Chapter 16 - The Ambush at Pier 44
The docks at Pier 44 were isolated, bathed in the sickly yellow glow of sparse sodium streetlights. The freezing wind whipped off Lake Michigan, carrying the smell of salt, rust, and old oil.
Massive steel shipping containers were stacked like metallic mountains, creating a dark, winding labyrinth of shadows.
A black sedan pulled up to the edge of the pier. The headlights cut through the heavy fog rolling in off the water.
Annie stepped out of the car. She was wearing a heavy wool coat, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. She walked alone toward the center of the pier, her boots clicking softly against the wet pavement.
Sylvia emerged from the shadows between two rusted containers. She clutched a leather briefcase to her chest, looking around nervously, playing the part of a terrified defector perfectly.
You came alone, Sylvia said, her voice shaking with mock fear. I didn't think you would trust me.
Annie stopped ten feet away from her treacherous aunt. Her face was entirely unreadable, a mask of cold, corporate detachment mixed with street-level stoicism.
I don't trust you, Sylvia, Annie replied, her voice steady over the howling wind. But I want Victor Vance’s shipping routes, and I want Marcus back in a cage. Give me the files.
Sylvia took a step forward, holding out the briefcase.
Her lips twitched into a cruel, triumphant smile.
You really are just a naive little girl, Sylvia whispered.
The heavy steel doors of the shipping containers around them suddenly slammed open.
Two dozen heavily armed mercenaries poured out of the steel boxes, forming a tight, inescapable circle around Annie. They raised assault rifles, the red laser sights painting dozens of dots across Annie’s coat.
Victor Vance stepped out from behind the mercenaries, accompanied by Marcus.
Vance was smiling, looking at Annie like she was a helpless deer caught in a bear trap.
Annie Moretti, Vance said smoothly, walking closer. I must admit, I expected more from the heir to the great Daniel Moretti. Walking blindly into a trap for a briefcase full of blank paper. It is almost disappointing.
Marcus glared at her, his hands twitching with nervous energy. Let's just finish this, Vance. Shoot her and throw her in the lake.
Annie did not panic. She did not scream. She did not even take a step back.
She looked at the red laser dots on her chest, then slowly looked up to meet Vance’s arrogant gaze.
You are a hedge fund manager, Mr. Vance, Annie said softly, her voice carrying an eerie, unnatural calm. You specialize in hostile takeovers. You look for vulnerabilities in a company, exploit them, and acquire the assets.
Vance frowned, confused by her complete lack of fear. What is your point, little girl?
Annie tilted her head slightly, the wind blowing her dark hair across her face.
My point is that you do not understand the asset you are trying to acquire, Annie replied. You think you walked into a boardroom to intimidate a CEO. But you didn't.
Annie slowly reached into her pocket.
The mercenaries tensed, their fingers tightening on their triggers.
Shoot her! Marcus screamed, panic finally taking over.
Annie pulled her hand out of her pocket. She wasn't holding a gun.
She was holding a heavy, solid silver coin bearing the crest of a roaring lion.
She dropped the coin on the wet pavement. It landed with a sharp, echoing clink.
You walked into my grandfather's city, Annie whispered, her eyes turning pitch black with righteous fury.
Suddenly, the floodlights on the massive shipping cranes high above them snapped on, blinding Vance and his mercenaries.
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The deafening roar of high-powered engines echoed through the fog as six armored SUVs smashed through the chain-link gates of the pier, blocking the only exit.
The real trap hadn't been set by Sylvia. It had been set by the King's heir.
