Chapter 3 - THE SQUEAKY SHOE TRAIL💥 TRACKED BY A FOOTSTEP! HOW AN 8-YEAR-OLD GIRL CORNERED THE MAFIA'S DEADLIEST HITMAN! 😱
The Chicago rain turned into slanting sleet by 2:00 AM.
Gabriel, Hannah, and a strike team of four trusted enforcers crept through the derelict corridors of Pier 42—an abandoned shipping warehouse that had once served as Evan’s off-the-books logistics center.
The building was pitch black, saved only by the rhythm of passing harbor lights.
"He won't be here," Hannah whispered, raising her Glock 19. "He knows the feds are sweeping his known addresses."
"He has to be here," Gabriel replied, gripping his suppressed SIG Sauer. "The black envelope contains physical decryption keys. They can only be uploaded to the offshore servers using a high-frequency radio relay installed right here in 2018."
They moved like shadows through the maze of rusted shipping containers. Suddenly, Lucy—who had refused to stay in the armored SUV—pulled on Gabriel’s coat sleeve from behind.
"Stop," she whispered.
Gabriel froze instantly, signaling his men to hold their positions. "What is it?"
Lucy pressed her ear against a cold steel beam. She closed her eyes.
Squeak.
A beat of silence.
Squeak.
"Sub-level two," Lucy whispered, pointing toward a heavy iron fire door locked with a keypad. "Near the generator room. The floor has standing salt water from the storm drain."
"Nolan Pierce," Gabriel muttered. "Evan’s maintenance man. The one who stole the envelope."
Gabriel gestured to his lead enforcer, Viktor. Viktor placed a small breacher charge on the keypad lock. 3... 2... 1...
A muffled THUD blew the lock core inward. Gabriel kicked the iron door open, sweeping his gun through the dark room.
The sight inside made everyone freeze.
Nolan Pierce was slumping against the main electrical terminal, his eyes open and lifeless. A single bullet hole ruined the center of his forehead. On the metal table beside him lay his left shoe—its rubber sole heavily worn down, wet, and squeaking faintly as it vibrated against the humming generator.
"We're too late," Hannah cursed, sweeping the room. "The envelope is gone!"
"No," Gabriel said, walking slowly toward Nolan’s body. He reached out and grabbed the wet shoe, turning it over. "Nolan wasn't just a maintenance guy. He was a master smuggler."
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Gabriel pried open the hollowed-out heel of Nolan's shoe. Inside rested a tiny micro-SD card coated in blue resin.
"He double-crossed Evan," Gabriel said with a dark, satisfied grin. "Evan took an empty leather envelope. The real financial keys... are right here."
