We drove south toward the Loop, the massive skyscrapers rising like ghosts in the blizzard.

Luca stopped the SUV near the rusted iron grates of the plaza.

I grabbed my heavy flashlight and stepped out into the biting cold.

“Stay here,” I told him.

“If I’m not back in an hour, come looking.”

I pulled the heavy iron hatch open, the metal screaming against the ice.

I shone my light down into the dark, damp throat of the city.

The concrete stairs descended into absolute blackness.

I took my first step down, the wind whistling through the grate above me.

My phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled the vibrating phone from my heavy coat.

The screen lit up my face in the dark of the stairwell.

It was an unknown number.

A single text message appeared on the glass.

*He knows you are down there.*

I stared at the screen for three seconds.

The wind from the street above whistled through the iron grate, throwing a spray of fine snow against my neck.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket and did not reply.