Page 38 of Marcellus: House of Drakos

By the time they arrived in Chicago, Bobcat Grishom still had not been located by Oz’s ground team. But when they all deplaned and headed for the motorcade, replete with bodyguards and numerous security vehicles, Oz broke off from the group. “My ride’s over there,” he said.

They all looked across the tarmac and saw a man standing at the driver side door of a sportscar so exotic none of them could name it. “I’ll let you know when I find Bobcat,” he said to Marcellus.

“Thank you, Oz,” Marcellus said like a man in a great deal of pain. His face looked like a mask of anguish.

Oz studied him as they looked into each other’s eyes. And Oz felt an emotional pull to this man who shared his blood. He seemed like a decent guy. “I can be an asshole at times,” Oz said to him.

“Yes I know,” Marcellus responded.

“And you can too.”

“Yes I can.”

“But . . . I pray your daughter is returned unharmed. I’ll do everything in my power to see to it.”

Marcellus knew, although he would never admit it, that he was a man with considerable power and a man of his word. “Thank you, Oz,” he said as he extended his hand. Oz shook it.

Oz then glanced at Alex, who gave him a quick smile of approval that Oz found cringe-worthy, and then he took off running across the tarmac.

The rest of the group got into the limousine.

Marcellus’s long-time driver Andre was behind the wheel and his long-time bodyguard Johnny was riding shotgun on the front passenger seat.

With security cars in the front and back, they began pulling off.

But Oz, behind the wheel of that sportscar, sped off past them as if they were standing still.

“Yes it’s true,” Kari said to Marcellus’s curious look. “He’s the wild child.”

They all smiled, but it was hardly a joyous smile. The stakes were too high.

They settled, instead, for silence.