Chapter 52
The heavy silence on the comms lasted for three agonizing seconds.
"You want me to call the King of Chicago?" Sarah asked, her voice laced with disbelief. "Cole, the syndicates aren't going to shelter a burned military asset. They’ll sell us to Vance for immunity."
"Vincent Castalano owes me," Cole stated flatly. "Four years ago, before I went off the grid, I provided the intelligence that allowed him to dismantle the High Commission in Rome. He gave me a burner number. He told me to call if the ghosts ever came back to haunt me."
"I'm dialing it now," Sarah said, typing frantically.
Cole waited, watching the dark, swirling ocean far beneath them through the small porthole window. He was betting his family's life on the honor of a mafia don.
The encrypted channel buzzed with heavy static before clearing perfectly.
"You are a difficult man to track, Ghost," a deep, rumbling baritone echoed through the earpiece. The voice of Vincent Castalano carried the effortless, terrifying authority of a man who ruled an empire of shadows.
"I prefer to keep moving, Vincent," Cole replied smoothly. "But my runway has run out. The federal government has issued a global burn notice. I have my sister, my sister-in-law, and a highly valuable piece of biological data. I need sanctuary, and I need an extraction that doesn't exist on radar."
"The federal government is a messy business partner," Vincent murmured. "Why should I invite a drone strike onto my estate?"
"Because the people hunting me are the same people who built the Vanguard," Cole reasoned coldly. "They are restructuring. If they acquire the asset I hold, their new network will make the old Commission look like street thugs. They will eventually come for Chicago. I am offering you the chance to blind them before they can see you."
A long pause followed. Cole could almost hear the apex predator calculating the geopolitical variables.
"I have a decommissioned submarine pen hidden beneath a shipping facility on Lake Michigan," Vincent finally declared. "I will have a stealth submersible deployed to international waters off the coast of Newfoundland. You have exactly four hours to make the rendezvous."
"We will be there," Cole said.
"Do not bring the heat to my city, Cole," Vincent warned softly. "Or I will finish the job the government started."
The line clicked dead.
Cole turned to the cockpit. "Pilot. Alter course to the Newfoundland coast. Drop to sea level and prepare for a water landing."
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"Sir, this aircraft is not designed for a water landing!" the pilot yelled back. "We will sink in minutes!"
"I know," Cole said, checking the seals on the specialized diving suits stored in the emergency lockers. "That’s the point. The government thinks we stole a biological weapon. We are going to let them watch it sink."
