Chapter 4 - Shadows At Harrow Street
""Get down!"" Dante moved with the sudden, violent grace of a striking wolf. He grabbed Elena by the shoulder and shoved her behind the brick partition of the kitchen just as a burst of automatic gunfire tore through the living room window.
Glass rained across the cheap rug like hail. Sophie screamed, curling into a tight ball beneath the sofa.
Dante reached beneath his armpit and drew a custom black semi-automatic pistol, cocking the slide in a single fluid motion. He didn't flinch as chunks of plaster exploded from the drywall above his head. He pulled his phone from his vest pocket with his left hand, pressing a single speed dial.
""Marco. Status.""
""Two shooters on the fire escape, boss,"" Marco’s rough voice crackled through the speaker over the roaring engine of the Mercedes outside. ""I took out the driver in the sedan, but Vincent brought clean-up professionals from New York. They’re breaching the ground floor fire doors right now!""
""Hold the stairwell. I'm bringing them down the service chute,"" Dante ordered before ending the call. He turned his gaze toward Elena. Her face was chalk-white, but her medical training kicked in through the shock. She had already crawled on her belly toward Sophie, pulling the terrified girl beneath her chest to shield her from the flying debris.
""Can you run?"" Dante demanded, his voice low, firm, and grounding.
""Where?"" Elena cried over the deafening echoes of boots slamming against the wooden stairs out in the hallway. ""They've surrounded the building!""
""With me,"" Dante said. ""You wanted justice for Clara? You won't get it lying in a pool of blood on your kitchen floor. Sophie, look at me.""
The little girl lifted her tear-streaked face from Elena's chest. She saw the tall man holding the large black gun, but she did not see a monster. She saw the man who had bought her wilted daisies for twenty dollars.
""Do you trust your aunt?"" Dante asked gently.
Sophie nodded rapidly, hiccuping against her woolen sleeve.
""Then take my hand. We are going to take a very fast elevator.""
Dante kicked open the narrow pantry door at the back of the kitchen. Behind a stack of canned tomatoes sat an old rusted iron door, bolted into the original brick chimney—an abandoned dumbwaiter shaft dating back to the building’s construction in 1920.
He ripped the iron latch open with bare hands, ignoring the rust that bit into his skin. The heavy pulley cables groaned in the darkness. ""The carriage is resting on the basement landing. The counterweight ladder inside the shaft is solid iron. Elena, climb first. I will lower Sophie down to you.""
The front door of the apartment splintered inward under a heavy breaching sledge. Gunsmoke and the smell of cordite filled the corridor.
""Move!"" Dante snarled, spinning around the doorframe and firing three deafening shots through the living room drywall. A grunt of pain echoed from the hallway as one of the masked intruders collapsed against the umbrella stand.
Elena scrambled into the narrow brick shaft, her fingers digging into the cold iron rungs. ""Sophie, reach for me baby! Reach for Auntie!""
Dante lifted Sophie by her waist, shielding her head with his broad arm, and lowered her down into the darkness until Elena's arms caught her securely.
""Climb down! Do not stop until your feet hit the coal bins!"" Dante shouted down the shaft.
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He reached into his pocket, pulled the yellow daisy bouquet from the counter, stuffed it into his breast pocket, and tossed a small flash grenade toward the shattered front doorway.
The blinding detonation rocked the entire third floor. Before the smoke could clear, Dante swung himself into the shaft, pulling the iron hatch shut behind him, plunging them into the cold, breathing dark.
