Chapter 8 - Confession on Cold Concrete
Forty minutes later, twenty miles outside the city limits in an abandoned rail yard near the Indiana state line, the chase came to a violent end.
Vincent Gallo’s Cadillac sat stranded against a chain-link fence, its front tires blown out by spike strips deployed by Kade’s tactical units.
The doors were kicked open. Marcus and four heavily armed enforcers dragged Dr. Everett Voss and two of Gallo’s syndicate guards out into the mud, throwing them onto the cold concrete beneath the flickering amber light of a rusted overhead crane.
A heavy black Lincoln pulled up beside them. The rear door opened, and Weston Kade stepped out.
He moved with the cold, unstoppable momentum of an executioner. He wore a dark wool coat, his hands gloved, his face completely expressionless.
Voss writhed in the mud, sobbing hysterically as Weston walked over and stood above him.
“Mr. Kade... please! I have money! I can give you everything Gallo paid me!” Voss screamed, clawing at the dirt.
Weston didn't say a word. He pulled a heavy Smith & Wesson revolver from his holster, spun the cylinder with a sharp click, and pressed the barrel directly against the center of Voss’s forehead.
“Gallo thought he could wage war in a nursery,” Weston said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. “He thought he could use my son as leverage to break my empire. And you, Doctor... you traded an infant’s life for a wire transfer.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Voss wailed, trembling so violently he could barely form words.
“You’re going to make a phone call,” Weston said, motioning for Marcus to hand him a secure satellite phone. “You’re going to call Vincent Gallo right now. You’re going to tell him the hospital job is finished, the boy is dead, and you need a private extraction at his warehouse on 4th Street.”
Voss stared at the phone, terrified. “If... if Gallo finds out I betrayed him—”
“If you don't make the call right now,” Weston interrupted, cocking the hammer of the revolver, “you won't have to worry about Gallo. I’ll save him the trouble.”
Voss grabbed the satellite phone with shaking hands, punched in the speed-dial number, and held it to his ear.
When Gallo’s gruff voice answered on the other end, Voss choked out the words he had been ordered to say:
“Gallo... it’s Voss. The Kade kid... he didn't make it. The hospital just called time of death. I’m clean, but I need out of the city tonight. Meet me at the 4th Street warehouse.”
A low, triumphant laugh echoed through the speaker on the other end.
“Good work, Doctor,” Gallo’s voice replied. “I told you Kade’s empire would crumble from the inside out. Wait for me at the warehouse. I’ll send a car.”
The line went dead.
Weston took the phone from Voss’s hand, tossed it onto the concrete, and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot.
May you like
He looked down at Marcus.
“Gather every man we have,” Weston commanded coldly. “Tell them we’re going hunting. Tonight, the South Side syndicate ends.”
