Chapter 5 - The Twelve Men Beneath the Channel
By 4:00 AM, the cold mist over Lake Michigan was illuminated by the flashing strobe lights of twelve emergency recovery vehicles from the United States Coast Guard and the Cook County Medical Examiner's Office.
The abandoned naval drydock at Berth 9 had been transformed into an official federal crime scene.
Assistant United States Attorney Marcus Vance—accompanied by fifty federal agents in windbreakers—stood on the catwalk beside Lorenzo Falcone, reviewing the carbon-copy ledgers retrieved from Clara's apartment.
"The forensic metallurgical analysis is complete, Don Lorenzo," Marcus Vance reported, his face grim under his brimmed hat. "The sea valves on Barge 42 were cut from the outside using commercial hydraulic shears. The locks on the primary hatch were military-grade alloy, placed after the hold was sealed. This was premeditated, mass capital homicide committed to conceal a quarter-billion-dollar federal heist."
"And the bullion, Marcus?" Lorenzo asked, staring down into the drained hold where forensic teams were carefully draping white canvas over the twelve recovered remains.
"Every bar is intact," the federal prosecutor confirmed. "Two hundred and fifty million dollars in untouched Treasury gold. Victor Cross couldn't retrieve the metal until the city began the deep-water harbor dredging project this month—which was why he was running illegal de-watering pumps tonight to loot the vault before the Army Corps of Engineers arrived."
Lorenzo turned his head toward the entrance of the slipway.
Frank walked down the concrete ramp, holding an encrypted satellite phone.
"Boss. Victor Cross just arrived at Falcone Tower for the morning council meeting. He has six private bodyguards and his executive briefcase. He believes the bond transfers are scheduled for signature at eight o'clock."
Lorenzo slowly buttoned his dark wool overcoat, his jaw locking into granite.
"Are the families assembled, Frank?"
"Every single one, Don Lorenzo. Twelve widows, thirty-four children, and sixty dockworkers. They are waiting in the grand lobby right now."
Lorenzo looked at Clara, who stood beside her mother near the recovery tents, wrapped in a heavy navy wool pea coat.
He walked over to her, extending his arm with unhurried, royal authority.
May you like
"Come with me, Clara," Lorenzo said, his baritone cutting through the salt spray. "It's time to open the council."
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