Chapter 3 - The Siege of the Grand Regency
By 3:00 a.m., the Lincoln Park safe house was secure. It was a modest, unmarked brick townhouse equipped with reinforced steel doors and a state-of-the-art surveillance suite.
Sarah and the children were asleep in the upstairs bedroom, finally safe behind bulletproof glass and under the watchful eye of two of Marcus's best security agents.
Julian sat in the dark living room downstairs, the blue light of his laptop illuminating his face. Beside him stood a mug of cold black coffee.
"Sir," Marcus said, stepping into the room with a tablet in hand. "We have a problem. The security feed at the Grand Regency just went dark on the executive floor."
Julian looked up, his brow furrowing. "The hotel has triple-redundant power backups. How did the cameras go offline?"
"A local precinct squad car arrived ten minutes ago," Marcus explained, showing the tablet screen. "They claimed there was a report of an active shooter in your suite. They bypassed the hotel’s security manager, cut the main fiber-optic line in the basement, and are currently clearing the floor. They aren't looking for a shooter, Mr. Thorne. They're looking for Sarah and the files."
Julian stood up, a dangerous energy crackling through his veins. Frank was desperate. He knew that if those files reached the federal authorities, his life—and the lives of everyone in his network—would be over. He was willing to stage a full-scale tactical raid on a five-star hotel to destroy the evidence.
"Where is the hotel manager?" Julian asked.
"Held in his office by two of Frank’s men under the guise of an 'ongoing investigation,'" Marcus said. "They've locked down the building. No one goes in or out."
"They think they can play sheriff in my house," Julian said, a cold smile touching his lips. "They forgot who pays the bills in this city."
He picked up his phone and dialed a direct line to the Commissioner of the Chicago Police Department.
The phone rang three times before a sleepy, irritated voice answered. "Thorne? Do you know what time it is?"
"Commissioner Ward," Julian said, his voice dripping with authority. "I suggest you wake up very quickly. Right now, a group of corrupt officers from the 12th Precinct, led by a suspended officer named Frank Miller, are conducting an unauthorized, armed raid on the Grand Regency Hotel. They have cut the security lines, held my staff hostage, and are attempting to destroy evidence of a multi-million-dollar land-fraud scheme involving Richard Vance."
There was a long, stunned silence on the other end. "Julian... are you sure about this? The 12th Precinct is under federal monitoring—"
"I have the ledger, Ward," Julian interrupted. "I have the wire transfer records. And I have the live audio of Frank Miller threatening me on my own executive floor. If your department doesn't have Internal Affairs and a SWAT team at that hotel in ten minutes to arrest every single officer on that floor, I will release the entire file to the Chicago Tribune and the federal prosecutor. By sunrise, your department will be the center of the biggest federal civil rights investigation in forty years."
"I'm on it," Ward said, his voice suddenly sharp and fully awake. "The tactical unit is five minutes away from that sector. I’m sending the Deputy Superintendent personally."
Julian hung up and looked at Marcus. "Get the car ready. We’re going back."
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"Sir, it's dangerous," Marcus warned. "Frank is armed, and he has nothing left to lose."
"Then he’s exactly where I want him," Julian said, grabbing his coat. "Desperate men make mistakes. And I want to make sure he makes his last one tonight."
