On the morning of the final municipal redevelopment zoning vote, Arthur awoke to the clank of metal. He peered through his front window. Harrison’s private guards were locking the exterior chains on his wrought-iron gate, sealing him inside. The barricades now felt like a cage.
A soft tap at his back door. Arthur opened it to find Samuel O’Reilly and Eleanor, standing beside a nondescript delivery van parked in the narrow rear service alley. Eleanor held a pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters.
“Dad,” Eleanor whispered, her voice urgent. “We don’t have much time.”
She moved to the old wooden garden fence, snapping the lock with a sharp *clack*. Arthur, still stiff and sore from his collapse, grimaced but followed. He moved through the frozen, overgrown yard, his breath puffing in the crisp morning air, Eleanor steadying him. He climbed into the back of the van, settling onto an old moving blanket. Chloe Danvers, already inside, gave him a quick, encouraging nod.
“They think you’re still trapped, Alderman,” Chloe said, starting the van. “Harrison’s at City Hall, probably gloating.”
The van rumbled to life, Eleanor quickly securing the fence behind them. As Chloe pulled out of the alley, Arthur looked back at his brownstone, the locked gates a symbol of Harrison’s arrogance.
“Where are we going, Chloe?” Arthur asked, a renewed sense of purpose replacing the fear. “The zoning hearing?”
Chloe glanced in the rearview mirror, a determined glint in her eye. “Not exactly, Alderman. We’re going to crash a party.”
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