Chapter 10 - The Echo of the Streets
The sun rose over Lake Michigan with a cold, pale glare, painting the glass towers of the city in shades of slate and frost. Inside the penthouse on the fifty-fifth floor, the apartment was quieter than usual.
Vincent stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, a cup of black coffee cooling in his hand. Below him, the morning traffic was beginning to crawl across the bridges like lines of industrious ants.
"The transition is clean," Julian said, stepping out of the private elevator with a leather portfolio tucked under his arm. He didn't turn on the overhead lights, preferring the natural gray dawn. "Marcone’s freighter cleared the international waters off the St. Lawrence Seaway four hours ago. He’s heading south toward Buenos Aires with a passport that won't get him past a customs desk without an escort."
"And Miller?" Vincent asked without turning around.
"Miller took a severance package and a bus ticket to Arizona," Julian replied. "He knows better than to look back. The rest of Marcone’s men folded into our payroll or dispersed before the sun came up. The city belongs to us, completely."
Vincent took a slow sip of the bitter coffee. "An empire doesn't belong to anyone, Julian. It’s just managed until the next storm."
"Maybe," Julian said, walking over to lay the portfolio on the mahogany desk. "But right now, the weather report looks clear. Except for one small detail."
Vincent turned his head. "What detail?"
"School registration," Julian said, a rare, dry note of amusement touching his lips. "It turns out the state of Illinois requires children of a certain age to attend a registered educational institution. You can't just teach a six-year-old how to balance ledgers and inspect shipping manifests, no matter how bright he is."
Vincent stared at the portfolio. The word school felt foreign, jagged, and completely outside his frame of reference. His own education had been a series of hard knocks in the municipal dormitory and the brutal curriculum of the streets.
"Find the best private academy within a ten-mile radius," Vincent said, setting his cup down. "One with private security, high walls, and a strict confidentiality clause."
"Already done," Julian said, sliding a glossy brochure across the desk. The St. Jude Academy for Boys. " Guarded gates, background checks for every parent, and an endowment large enough to buy half the city council. They think Leo is the heir to an international shipping fortune."
"He is," Vincent said quietly.
From down the hallway, the faint sound of small sneakers pattering against the hardwood floor interrupted them. A second later, Leo appeared in the doorway, wearing a miniature gray blazer, a striped tie that was slightly crooked, and carrying a new leather schoolbag that looked three times too big for his back.
"Dad," Leo announced, his eyes wide with a mix of excitement and nervous dread. "Julian said I have to go to a place where people sit at desks and learn things."
Vincent walked over, knelt down on one knee, and carefully straightened the boy's tie, his large fingers working with a gentleness that surprised even himself.
"It's just like riding a bike, Leo," Vincent said, looking deep into the boy's gray eyes. "You fall down a few times, you figure out how it works, and then you own the whole track."
May you like
Leo grinned, throwing his arms around Vincent's neck. "Will you pick me up when it's over?"
"Every single day," Vincent promised.
