Chapter 9 - The Trap Sets
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By 10:00 P.M., a heavy fog rolled in from the Chicago riverfront, blanketing the docks in thick, white silence.
Inside the Costa shipping terminal, forty of Adrian Rossi’s armed men slipped through the chain-link gates. They moved quietly between the massive steel containers, led by Rossi’s top enforcer, Marco.
“Keep it quiet,” Marco ordered through his radio. “The guards are paid off. We just lock down the main crane office and sign the transfer logs.”
They reached the central warehouse. The double doors were wide open, a single yellow light glowing inside the massive dark space.
Marco stepped inside, his hand resting on his weapon.
Sitting on a leather chair in the center of the empty warehouse was Vincenzo Costa.
He was wearing his tailored three-piece suit, a glass of crystal scotch in his hand, looking completely rested and unbothered. Standing in a neat semicircle behind him were thirty heavily armed Costa soldiers, their laser sights painting red dots across Marco’s chest.
Marco’s radio crackled.
“Marco!” Rossi’s panicked voice screamed through the receiver from his safehouse downtown. “It’s a trap! The federal accounts weren't frozen! The state police just raided my home!”
Vincenzo took a slow sip of his scotch, looking down at Marco with cold amusement.
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“Tell Adrian I said hello,” Vincenzo said softly.
Before Marco could pull his trigger, the lights went out, and the warehouse erupted into pure, controlled chaos.
