Gabriel grabbed his coat from the chair and motioned for me to follow him out the door.

We moved quickly down the hotel corridor, the thick carpet muffling our steps.

“The foundation money is gone, Richard,” I said into the receiver. “And the letters are safe with me.”

“You don’t know half of it,” he snarled. “Your mother was weak. She was going to ruin everything we built. I won’t let you do the same.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the black screen as the elevator doors slid open.

Gabriel guided me inside, his hand firm on my lower back.

“My team is tracking the signal,” Gabriel said, pressing the button for the parking garage. “It came from a burner phone near the expressway.”

“He’s desperate,” I said.

“Desperate people make mistakes,” Gabriel replied.

We stepped out into the garage.

The rain was coming down hard now, drumming against the concrete ceiling of the entrance.

A black SUV pulled up to the curb, its headlights cutting through the gray Chicago downpour.

One of Gabriel’s drivers, a broad-shouldered man named Vance, opened the rear door for us.