Chapter 4 - The Audit of the North Side
By 3:00 AM, the penthouse suite had been converted into an operational command center.
Maps of the city were projected onto a smart-glass wall partition, marked with pulsing red and blue data nodes representing rival syndicates, corrupt municipal officials, and shipping terminals controlled by Councilman Vance.
I sat at the mahogany conference table, my fingers flying across the keys of a secure terminal, cross-referencing the hospital staff manifests from Saint Jude’s against the financial wire transfers logged in Gideon’s intelligence database.
It didn't take long. In the underworld, as in corporate finance, betrayal always leaves a paper trail.
"Found her," I said, spinning the monitor toward Gideon, who was standing behind my chair holding a fresh cup of black coffee.
On the screen was the personnel file of a registered labor and delivery nurse named Brenda Walsh—a woman who had mysteriously retired from Saint Jude’s Hospital three days after Owen’s birth and immediately purchased a three-hundred-thousand-dollar home in an upscale suburb using cash.
Below her bank records was a wire transfer confirmation dated November 18, 2024:
Sender: Oak & Iron Holdings (Councilman Vance’s primary shell company).
Recipient: Brenda Walsh.
Amount: $150,000.
Memo: 'Specialist medical transport services.'
"Vance didn't just want to kill my brother," Gideon murmured, reading the transaction over my shoulder, his breath warm against my ear. "He wanted to cripple the Salerno bloodline from every angle—taking out the heir in Montreal while kidnapping the collateral insurance policy right out of a Chicago delivery room."
"They stole my baby to use as leverage against you," I whispered, feeling a cold, burning rage unfurl in my chest—the same cold focus I had used to dismantle Falcone's empire, channeled now toward a much more personal enemy.
"They didn't just steal a child, Mallerie," Gideon corrected, his hand coming down to rest heavily on the back of my chair. "They declared war on the wrong family."
Vince stepped out of the private elevator, holding a secure satellite phone. "Boss. We have an intercept on Councilman Vance’s private line. He’s currently holed up in his campaign headquarters on Archer Avenue, meeting with his captains to discuss the fallout from the failed snatch at the Meridian."
Gideon straightened up, his face setting into stone.
"Vince, Dante, get the tactical teams ready," Gideon ordered, walking toward the armory cabinet set into the wood-paneled wall. "We’re going to pay the Councilman a late-night visit."
I stood up from the conference table.
"I'm coming," I said.
Gideon paused, pulling a heavy Sig Sauer pistol from the foam cutout in the cabinet and checking the magazine. He looked back at me, his slate-gray eyes narrowing. "This isn't an accounting audit, Mallerie. This is a wet-work extraction."
"Councilman Vance’s campaign headquarters is wired into the city’s municipal database," I countered, walking around the desk and standing two feet from him. "He’s storing his offshore financial records on a local server in the basement. If your men kick the front door down without knowing the subnet architecture, his tech guys will wipe the hard drives before you reach the second floor."
I looked down at the gun in his hand, then back up into his eyes.
"You need a shooter, Gideon. But you also need someone who knows how to read the safe before you blow the hinges."
Gideon stared at me for three long, measuring seconds. Then, slowly, a grim, respectful smile touched the corner of his mouth.
May you like
He reached into a secondary drawer, pulled out a lightweight Kevlar vest, and held it out to me.
"Put this on," he said. "And stay behind my left shoulder."
