Chapter 7 - The Ghost in the Kitchen

It was 3:00 AM when they arrived at the loading dock of the Romano Group's flagship restaurant in Manhattan.
The rain was pouring in sheets, washing the grime from the city streets.
Two heavily armed guards stood by the employee entrance, smoking cigarettes under a large black umbrella.
"We can't take them both out silently," Sofia whispered from behind a dumpster.
"We don't have to," Anthony replied, pulling a small silver remote from his pocket.
It was the master override for the restaurant's refrigeration system.
He pressed a sequence of buttons.
Suddenly, a massive alarm began blaring from the roof, accompanied by thick, white plumes of liquid nitrogen venting into the alley.
"Freon leak!" one of the guards shouted, dropping his cigarette.
Both men ran toward the emergency shut-off valves on the other side of the building.
"Go, go, go," Anthony hissed.
He swiped a master keycard he had hidden under a loose brick years ago, and the heavy metal door clicked open.
They slipped inside, instantly enveloped by the familiar scents of garlic, aged cheese, and cold stainless steel.
The kitchen was dark and silent, a ghost town of gleaming copper pots and empty prep stations.
They moved quickly and silently, avoiding the remaining security cameras that Sofia pointed out.
"Marcus's office is on the top floor," Anthony whispered as they reached the service elevator.
"We can't use the elevator; they'll track the movement," Sofia said.
"We take the stairs. The fire escape route doesn't have cameras."
They climbed four flights of stairs in total darkness, their breathing heavy in the silent stairwell.
When they reached the fourth-floor landing, Anthony slowly pushed the heavy fire door open.
The hallway leading to the executive offices was bathed in emergency lighting.
And standing right in front of Marcus's office door was Preston.
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He held his suppressed pistol, a nasty burn covering the right side of his face.
"I knew you were arrogant enough to come back, old man," Preston sneered.