Chapter 7 - The Gathering at the Docks
Two days later.
The Cicero docks were dark, quiet, and wrapped in thick gray fog rolling off Lake Michigan. Giant yellow shipping cranes towered over rows of colorful steel containers like sleeping iron beasts.
I walked down the central alleyway of Warehouse 4, flanked by Mateo and four armed guards.
Waiting inside the heated office overlooking the slip was Aaron Feld, surrounded by stack upon stack of official banking ledgers and corporate transfer deeds.
"Everything is signed and sealed, Carmela," Aaron said, pushing a pair of reading glasses up his nose. "The port authority has officially recognized the Romano Logistics Corporation as the sole leaseholder of Piers 12 through 18. Enzo’s signatures on the tax indemnities were validated an hour ago."
"Did he resist?" I asked, looking through the glass window at the dark water below.
"He didn't even look at the papers," Aaron confessed softly. "He sat in that dingy hotel room wearing the same suit he wore three days ago. He asked me three times if you had mentioned his name."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him you were busy running an empire," Aaron said.
A heavy wooden door at the far end of the warehouse creaked open.
One of my guards stepped into the office, nodding toward the lower floor. "Carmela... he’s here. He refused to leave the perimeter gate until we let him see you."
I walked out onto the iron catwalk overlooking the main floor of the warehouse.
Standing below, bathed in the harsh yellow glow of a single hanging work light, was Enzo.
He looked unrecognizable. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were bloodshot and hollow, surrounded by dark purple circles. The confident, terrifying mob boss who had ruled half of Illinois was gone; in his place stood a broken, desperate man clutching a small velvet box in his right hand.
"Carmela!" Enzo called out, his voice hoarse and raw from crying and cold air. "Carmela, please! Five minutes! Just give me five minutes!"
I slowly walked down the iron spiral staircase until I stood ten feet away from him on the concrete floor.
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"You shouldn't be here, Enzo," I said, my voice echoing in the vast, empty warehouse. "This is Romano territory now. My men have orders to shoot trespassers."
"Then let them shoot me!" Enzo sobbed, dropping to his knees on the freezing concrete. "Let them shoot me, Carmela! Because living like this... knowing what I did to you... knowing what I let happen to our baby... it’s killing me anyway!"
