Chapter 9 - Blood and Blackmail
The Cuyahoga River rolled sluggish and toxic past the rusted skeletons of Cleveland's abandoned industrial empire. The old Republic Steel processing plant rose from the riverbank like a decayed cathedral of rusted iron, broken corrugated metal, and shattered skylights.
Rain poured through the collapsed roof, echoing against the massive steel girders like gunshots.
Daniel Mercer walked through the cavernous entrance alone. He wore no coat now, just his rain-soaked suit, his boots crunching over decades of industrial grit and broken glass. In his right hand, he carried a duplicate, dummy flash drive he had bought at a gas station an hour earlier. His Glock was tucked securely into the small of his back.
In the center of the vast warehouse floor, illuminated by the harsh yellow beams of halogen work lights mounted on a generator, stood Ray Bennett.
Ray was not alone. Flanking him were four men in heavy coats, their hands resting noticeably beneath their jackets. And standing fifty feet behind them, leaning against a luxury black sedan, was Carmine Moretti himself—a silver-haired, impeccably dressed man whose empire controlled the darker currents of Lake Erie.
"Look at the hero," Ray called out, his voice echoing through the hollow expanse of the steel mill. "All by himself. Where's my nephew, Danny? Did you leave him to burn in the woods?"
Daniel stopped twenty paces away. The cold rain dripped from his hair into his eyes, but his gaze never wavered from Ray’s throat.
"Your men are dead in Vermilion, Ray," Daniel said, his voice flat, carry-ing an icy weight that cut through the sound of the rain. "The boy is safe. The police are with him."
A ripple of unease passed through the men surrounding Ray. Carmine Moretti took a slow step forward, his manicured face darkening with irritation. "Ray. You told me the boy and the ledger were secured."
"They will be, Mr. Moretti!" Ray stammered, sweat beading on his forehead despite the freezing cold. He pointed his finger at Daniel. "He brought the drive! Look at his hand! Give it here, Mercer!"
"Laura’s awake, Ray," Daniel lied smoothly, keeping his eyes locked on Moretti. "She woke up twenty minutes ago at MetroHealth. Detective Miller has federal prosecutors in her room right now taking a video deposition. And that drive in your hand won't save you, Carmine. The real files were uploaded to the FBI’s regional server ten minutes ago."
Moretti went completely still. "Is this true, Bennett?"
"He's lying! He's bluffing to save his skin!" Ray screamed, his eyes rolling with manic desperation. He drew a heavy chrome revolver from his waistband and aimed it directly at Daniel's forehead. "Give me that drive, Danny, or I'll blow your brains across this concrete!"
"Do it," Daniel said, taking a step forward.
Ray’s hand shook. "Don't test me, Mercer!"
"Do it, Ray!" Daniel shouted, his voice booming like thunder through the abandoned mill. "You spent twelve years running from your own cowardice! You sold out your sister! You tried to murder her on the bridge! You tried to murder your own nephew! Pull the trigger, you miserable piece of trash, because if you don't kill me right now, you won't survive this room!"
Ray’s finger tightened on the trigger.
*BANG!*
The gunshot was deafening. But it wasn't Ray's gun that fired.
Carmine Moretti had pulled a suppressed automatic pistol from his breast pocket and shot Ray Bennett cleanly through the right shoulder.
Ray screamed, dropping the revolver and collapsing onto the wet concrete, clutching his bloody shoulder.
"Shut up, Ray," Moretti said with quiet, venomous disgust. Moretti turned to Daniel, his eyes cold and calculating. "Mr. Mercer. You are a businessman. I am a businessman. If Laura Bennett has spoken to the feds, this fool has become an unacceptable liability. We can reach an accommodation."
"There is no accommodation, Moretti," Daniel said calmly.
Suddenly, the shattered skylights above them erupted inward in a shower of glass and cascading water.
*FLASH! BANG!*
Stun grenades detonated with blinding white light and concussive roar. Tactical ropes dropped from the high steel rafters, and a dozen federal agents in black tactical armor descended into the warehouse.
"FBI! NOBODY MOVE! WEAPONS ON THE GROUND!"
Detective Miller burst through the riverfront loading doors at the head of a tactical response team, his service weapon drawn. "DROP YOUR WEAPONS! ON THE GROUND, NOW!"
Moretti’s men didn't even have time to unholster their guns. Within three seconds, the four bodyguards were face-down on the freezing concrete, flex-cuffed and disarmed. Moretti slowly, elegantly raised his hands, his face a mask of bitter defeat.
On the floor, Ray Bennett was crawling backward through the puddle of dirty rainwater, whimpering like a wounded mongrel.
Daniel walked over to where Ray lay shivering. He looked down at the man who had poisoned Laura’s life, who had terrorized his son, who had tried to reduce their lives to ash.
Ray looked up through a mask of blood and rain, his eyes hollowed by fear. "Danny... please... we're family..."
Daniel knelt down, his face inches from Ray's.
"You are not family, Ray," Daniel said, his voice cold, steady, and merciless. "You are just a bad memory that ends today."
Daniel stood up, turned his back on the ruined man, and walked toward Detective Miller.
"The boy?" Daniel asked.
Miller smiled—a genuine, warm smile beneath his tired eyes. "He's at the hospital, Daniel. Laura’s awake. Truly awake this time. She’s asking for you."
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Daniel closed his eyes, letting out a breath he felt he had been holding for twelve long years.
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