Chapter 7 - The Secret on the Lake
I pushed through the dense foliage, reaching the moss-covered bronze statue of the huntress Diana at the back of the conservatory. Beneath the decorative ivy, an iron trapdoor was secured with a rusted padlock.
Luca reached us in two strides. He didn't bother looking for a key; he aimed his Beretta at the lock and pulled the trigger. Sparks flew as the shackle shattered. He wrenched the heavy iron hatch open, revealing a dark, concrete stairway leading down into pitch blackness.
"Go! Down the stairs!" Luca urged, keeping his eyes trained on the shattered dome above.
I scrambled down the cold, damp steps. Luca followed immediately, closing the heavy iron door above us and sliding an internal deadbolt into place. We were plunged into complete darkness for a second before Luca clicked on a small tactical flashlight mounted beneath his pistol barrel.
The beam revealed a vaulted concrete tunnel, cool and smelling of wet limestone and the open waters of Lake Michigan.
"Is everyone unharmed?" Luca asked, kneeling down to inspect Lily.
"I'm okay, Daddy," Lily whispered bravely, though her little lip trembled. "Emmy held my hand."
Luca looked up at me, the flashlight beam catching the determined set of my jaw. "You didn't scream once."
"Screaming wouldn't have saved us," I replied, catching my breath. "Where does this tunnel lead?"
"To a private boathouse at the base of the bluffs," Luca said, taking my hand to help me down the slick, sloping passage. "I keep a high-speed offshore vessel docked there for emergencies. We take the boat north to my compound in Wisconsin. Salvatore’s men will assume we're trapped in the estate's reinforced bunker."
We moved swiftly through the tunnel, our footsteps echoing against the damp walls. After five minutes of rapid descent, the roar of Lake Michigan grew louder, accompanied by the fresh, biting chill of the autumn night air.
At the end of the tunnel stood a heavy reinforced steel door. Luca punched a six-digit code into a concealed keypad. The magnetic lock disengaged with a dull clunk, and the door swung open.
The boathouse was pitch black, illuminated only by the faint moonlight filtering through the water-level slatted gates. Bobbing gently on the dark, churning water was a midnight-black, 40-foot interceptor boat with twin high-powered outboard engines.
"Get aboard and buckle Lily into the cabin berth," Luca commanded, unmooring the stern lines. "The moment I start the engines, we will have thirty seconds before their shoreline radar detects our transponder."
I rushed into the cabin, settling Lily onto the leather bunk and securing the safety harnesses around her small frame. "Close your eyes, darling. Try to rest."
"Emmy... don't leave me," Lily pleaded, her fingers clutching my wrist.
"I'm not leaving you, sweetheart. I'll be right outside at the helm with your father."
I stepped back out onto the deck just as Luca primed the ignition. But before the twin engines could roar to life, the loud clatter of heavy steel reverberated from the shoreline walkway above the boathouse.
A spotlight snapped on from the cliffside balcony, blinding us in a beam of harsh white light.
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"LUCA MORETTI!" a raspy, furious voice echoed through a megaphone.
Standing on the high platform overlooking the water, flanked by four armed mercenaries, was Salvatore Bellini.