Chapter 4 - The Escape from River North
The engine of the 1968 Lincoln Continental didn't roar to life; it groaned, coughed once, and then settled into a deep, heavy purr that vibrated through the stone floor of the ancient carriage house.
The smell of old leather and gasoline filled the dark garage.
Mara sat behind the heavy wooden steering wheel, her hands gripping the cracked leather cover so tightly her knuckles were white. Beside her in the passenger seat, Luca leaned back against the headrest, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in shallow, painful rasps.
"The side gate opens manually with a chain lock," Luca murmured, pointing toward the heavy wooden doors at the end of the stone ramp. "There's a key hanging on the beam beside the door."
Mara didn't waste time. She threw the car into park, ran to the beam, grabbed the heavy iron key, and unlocked the padlock securing the double doors. She pushed them open just wide enough for the wide body of the Lincoln to clear.
Outside, the rain was coming down in blinding sheets, turning the gravel drive into a river of mud.
Suddenly, a flashlight beam cut through the storm from the direction of the main courtyard.
"Hey! Who's in there?!" Frank’s booming voice echoed over the roar of the wind.
Mara didn't answer. She scrambled back into the driver's seat, slammed the door shut, and jammed the gear shift into drive.
"Hold on!" she yelled to Luca.
She slammed her foot onto the accelerator.
The massive V8 engine roared, the rear tires spinning on the slick concrete before catching traction, launching the three-ton steel Continental out of the carriage house like a battering ram.
Frank dove out of the way, his flashlight flying through the air as the Lincoln brushed past him, crushing a wooden rose trellis and tearing down the iron chain linking the side gates.
The car burst out onto the dark, rain-slicked pavement of Lake Shore Drive.
Behind them, red emergency lights flashed atop the estate's main gate as the automated alarm system began to wail into the stormy night.
Mara drove like a woman possessed, navigating the heavy vehicle through the blinding downpour, keeping her eyes fixed on the gray asphalt ahead while Lake Michigan churned violently to her left.
"Where... are we going?" Luca rasped, his hand reaching over to grip the center console to steady himself as Mara took a sharp turn onto Michigan Avenue.
"Somewhere they won't look," Mara said, glancing at the rearview mirror. No headlights were following them yet, but she knew Frank had armed men and high-speed SUVs at his disposal. "Do you have money? Real money, not cards they can track?"
Luca reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a slim leather wallet. Inside was a stack of crisp, hundred-dollar bills—at least five thousand dollars—and a small brass key stamped with a three-digit number.
"Safety deposit box at First National Bank on 5th," Luca whispered. "There's two hundred thousand in cash and three passports inside."
"Good," Mara said, taking a deep breath. "Because we're going to my aunt's old apartment in Bridgeport. It's been empty since she moved to Arizona last fall. No cameras. No staff. No cedar compound."
She glanced at him in the dim dashboard light.
Luca’s face was ghost-white, his lips tinged with a faint blue outline as his body began to react to the sudden exertion and exposure to the cold night air. But for the first time since she had known him, his eyes were clear. The heavy, fogged stupor that had clouded his mind for months was beginning to lift as the toxic spores cleared from his lungs.
"Mara," Luca murmured, his voice fading slightly as exhaustion pulled him down.
"Don't die in my car, Luca," Mara warned, keeping her eyes on the road. "I just ruined my life for you. The least you can do is stay conscious."
A tiny, genuine smile touched the corner of Luca’s mouth—the first real smile she had ever seen on his face.
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"I'm not dying," Luca whispered, his fingers reaching out to lightly brush against the sleeve of her coat. "I'm just... resting."
His hand slipped down to rest against her knee, his head leaning back against the leather seat as he drifted into a deep, dark sleep.
