Cleo stood in humiliation as her aunt Verity broadcasted an audio recording of the toddler tearfully begging for food from her teddy bear, mocking her trembling lips for the amusement of the guests.

Leopold stepped out onto the granite portico, the crisp wind catching the hem of his dark overcoat.

Behind him, Damon emerged from the service corridor, having completed his task. His black suit was immaculate, his earpiece firmly in place, his face as unreadable as an iron mask. He closed the double brass doors behind them, sealing the terrified socialites inside the glittering cage of their own making.

Damon stepped down to the lead Suburban and opened the heavy, ballistic-reinforced rear door.

Leopold carefully placed Cleo onto the plush leather seat inside the warm, darkened interior of the vehicle. He reached over, clicking the child safety harness into place, making sure the straps were snug over her pale blue dress.

Cleo rested the broken teddy bear on her lap, her small fingers tracing the crushed fabric.

“Daddy?” she whispered.

“Yes, baby?”

“The man on the telephone with Auntie… the one who wasn't Uncle Garrick.”

Leopold paused, his hand resting on the doorframe. His sharp eyes narrowed. “What man, Cleo?”

Cleo looked up, her innocent gaze holding a terrifying, uncorrupted memory.

“The man who called from the boat,” Cleo said, her little voice drifting through the quiet car. “He talked to Auntie yesterday while I was in the closet. He told her that if the papers didn't work at the party, the trucks at the north gate were already loaded with the red barrels.”

A cold, electric shock traveled straight down Leopold’s spine.

Red barrels.

In the lexicon of the Great Lakes shipping syndicates, 'red barrels' did not mean petroleum or chemicals. It was the street term for the high-yield industrial explosives used in quarry demolition—the currency of the Chicago demolition crews that had waged war on the waterfront twelve years ago.

Leopold slowly backed out of the door, his jaw setting into concrete.

He looked at Damon.

“Take her directly to the compound in Bedford,” Leopold commanded, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp frequency. “Four perimeter guards on the inner gates. Nobody enters. Not even family. If a vehicle approaches the outer perimeter without transponder clearance, engage it immediately.”