Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE WITH NO ADDRESS
I tried to run toward the burning diner.
Mikhail caught me around the waist.
“Irina is inside!”
“The building is collapsing.”
“I saw her!”
“So did I.”
“Then let me go!”
He pulled me backward as another explosion blew open the kitchen door.
Heat struck my face.
Firefighters shouted for everyone to move away, but several of them were not watching the fire. They were watching Mikhail and his men.
Anton noticed too.
“Those are not all firefighters,” he warned.
A man near the ladder truck reached beneath his coat.
Anton fired first.
The man dropped behind the vehicle as Mikhail forced Misha and me into an SUV.
Benny climbed in through the opposite door.
The moment Anton entered the front passenger seat, the driver accelerated into the alley.
Gunfire followed us.
A bullet struck the rear window but failed to penetrate the armored glass.
I twisted around, watching smoke swallow the only home my family had ever built.
“No,” I whispered.
Misha held my hand.
I wanted to pull away.
Not because I blamed him.
Because I knew that if I felt the warmth of his small fingers, I would remember that saving him had been worth the cost.
That realization was too painful while my diner burned.
Mikhail sat opposite us.
“We will rebuild it.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I am not asking.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
His voice remained controlled. “Would you prefer I allow Northstar Holdings to take the land?”
“I would prefer one night in which a criminal doesn’t make decisions about my life.”
Benny leaned forward.
“Nora.”
“No. My father was murdered. My mother lied to me. My diner just exploded, and he keeps acting like throwing money at the wreckage fixes everything.”
Mikhail’s eyes darkened.
“I know money does not fix the dead.”
The words silenced me.
Misha lowered his head.
I regretted my anger immediately, but apologies were difficult while adrenaline still burned through me.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“A secure residence.”
“Your mansion?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because everyone knows where I live.”
The convoy split into three groups beneath Lower Wacker Drive. Our SUV changed direction twice, entered an underground garage and stopped inside a delivery truck.
The truck carried us for another twenty minutes before the SUV drove out into a private tunnel.
When we finally stopped, I had no idea where we were.
The safe house looked like an ordinary brick residence from the rear. Inside, however, steel shutters covered the windows. Cameras watched every hallway. A medical room occupied the first floor, and enough food filled the kitchen to survive a siege.
Misha was taken upstairs to change and rest.
I remained in the kitchen with Benny while a doctor cleaned the cut on my arm and checked Benny for smoke inhalation.
Mikhail and Anton disappeared into a secure office.
“They’ll kill each other before breakfast,” Benny said.
“Who?”
“Mikhail and whoever betrayed him.”
“You sound very sure Pavel is guilty.”
“I’m sure your father feared him.”
“You never mentioned that name.”
“Your father never said it. But one night, a black sedan followed him to the diner. A man stepped out wearing a silver wolf pin.”
“Pavel wears one?”
“I saw it in a newspaper photograph years later.”
I closed my eyes.
“How much did you know?”
“Not enough to save Sam.”
“You could have told the police.”
“Cole was the police.”
“You could have told me.”
“And watch you start asking questions? Your father knew you. You would have chased every answer until someone buried you beside him.”
“I deserved the truth.”
“Yes,” Benny said quietly. “You did.”
His agreement took the anger out of me.
He sat beside me.
“I’m sorry, kid.”
I rested my head against his shoulder.
“Was Irina really inside the diner?”
“I saw her.”
“Then she may still be alive.”
“Or somebody wanted us to believe she was there.”
A wall monitor displayed feeds from the exterior cameras. No street signs or neighboring buildings were visible.
Mikhail entered wearing a clean white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Without the overcoat, he looked less like a legend and more like a tired father who had not slept in several days.
“Firefighters found no body,” he said.
“Irina escaped?”
“Possibly. There is a service tunnel beneath the diner.”
I stared at him. “A what?”
“Anton’s men discovered an entrance after the explosion.”
Benny looked surprised.
“You didn’t know?” I asked him.
“No.”
Mikhail placed a map on the counter.
The tunnel began beneath the basement and connected to an abandoned freight passage beneath three city blocks.
“My father built a secret room and forgot to mention the tunnel?”
“The tunnel predates the diner,” Mikhail said. “It may explain why Samuel chose the property.”
“Or why Northstar wants it.”
He nodded.
I looked at the map.
“The tunnel reaches the river?”
“And an old municipal records building.”
The ledger had listed that building under a coded property number.
“What was Pavel moving through it?”
“We do not know yet.”
“You mean you don’t know.”
His eyes lifted to mine.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means this happened under your name.”
“You think I personally inspect every warehouse and tunnel in Chicago?”
“I think men are afraid to breathe without your permission.”
“You confuse fear with control.”
“Aren’t they the same in your world?”
“No.” His voice became colder. “Fear makes people obey while you are watching. Loyalty decides what they do when you are not.”
“And now you know which one you had.”
Mikhail glanced away.
I realized I had struck the wound beneath his anger.
Pavel had raised him.
If Elena’s accusation was true, Mikhail’s empire had been poisoned by someone he loved.
“Have you contacted him?” I asked.
“He called when he heard Misha was found.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That Misha is safe.”
“Does he know I’m here?”
“Everyone knows you are involved after tonight.”
I folded my arms.
“Wonderful.”
“You will remain under protection.”
“For how long?”
“Until Pavel is dead.”
Misha stood in the doorway.
His face went pale.
Mikhail turned.
“I told you to rest.”
“Are you going to kill Uncle Pavel?”
The room became silent.
Mikhail crossed to his son.
“We do not know if he did anything.”
“But you said—”
“I spoke carelessly.”
“You never speak carelessly.”
Misha’s observation seemed to surprise him.
The boy looked at me.
“Did Uncle Pavel burn your diner?”
“We don’t know.”
“Papa knows.”
Mikhail crouched in front of him.
“I know your mother was afraid. I know Nora’s father tried to protect her. I know Irina sent you to the Bluebird for a reason. But knowing is not proving.”
“Does proof matter?”
“It must.”
“Why?”
Mikhail glanced toward me.
“Because anger without truth destroys innocent people.”
I wondered how many years it had taken him to learn that.
Misha nodded slowly.
“Can Nora stay near my room?”
“That is her decision.”
He looked at me hopefully.
I agreed.
The bedroom beside Misha’s contained a soft bed, clean clothes in several sizes and no personal objects. It felt more like a hotel designed for fugitives than a home.
I showered and changed into gray sweatpants and a sweater provided by the housekeeper. When I returned to the hallway, Misha was sitting outside his room.
“Can’t sleep?” I asked.
He shook his head.
I sat beside him.
“Me neither.”
“Papa doesn’t sleep.”
“Everybody sleeps.”
“Not since Mama died.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Misha leaned his head against my arm.
“Do you think she’s alive?”
The question broke my heart.
“I think Irina wanted your father to learn something.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“You’re right.”
He sounded so much like Mikhail that I smiled.
“The truth is, I don’t know. But I promise I won’t lie just because the truth is scary.”
“Papa lies when he wants to protect me.”
“Parents do that sometimes.”
“Your parents did.”
“Yes.”
“Are you angry at them?”
“Very.”
“Do you still love them?”
“Very.”
He considered this.
“People are complicated.”
“That might be the smartest thing anyone has said tonight.”
I took him back to bed and remained until his breathing became steady.
When I entered the hallway, Mikhail stood near the stairs.
“How long were you there?” I asked.
“Long enough.”
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I don’t have an army to command.”
“You have a cook with a skillet. It appears equally exhausting.”
I smiled before I could stop myself.
His expression softened.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“Not lying to him.”
“He asked me a question.”
“Most adults choose the answer that ends the conversation.”
“My mother did that. I hated it.”
Mikhail leaned against the wall.
“Elena believed children understood more than adults allowed.”
“She sounds brave.”
“She was.”
“You loved her.”
It was not a question.
“Yes.”
The simple honesty surprised me.
“Then why would she hide an investigation from you?”
“Because the man she married would have started a war before collecting proof.”
“And the man standing here?”
“He would collect proof first.”
“What happens after?”
His gaze became unreadable.
“That depends on what the proof shows.”
A soft alarm sounded through the hallway.
Mikhail immediately straightened.
Anton’s voice came through the house speakers.
“Security breach. Second floor.”
Mikhail drew a gun.
“Stay here.”
“That’s Misha’s floor.”
I followed him.
He did not waste time arguing.
We reached Misha’s bedroom in seconds.
The door stood open.
The bed was empty.
A breeze moved the curtains.
The steel shutter had been raised, and the window beyond it was open.
Mikhail searched the bathroom and closet.
Nothing.
On the pillow lay a folded piece of blue paper shaped like a bird.
Anton entered, face grim.
“All exterior cameras went dark for forty-two seconds.”
“Where are the guards?” Mikhail demanded.
“One unconscious. One missing.”
I picked up the paper bird.
Writing covered one wing.
BRING THE LEDGER TO SAINT AGNES.
The other wing contained a second message.
COME WITHOUT NORA, AND THE BOY DIES.
Mikhail read it.
His face became terrifyingly calm.
Anton reached for the alarm panel.
“Mobilize every team.”
“No,” I said.
Mikhail turned toward me.
“This message is designed to separate us.”
“It says not to bring me.”
“Exactly.”
“They want the ledger.”
“They already attacked the diner to recover it,” Anton said.
I unfolded the paper completely.
A faint red fingerprint marked the center.
Beneath it, almost hidden inside the crease, someone had drawn a tiny kitten.
Misha had left us a clue.
The kitten wore a badge.
I remembered Detective Cole’s spotless raincoat.
My father’s warning echoed in my mind.
Do not trust the badge.
“I know who took him,” I said.
May you like
Mikhail’s eyes locked onto mine.
“Detective Cole.”
