Two miles into the suffocating darkness, the water level had risen from their soles to their shins.
The air grew thick with the smell of stagnant silt, engine grease, and rotting cedar piles.
The tunnel walls groaned continuously now, a chorus of agonizing stone that reverberated through their bones.
Vincent stopped suddenly, raising a flat palm.
Emma froze instantly, the cold water lapping against her knees.
She held her breath, listening intently.
Above the splashing of their own steps and the distant rumble of the city, another sound carried through the tube—the synchronized, metallic crunch of tactical boots upon wet gravel, approaching rapidly from the north.
“They breached the hatch,” Emma whispered, her voice tightening with dread.
“Matteo knew the blueprints,” Vincent said, extinguishing his wrist torch.
Darkness consumed them instantly—absolute, impenetrable black that made the senses spin.
“He knew where the hatch led.
He isn’t following the tracks; he’s using the service bypass tunnels to cut us off at the Adams Street junction.”
“How many?”
“At least eight.
Heavy gear.
They are moving faster than us because they have night vision.”
Vincent reached into his inner pocket and produced a sleek, matte-black sidearm—a customized SIG Sauer P226.
He pulled the slide back with an oily, precise click, chambering a round.
“Emma, reach down.
Feel the wall to your right.”
Emma ran her trembling hands along the slimy, wet bricks until her fingers snagged on cold, corroded metal.
“There’s an iron ladder.”
“It leads to a utility access shaft that opens into an electrical substation beneath the old post office.
It’s three stories up.
Climb.
Do not stop until you reach the grating at the top.”
Emma’s heart plummeted.
“What about you?”
“The ladder will not bear the weight of two people at once; the anchors are half-eaten by rust.
I will hold the intersection.
When you reach the top, use the heavy iron wrench lashed to the ladder rung to break the padlock on the hatch.
Get to street level and find the payphone outside the Western Union terminal.
Dial 555-0199.
It’s a secure landline to my chief of security at the compound.”
“I am not leaving you down here with him!”
Emma cried, her voice cracking in the dark.
“Matteo wants to kill you, Vincent!
You’re outgunned!”
Vincent stepped closer to her in the darkness.
She couldn’t see his face, but she felt the sudden warmth of his hand grasping the back of her neck, his thumb resting gently against her jawline.
It was a gesture of immense tenderness, entirely at odds with the violence surrounding them.
“I have survived every animal this city has ever spawned, Emma,” he murmured, his voice sending a steadying vibration through her skull.
“Matteo is an amateur playing at being a beast.
Trust me.”
He released her, his hand slipping away.
“Climb.
Now.”
Biting her lip until she tasted iron, Emma found the bottom rung of the ladder with her foot.
The iron was freezing and slick with slime, but she gripped it with both hands and began to ascend into the vertical darkness.
Below her, thirty yards back down the straight tunnel, two bright green beams of infrared lasers suddenly lanced through the darkness, scanning the water’s surface.
“Moretti!”
Matteo’s voice echoed down the tunnel, amplified by the brickwork into a demonic roar.
“Give up the drive, and I’ll make sure the girl gets a quick bullet!
You know how this ends!”
Vincent did not reply with words.
Chapter 56 – The Ascent of Emma Ward
Emma climbed with every ounce of strength remaining in her exhausted muscles.
The rungs groaned and bent beneath her weight, flakes of rust falling into her hair and eyes.
Below her, the firefight sounded like thunder trapped inside an iron barrel—the high-pitched snaps of carbines, the deeper, rhythmic reports of Vincent’s handgun, and the terrifying ricochet of lead whining off wet brick.
One rung.
Two rungs.
She counted in her head, ignoring the tearing pain in her palms and the freezing chill of the water dripping from her soaked clothes.
She could not allow him to die down here.
Not after he had stood before the entire city to defend her from Victoria Sterling.
Not after he had walked into the lion’s den to dismantle the network that had poisoned Chicago for decades.
A sudden, catastrophic explosion rocked the shaft.
The vibration was so violent that the ladder tore three inches out of the upper brickwork with a sickening screech of snapping iron.
Emma swung wildly into empty space, dangling by her left hand over the black void.
A scream ripped from her throat as her feet kicked frantically against empty air.
Below, the water surged violently.
The explosion had breached the retaining wall.
The Chicago River was pouring into the freight tunnels.
