Chapter 19 - The Flight to the Windy City
The destruction of the bomb at the Astoria substation marked the turning point in the war. Don Salvatore’s network in New York was completely broken, his arsonists arrested, and his local allies liquidated.
But as long as Salvatore sat safely in his fortress in Chicago, Queens would never know true peace.
At 9:00 PM the following evening, a non-scheduled private Gulfstream jet sat idling on the tarmac of a private hangar at JFK Airport.
I stood near the boarding stairs, dressed in a black suit beneath a dark wool overcoat. Beside me stood Tony, Frankie, and six of my elite strike captains, all carrying duffel bags loaded with tactical gear and untraceable weapons.
Bruno trotted up the boarding stairs, casually walking into the luxury cabin as if he owned the aircraft.
Tomas and Rosa Vasquez walked out from the hangar lounge to bid us farewell. Tomas held my hand in a tight, emotional grip.
"Don Gabriel," Tomas said, his voice deep with conviction. "Be careful in Chicago. My family will pray for your safe return every hour you are gone."
"Thank you, Tomas," I replied. "My men will remain stationed at your diner and house until we return. You are safe."
Before I climbed the stairs, little Elena ran out from behind her mother, carrying a small folded drawing in her hand. She pressed it into my palm.
"What's this, Elena?" I asked gently.
"It’s a lucky charm," Elena said with a bright, confident smile. "I drew Bruno protecting you from the bad man. Keep it in your pocket, and nothing can hurt you."
I folded the drawing carefully and placed it inside my inner suit pocket, right next to my heart. "I’ll keep it with me always, sweetheart."
Ten minutes later, the Gulfstream jet accelerated down the runway and lifted off into the night sky, banking west toward Illinois.
Inside the cabin, the atmosphere was quiet and deadly focused. My men were assembling weapons, checking night-vision equipment, and reviewing layout blueprints of Don Salvatore’s estate in Lake Forest, Illinois.
Tony walked over to my leather seat, sliding a thick intelligence dossier onto my table.
"Salvatore’s estate is a fortress, Boss," Tony explained, pointing to satellite photographs of the sprawling property. "Twenty acres of dense woodland surrounded by a twelve-foot stone wall, motion sensors, guard towers, and thirty full-time bodyguards."
"How are we getting inside?" Frankie asked from across the aisle.
"We aren't going through the front gates," I said, leaning over the map. "Salvatore expects a frontal assault. But he forgot that his estate sits right along the shore of Lake Michigan."
Tony’s eyes lit up with sudden understanding. "A water insertion from the lake?"
"Exactly," I said. "We use military-grade stealth Zodiac boats to land on his private beach under the cover of the midnight fog. We bypass the main gate security entirely."
"And what about the 'Friend' who sent us the notes from Chicago?" Tony asked softly. "Do we know who he is yet?"
I looked down at the dossier. "We’ll find out tonight. Because he gave us the security clearance codes for the lakefront perimeter gates."
Bruno laid his head on my knee, his dark eyes fixed on me with unwavering trust.
May you like
Three hours later, the private jet descended through the thick cloud cover over the glittering lights of Chicago.
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