Chapter 7 - Blood on the Conveyor
Luca hit the concrete floor hard, his rifle clattering away into the darkness beneath a rusty boiler.
Above him stood Dominic Rossi, his face bruised and his eyes burning with frantic desperation.
"You just wouldn't stay in that damn chair, would you, Luca?!" Dominic roared, raising the heavy pipe with both hands.
Elena fired from the shadows of the pipe junction, the bullet tearing through Dominic's upper arm.
Dominic screamed, dropping the iron pipe and lunging behind a heavy steel conveyor motor.
"Kill them both!" Dominic shrieked to the surrounding darkness.
Three Russian enforcers materialized from between the towering rows of hanging meat hooks, opening fire with automatic submachine guns.
Bullets sparked off the iron machinery, forcing Elena to dive behind a concrete pillar.
Luca scrambled across the slick floor, his hands finding the grip of his backup sidearm.
He rolled onto his back and fired three rapid shots, dropping the lead enforcer instantly.
The second gunman charged toward Elena, but Luca surged upward from the floor with an explosive burst of adrenaline.
He caught the gunman by the throat, slamming him violently against the edge of an industrial slicing table until the man went limp.
The third enforcer tried to bring his shotgun to bear, but Tommy appeared at the top of the maintenance chute.
The boy dropped a fifty-pound industrial pulley from the catwalk above, striking the shooter squarely on the helmet and knocking him out cold.
"Nice drop, kid!" Luca shouted, catching his breath as his knees buckled momentarily.
"Hurry, Mr. Costello!" Tommy yelled from the catwalk.
"They're taking Maya up to the incinerator tower!"
Elena ran to Luca's side, supporting his left shoulder as they navigated the maze of stainless-steel machinery.
The air grew progressively hotter, smelling of scorched iron and burning coal.
They reached the entrance to the central furnace room, where an enormous industrial incinerator glowed with terrifying crimson light.
Maya was suspended in a steel wire cage directly above the open maw of the furnace, the flames licking at the bottom bars.
Standing at the control console was Viktor Petrov, holding an electronic winch remote.
Standing beside him were four heavily armed Russian syndicate captains.
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"Welcome to the family reunion, Costello," Viktor said, his thumb resting casually on the release button.
"One click, and your little bastard drops into five thousand degrees of burning coke."
