Chapter 2 - The Name of the Beast
"My name is Julian Vance," the blond man said, his hands rising slowly to show he wasn't reaching for a weapon. "I am the senior operations counsel for Horizon Development. But you know us by our legal entity—The Syndicate of the North Side."
Vincent’s eyes narrowed slightly. Horizon Development wasn't just a construction company; they were the invisible architecture of Chicago's corruption. They built the luxury high-rises that laundered dirty money, funded the campaigns of three city councilmen, and paid the salaries of a dozen high-ranking police captains.
"Maria Martinez was a cleaning woman," Vincent said, stepping closer until he could smell the expensive cologne on Julian’s neck. "She cleaned your executive offices on Wacker Drive. What did she find?"
"She found a digital ledger," Julian replied, trying to maintain his composure despite the sweat beginning to bead at his hairline. "A ledger detailing every payment made to Judge Harrison, Commissioner Miller, and... well, several individuals within your own organization, Vincent."
A murmur went through the room. Vincent didn't look back at his men. He kept his eyes locked on Julian. "Treasons within my house are my concern. But a mother murdered in front of her child? That belongs to me now."
"You can't protect her forever, Caruso," Julian warned, his voice shaking slightly. "The ledger is encrypted, but the photographs and the physical documents in that backpack are enough to spark a federal grand jury investigation. If those documents are leaked, the entire city infrastructure collapses. They will burn this restaurant to the ground with you inside it to get that bag back."
"Then let them bring the match," Vincent said. He turned to his lieutenant, Tommy, who stood by the bar. "Tommy, take Mr. Vance and his two friends downstairs to the cold storage. Let them think about their choices surrounded by the beef carcasses for a few hours."
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"You can't do this, Caruso!" Julian shouted as Tommy and three large soldiers grabbed their arms, disarming them with brutal efficiency. "This is a declaration of war!"
"No," Vincent whispered as they were dragged toward the basement stairs. "It's a cleaning service."
