Chapter 5 - Fire on Pier 44Midnight at Pier 44 looked like something out of a neo-noir nightmare.
A thick, creeping fog rolled in off Boston Harbor, mixing with the heavy, choking diesel exhaust of dozens of idling shipping trucks. Rows of towering, multi-colored steel containers formed a labyrinth of claustrophobic alleyways leading down to the water’s edge.
My SUV crept silently down the main access road with its headlights doused, guided only by the faint green glow of our dashboard night-vision HUDs.
We stopped fifty yards short of the central loading dock where a massive, reinforced mobile command trailer sat illuminated by harsh floodlights. Four Blackwood mercenaries stood outside the trailer doors, automatic rifles slung across their chests, scanning the fog with bored indifference.
They didn't expect anyone to fight back. They thought we were broken, cornered animals coming to beg for mercy.
“Time to move,” I whispered, cutting the ignition.
Elena slipped out of the passenger side with surprising agility, her movements smooth and silent despite her cracked ribs. I drew my Sig Sauer and checked the chamber.
We moved along the shadow of a towering twenty-foot shipping container, melting into the fog like ghosts.
Crack!
A sharp, deafening sniper shot echoed from the upper catwalks above us, followed instantly by the dull thud of a mercenary dropping face-first onto the asphalt.
Marcus’s voice crackled softly over our encrypted earpieces. “Catwalks are clear. North sector is yours, boss. Go get ‘em.”
The sound of the shot shattered the calm of the pier in an instant. Alarms blared across the facility, emergency floodlights snapped on all at once, and shouting voices echoed between the metal containers as Caldwell’s men scrambled into defensive positions.
“Move, move, move!” I hissed, grabbing Elena’s hand and sprinting across the open pavement toward the command trailer.
Two mercenaries rounded the corner of a container, their rifles snapping up—
Bang! Bang!
Felix’s suppressed submachine gun chattered from the shadows on our left, dropping both men before they could pull their triggers.
We reached the base of the trailer steps in a heartbeat.
I kicked the metal door open with my boot, clearing the threshold with my weapon raised, sweeping the interior in one fluid motion.
The trailer was a high-tech nerve center lined with glowing monitors, encrypted servers, and racks of communication gear.
At the far end of the room, sitting behind a massive steel desk with a martini glass in his hand, sat Vincent Caldwell.
He didn't look scared. In fact, he looked mildly amused, as if he were watching a moderately entertaining play unfold on Broadway.
Standing beside him was a towering brute of a man with a shaved head and a vicious vertical scar running down his cheek—Viktor, the enforcer, holding a heavy-duty spool of razor wire in his thick hands.
“Well, well,” Vincent drawled, setting his glass down on the desk with a soft clink. “Look who decided to RSVP to the party. I must admit, Dominic, I didn't think you had the stomach to walk right into the lion’s den.”
“The lion’s den looks a little drafty, Vincent,” I replied, keeping my pistol locked dead on the center of his chest while Elena slipped past me toward the primary server rack with her encrypted deck in hand.
Vincent chuckled, leaning back in his leather chair. “You really think you’re going to walk out of here alive, boy? My men have this entire pier surrounded. You brought twenty men against a hundred. You’re entirely outgunned.”
“Maybe,” I said, my finger tightening slightly on the trigger. “But she’s already plugged into your network.”
Vincent’s amused smirk instantly vanished. His head snapped toward Elena.
“Stop her!” Vincent roared, leaping out of his chair.
May you like
Viktor lunged forward like a charging rhino, abandoning the razor wire and drawing a heavy combat knife, charging straight toward Elena at the server rack.
“Oh no you don't,” I snarled, stepping directly into his path.
