Mystery and Crime Fiction posted March 12, 2025 Chapters:  ...50 51 -52- 53... 


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The Raids Begin
A chapter in the book Veil of Secrets

Veil of Secrets - Chap 52

by Begin Again



The Red Phoenix was a relic of Bayside's worst days — its neon sign flickering like a dying heartbeat, barely illuminating the cracked sidewalk below. The stench of cigarette smoke and stale beer hung in the air, mixing with the lingering grease from a deep fryer that had seen better years. Bars covered the windows; decades of brawls battered the door, yet none of that mattered.

The real business wasn't done here.

Behind the wall, a doorway led to a private elevator that sank deep beneath the city, far from prying eyes. Down there, the floors gleamed with polished marble, the scent of top-shelf whiskey replaced the sour tang of cheap beer, and the stakes were high. Zhang's casino wasn't just a gambling den. It was a money-laundering empire, a fortress where debts were collected in blood.

But tonight? Frank DiVito, Jack Lexington, and Danny Veraci would tear it to the ground.

Frank DiVito sat at the bar, nursing a whiskey he had no intention of drinking. The glass was cloudy, the liquor cheap, but it served its purpose — made him look like he belonged. Across the room, Jack Lexington, with cue stick in hand, stood near the pool tables, his sharp suit rumpled just enough to blend in.

Frank swirled the whiskey, keeping his expression neutral. He already knew that Zhang's real guests never used the front entrance. The high-rollers who made money disappear with the stroke of a pen came through the back —through a secured garage where SUVs and sedans lined up in neat rows.
The bartender poured another drink, eyes flicking to the steel door behind him. Frank caught the glance, subtle as it was. The guy knew who belonged and who didn't.

Danny Veraci adjusted his suit as he approached the bar, playing the role of a high-roller. His walk was loose, a little unsteady — just another gambler looking for one last shot at winning big. He pushed open the door, glancing around the room before sliding onto a stool.

"Back room still open?" Danny slurred, slipping a thick roll of cash onto the counter.

The bartender hesitated, eyeing him with suspicion before palming the money. His fingers twitched under the bar, pressing a hidden button. Near the dartboard, a panel in the wall clicked open, revealing an elevator.

Danny smirked, tapping the counter. "That's what I thought."

Frank set his glass down. "Guess that's our cue."

The front doors burst open as tactical teams stormed in. Gunfire erupted.

The air filled with the deafening Crack! Crack! Crack! of suppressed rounds as Zhang's men flooded inside. Chaos followed — barstools overturned, glass shattered, and the heavy scent of gunpowder filled the air.

Danny moved first. The bartender barely had time to react before Danny grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. "Where's the office?"

Jack didn't hesitate. A bodyguard reached for his weapon — too slow. Jack caught him by the wrist, twisted hard, and then sent him crashing face-first into the bar. The man crumpled, blood pooling beneath his broken nose.

Zhang's men scrambled in the back. Some tried to run, others reached for weapons, but it was already too late.

A deep, shuddering boom shook the building as the tactical unit rammed through the back gate.

Frank moved fast, pushing past the bartender as gunfire rattled the air. Through the narrow back hall, past the storerooms, he caught sight of Zhang's men bolting for the backdoor — their only way out, but not tonight.

The first guard barely made it through the doors before a burst of automatic fire cut him down. The others hesitated, then raised their hands as the tactical team flooded the underground garage.

It was over in seconds.

Danny wiped the sweat from his brow. He turned toward the back office, breathing hard. He found the door locked, but it didn't matter. He kicked it open.

The moment the breach alarm blared, security scrambled. In the surveillance room, men yanked hard drives from the servers and wiped the footage clean. In the back offices, ledgers, account books, and stacks of cash disappeared into bags.

Flames flickered in the fireplace. A man struck a match and dropped it onto an open ledger. The pages curled black, the ink vanishing in the fire.

When the door slammed open, Danny didn't come in alone. Frank DiVito was at his side, and Jack Lexington was right behind them, gun up. Zhang's men reacted fast — too fast for Danny's liking.

The first guy lunged for Frank — a bad move. Frank sidestepped, grabbed the man's wrist, and twisted — a sickening pop echoed through the room. The guy screamed, but Frank didn't let go. He drove a fist into the man's stomach, dropping him in one hit, smirking, "Not bad for an old man!"

The second man went for a gun. Jack was faster. One clean crack of a pistol butt to the temple, and the guy went limp.

Danny barely had time to breathe before he saw the third man dumping more ledgers into the flames.

"Son of a—" He lunged, yanking the guy back by the collar of his shirt. They both stumbled, knocking over a chair. The man twisted, throwing an elbow that caught Danny hard across the jaw.

Pain exploded through Danny's skull, white-hot and familiar. He staggered back, dizzy for half a second — long enough for the guy to grab a poker from the fireplace. The bastard swung.

Danny barely ducked in time. The iron rod hissed past his ear, heat scorching his skin.

Before the guy could take another swing, Frank's gun cocked. "Drop it," Frank ordered, voice flat. "Or I drop you."

The guy hesitated. Then he dropped the poker.

Danny exhaled, shaking the pain from his jaw. He shot Frank a look. "I had that."

Frank smirked. "Sure you did."

Danny turned back to the burning ledger. He ripped it from the flames, batting at the embers with his jacket. The pages curled, and the edges blackened, but enough was still readable.

Jack whistled low, staring at the damage. "That almost went up in smoke."

"Yeah," Danny muttered. "And Zhang almost got away with it."

Something caught his eye —  a burner phone still sitting on the desk. Danny grabbed it and checked the call log. There was one number but no name.
Without thinking, he hit redial. The line buzzed, and someone picked it up on the other end.
A low, controlled female voice spoke, "This better be good." She stopped. Silence stretched. Danny didn't talk or breathe. The call cut off.
He stared at the dead screen. Whoever answered that phone hadn't been expecting him.

Jack leaned against the doorway, gun still in hand. "Who the hell was that?"

Danny didn't look at him. "No idea," he admitted. "But we just made someone real nervous."
 
*****

Across town, another raid was underway — this time on a warehouse near the Bayside docks, a hulking structure reeking of decay. Its rusted metal exterior blended seamlessly into the industrial sprawl, but inside, the illicit business flourished — until tonight.

Tonight, it was the target.

DeLuca pressed his back against the cold steel of a shipping container, his fingers tightening around the grip of his gun. The steady hum of machinery drowned the distant sound of waves slapping against the docks. Danni crouched beside him, her sharp gaze locked on the entrance.

DeLuca's voice crackled through the radio. "We're in position. Tango, Poppa — ready on your end?"

A sharp affirmative came back from the FBI agents.

Danni narrowed her eyes. "Something's off."

"Yeah? Like what?" DeLuca asked.

She scanned the warehouse. The usual signs were missing — no lookouts, no guards on the roof, and no sign of Zhang's usual paranoia. "This place isn't locked down the way it should be. Either they're too confident, or we're missing something. Zhang's men don't usually deal out of dumps like this," she muttered.

"Doesn't matter," DeLuca said, shifting his rifle. "If Zhang's got his hands in the drug game now, we need to shut it down fast."

Poppa and Tango had their weapons ready. Tactical teams flanked the opposite exits, cutting off any possible escape routes. The operation was tight and controlled, with no margin for error.

A loud creak shattered the silence as a steel door swung open. A man stepped out, lighting a cigarette, oblivious to the imminent danger.

DeLuca acted instantly, surging forward and slamming the man against the wall. The cigarette tumbled to the ground. DeLuca yelled, "Go!"

The first breach team hit the loading dock doors, slamming a battering ram into the rusted steel. The impact echoed through the night, followed by the screech of metal tearing apart.

From inside — panic. Shouting. A scramble of feet.

Tango called out to his team, "Go! Go! Go!"

Smoke bombs rolled in, spilling thick plumes of white fog as the team stormed inside. Gunfire erupted.

Danni moved fast, ducking as bullets splintered wood and ricocheted off metal beams. A worker tried to bolt for the back exit — bad move. Poppa caught him mid-stride, slamming him into a stack of crates. "You going somewhere?" Poppa growled, wrenching the guy's arms behind his back.
The chaos slowed, bodies hitting the floor in surrender as the team took control.

DeLuca stepped over a spilled bag of heroin, kicking a pistol out of reach. "That's it? I was expecting more of a fight."

Tango, clearing the office, called out from the back. "You're gonna want to see this."

DeLuca exchanged a glance with Danni and moved fast, stepping into the warehouse office. The space reeked of sweat and burnt chemicals, the desk littered with half-finished accounting books and burner phones.

But it was the back room that made them all stop.

The cooler door groaned as DeLuca pulled it open. A blast of frigid air hit him, prickling his skin. The light inside flickered, casting pale shadows over the contents. Then, he saw them — two bodies wrapped tightly and tagged like cargo. His stomach clenched. "Oh, man."

Danni's breath hitched beside him. "Tell me that doesn't say 'Morgue Shipment' on it."

Poppa exhaled sharply, flipping through a clipboard lying on a nearby table. "Scheduled for pickup two days ago. Morgue as the destination."

DeLuca clenched his jaw. "If Zhang's men killed the coroner, why keep this running? He'd have known it would shut down his operation."

Tango's voice cut through the tension. "Because it wasn't Zhang's operation."
Silence hung in the cold air.

Tango lifted a burned ledger from a trash bin, flipping through what little remained. A handwritten note stood out at the bottom — A.G. — Shipment Confirmed — special handling required.

Danni's eyes met DeLuca's gaze. "Who the hell is A.G.?" Her gut twisted. She reached deeper into the bin, pulling out a charred envelope. The logo was barely visible, but the letters "F.D.A." were stamped on the corner. "Oh, hell no." Danni swallowed. "Tell me we're not looking at a government cover-up."

DeLuca shook his head. "The coroner wasn't smart enough to pull this off alone. So, who is behind this?"

Tango folded his arms. "Could be anyone."

Poppa blew out a slow breath. "Who has the power to run drugs right under our noses and make it look legal?"

No one answered because that was the real question. Zhang had power, but not that kind of power. The coroner was nothing more than a disposable pawn. This meant whoever was behind this had connections high enough to ensure no one asked questions.

A phone buzzed.

The entire room went silent. DeLuca turned to the desk and spotted a burner phone vibrating between the scattered paperwork. UNKNOWN NUMBER.

He snatched it up, answering with a sharp, "Hello?"

A female voice came through. "Clear out now. Destroy everything." The line went dead.

The Tango's radio crackled. "Command to Tango — we've got movement outside. Two vehicles just pulled up, dumped something, and took off. No engagement."

DeLuca's gut twisted. "What did they dump?"

Before anyone answered, the warehouse trembled as an explosion rocked the far side of the building. A second blast followed — blasting through the walls.

The fire alarms wailed, smoke already curling from the storage area. Danni spun toward the corridor. "Shit. They're torching the evidence."

Poppa turned toward the cooler. "We need to get those bodies out now!"

Tango was already moving. "They're sealing this place in flames. If we don't move fast, we're part of the cleanup."

The walls groaned as the fire rolled through the rafters. Overhead, ceiling beams cracked, dust raining down as the heat surged.

DeLuca didn't hesitate. "Poppa, get the bodies out through the side window. Tango, grab anything that's still intact. Danni, get us a way out."

Outside, the black SUVs were already disappearing into the night. There was no firefight, no confrontation, just destruction. The cleanup crew didn't need guns. Fire and explosives would do the job just fine.

With no time to think, none of them knew what was happening at the remaining raids or if Garth had found Zhang. They were too busy reclaiming Bayside from the criminals and trying to stay alive.
 

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Spirits from the past -
Eleanor Bennett - ghost detective
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Matthew Donatelli

Current Characters -Bayside's Community --
Jenna Bennett - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, Maggie's mother, Donatelli's love
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective and Maggie's father
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie) and interested in Rebecca
Rebecca Cascio Stillwell - recently inherited the Vineyard after discovering her adoption
Joseph DeLuca - Bayside detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge, nemesis to all, and deceased
Vince Rossi - mobster and Doyle's cellmate and now witness protection
Judge Alex Garland - the man trying to step into John Doyles corrupt shoes
Rosalie Jarvis - a lawyer currently on Zhang's payroll
Nathaniel Devereaux - International Art Dealer
Criminals - Good and Bad
Zhang Wei - once involved in human trafficking with Doyle, seeks revenge for his career losses after Doyle's downfall from the Judge's bench.
Frank DiVito - retired gangster and childhood friend of Garth
Sam - Frankie's right-hand man and friend
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
Danny Veraci -a dear friend from the past and casino owner
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