cease fire! CEASE FIRE!”
Gabriel took a remote ignition trigger from the weapons safe.
A small black transmitter with a hinged safety cover.
He looked at Clare.
He offered his right hand.
“Walk with me, Mrs. Russo.”
Clare placed her hand in his.
Her grip was firm, steady, anchoring him against the violence that was about to consume his childhood home.
They walked down the vaulted stone corridor toward the heavy iron bulkhead leading to the river boathouse.
They reached the thick steel blast door.
Gabriel swung the lever, pulling the door open into the damp, cold river air.
A sleek, thirty-foot armored interceptor boat sat moored in the subterranean water slip, its twin inboard engines idling silently.
Elias was sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, wrapped in a heavy wool pea coat, holding a pair of marine binoculars.
When the old deaf groundskeeper saw Clare, his weathered face crumpled in relief.
He raised his calloused hands, signing rapidly:
Safe. Thank God. Safe.
Clare stepped onto the boat’s deck, smiling at the old man, signing back with one hand:
Together. Always.
Gabriel stood on the concrete slipway.
He raised the black transmitter.
He flipped the plastic safety cover with his thumb.
He pressed the red button.
Across the four acres of the northern estate gardens, electric spark igniters embedded in the sprinkler nozzles fired simultaneously.
WHOOSH.
A wall of orange fire erupted through the snowstorm, rising sixty feet into the winter sky.
The heat was instantaneous, washing down through the river culvert like a blast furnace.
The snow vaporized in milliseconds into dense, blinding clouds of white steam.
Screams echoed across the burning terraces as Moretti’s vanguard scrambled in blind panic, their weapons thrown into the inferno as their tactical gear caught flame.
Secondary explosions followed.
The propane tanks beneath the outdoor kitchen detonated in synchronized sequence:
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The entire north wing of the Russo mansion collapsed inward, a cascade of brick, flaming timber, and shattered marble falling into the cellar where Gabriel and Clare had stood minutes earlier.
Gabriel stepped onto the boat deck and pulled the iron bulkhead shut behind him, sealing the tunnel from the firestorm.
He walked to the helm.
He shoved the twin throttles forward.
The boat surged out from beneath the concrete foundations into the open, freezing waters of Lake Michigan.
The lake was black, choked with drifting plates of winter ice.
Behind them, the bluff blazed like a beacon against the dark Chicago skyline.
The hundred-year-old estate was an inferno, lighting the clouds with streaks of crimson and gold.
Clare stood beside Gabriel at the helm, holding the brass handrail with her right hand.
The freezing spray misted over their faces, but she didn't feel the cold.
She felt the heat radiating from the man beside her.
“Where are we going, Gabriel?”
Gabriel kept his eyes fixed on the distant, glittering towers of downtown Chicago.
“To the Drake Hotel,” he said.
His voice was like iron ground against granite.
“Carlo Moretti and Leo Vain booked the Presidential Suite four days ago.”
“They have fifty champagne bottles on ice waiting to celebrate my death.”
He turned his head to look at her.
The firelight from the burning mansion danced in his amber eyes.
May you like
“It would be rude,” Gabriel murmured,
“to keep them waiting.”
