Chapter 3 - What Daniel Bell Left Behind
Mara learned something useful that night.
Fear became easier when it was specific.
Twelve guns in an alley had been overwhelming.
Someone breaking into her bakery?
That she understood.
She knew every door.
Every window.
Every loose floorboard.
Every blind corner.
Vincent raised one finger to his lips.
Mara whispered, "I know."
He looked mildly annoyed.
She pointed toward the far end of the cellar.
"Old delivery lift."
They moved through darkness.
Above them came soft footsteps.
Not rushed.
Whoever had entered wasn't stealing cash.
They were searching.
Vincent's injured leg dragged slightly.
Mara noticed.
"You can't fight."
"Comforting."
"I mean physically."
"I understood."
She slid open a narrow panel behind stacked flour sacks.
The old freight lift hadn't worked in years.
But beside it was a maintenance ladder leading to a trapdoor behind the bakery's walk-in refrigerator.
Her father had installed it after an electrical fire in 2008.
"Up."
Vincent looked at the ladder.
Then his leg.
Then Mara.
"You planned this."
"I planned fire safety."
"Same difference tonight."
Mara climbed first.
Vincent followed with difficulty.
They emerged behind the refrigerator.
Voices came from the prep room.
"Check upstairs."
"Rafe said the ledger is here."
Mara looked at Vincent.
Ledger.
That answered one question.
The old book mattered.
She had brought the USB but left the ledger downstairs.
Good.
Vincent leaned close.
"How many?"
Mara listened.
"Three, maybe four."
He looked toward the alley door.
Locked.
Front entrance?
Probably compromised.
Mara whispered, "There's another exit through the office."
They moved.
A shadow crossed the hallway.
Vincent grabbed Mara and pulled her against the wall.
A man entered the kitchen.
Gun raised.
Vincent waited until he passed.
Then struck once.
Fast.
The man collapsed.
Mara stared.
Vincent caught the pistol before it hit the tile.
"What?"
"You just hit him."
"That tends to happen during break-ins."
"You're bleeding."
"So is he now."
"Not helping."
They reached the office.
Mara unlocked a narrow side door leading into the neighboring laundromat storage area.
Empty at night.
They slipped through.
Vincent called Silvio.
Two minutes later, his men entered through the front while the intruders fled through the alley.
One was caught.
Three escaped.
By dawn, the bakery looked as if a storm had passed through it.
Cabinets ripped open.
Desk drawers emptied.
Flour dumped across the floor.
One display case broken.
Mara stood in the wreckage.
Vincent had been treated by a private doctor in the office.
Apparently feared men traveled with medical professionals.
Useful.
Mara held a broom.
Silvio watched her clean.
"Someone can handle that."
Mara swept harder.
"Someone did handle it. Poorly."
He stopped talking.
Vincent emerged wearing a borrowed black coat over fresh bandages.
"You should leave."
Mara laughed.
"This is my building."
"I mean Chicago."
That stopped her.
"For how long?"
"Until I know who is behind this."
"No."
"Mara."
"I've spent my whole life watching men tell women where to stand when things get dangerous."
Vincent's gaze sharpened.
"That sounds personal."
"It is."
She rested both hands on the broom.
"When I was nineteen, my mother dated a man named Curtis."
Vincent stayed quiet.
"He liked to drink. He liked to yell more."
Mara swallowed.
"One night he hit her."
Vincent's jaw tightened.
"I heard it from upstairs. I stayed in my room because she had told me a hundred times not to interfere."
The bakery disappeared around her.
That night came back.
Her mother's cry.
A chair hitting the floor.
Mara gripping her blanket.
"I listened for ten minutes."
She looked down.
"Then I went downstairs."
"What happened?"
"I hit him with a cast-iron skillet."
Silvio looked impressed.
Mara continued.
"My mother threw him out. She never forgave herself for telling me to stay upstairs."
Vincent understood.
"You don't stay inside."
"Not anymore."
He looked toward the ruined bakery.
"That quality may get you killed."
"Maybe."
Mara met his eyes.
"But it kept you alive."
Neither spoke for a moment.
Then Vincent held out his hand.
"The USB."
Mara had kept it in her bra overnight.
She pulled it out.
Silvio looked away.
Vincent almost smiled.
"You really trust no one."
"My bakery was just invaded by armed men because my dead father hid financial records underneath flour."
"Fair."
The USB was encrypted.
Vincent had someone who could open it.
Mara insisted on being present.
They went to an apartment above a closed tailor shop three blocks away.
A young woman named Lena worked at three monitors.
Within twenty minutes, she accessed the files.
Shipping manifests.
Bank transfers.
Property acquisitions.
Payments stretching fifteen years.
And photographs.
Mara's father had documented everything.
One folder was labeled HARROW.
Inside was a list of shell companies.
One name repeated.
Harrow Municipal Services.
Mara frowned.
"I know that company."
Vincent looked at her.
"How?"
"They bought the building next door."
The abandoned laundromat.
Lena searched city property records.
Harrow Municipal owned six properties on Mara's block.
Then eight.
Then eleven.
Almost everything around Bell & Daughter Bakery.
Everything except Mara's building.
Vincent leaned back.
"They're assembling the block."
"Why?"
Lena opened zoning maps.
A redevelopment proposal had been filed eighteen months earlier.
Luxury towers.
Hotel.
Retail.
Estimated value after redevelopment: four hundred eighty million dollars.
Mara stared.
"My bakery is in the center."
Vincent nodded.
"They need your property."
"I've had offers."
"From Harrow?"
"Different companies."
"Same owners."
Mara's stomach turned.
Her father's death.
The neighborhood.
The ledger.
This wasn't only criminal politics.
It was real estate.
Money.
A lot of money.
Lena opened another file.
A scanned letter.
Daniel Bell had written it shortly before his death.
Vincent read aloud.
"Harrow isn't Costello business. Someone is using Vincent's routes, his people, and his reputation to force sales. Vincent doesn't know."
Silence.
Mara looked at Vincent.
"So my father trusted you."
Vincent's face revealed nothing.
"Apparently."
"Did he ever tell you?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't know."
Lena clicked another file.
Audio.
Daniel's voice.
Older.
Tired.
"If you're hearing this, I waited too long."
Mara's chest tightened.
Her father's voice filled the room.
"I thought I could gather enough evidence before talking to Vincent. I was wrong. Someone close to him is running Harrow. Someone who knows everything he knows."
The recording crackled.
Then Daniel said a name.
"Silvio Moretti."
Every person in the room froze.
Mara slowly turned.
Silvio stood behind them.
His face went white.
Vincent's hand moved toward his gun.
Silvio raised both hands.
"Boss, I swear—"
Vincent aimed at him.
Mara stared between them.
Silvio had been beside Vincent all night.
Protecting him.
Watching her bakery.
Someone Vincent trusted completely.
May you like
Daniel Bell's recorded voice continued.
"If Vincent still trusts Silvio, he may already be too late."
