Chapter 12 - The Confession on the High Seas: Sinking the Final Smuggling Shipment
Before Julian or Morales could draw their weapons on Chloe, a sudden, blinding roar of light shattered the darkness.
Four massive, fifty-thousand-lumen stadium floodlights positioned on the roof of the shipyard drydocks flared to life simultaneously, turning the midnight pier into high noon.
“FBI! NCIS! NOBODY MOVE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!”
The deafening wail of federal sirens erupted from all sides. Four armored SWAT BearCats smashed through the perimeter gates, blocking every vehicle exit. From the bay, two high-speed 45-foot Coast Guard tactical response boats cut through the fog, their heavy .50-caliber machine guns trained directly on the deck of the Sirena Star.
“It’s a setup!” Morales screamed, pulling a machine pistol from beneath his coat and firing wildly toward the perimeter gates. “Kill them all! Scuttle the containers!”
Morales’s mercenaries opened fire. The pier instantly erupted into a chaotic warzone of muzzle flashes, ricocheting steel, and shouting.
High on the catwalk, Mason fired three precision shots.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The three primary mercenaries aiming at the advancing federal agents collapsed to the concrete, their weapons clattering harmlessly away.
Julian didn't fight. He didn't even look back at Chloe.
The moment the sirens sounded, Julian turned on his heel and sprinted toward the gangway of the Sirena Star, desperate to lose himself in the maze of shipping containers on the cargo ship.
“Valerie, he’s boarding the vessel!” Mason shouted over the roar of gunfire.
“He’s mine,” I replied.
I clipped my tactical descent harness to the high-speed crane cable, grabbed the descender brake, and leaped off the eighty-foot catwalk.
The wind roared in my ears as I plummeted through the floodlights, braking smoothly and landing with a heavy roll on the steel deck of the Sirena Star just as Julian reached the main container corridor.
Down on the pier, the federal strike force overwhelmed Morales’s crew within sixty seconds. Morales was tackled to the concrete, handcuffed, and pinned beneath the boots of four NCIS tactical operators. Chloe dropped her weapon, collapsing onto her knees, screaming and sobbing as federal agents cuffed her hands behind her back.
Up on the ship, Julian ran frantically between the towering stacks of shipping containers, clutching a waterproof briefcase containing forty million dollars in bearer bonds he had brought from his office safe.
He reached the stern of the vessel, preparing to leap over the railing into the dark waters of the bay to swim toward the civilian marina.
He threw his leg over the rail.
“Going for another swim, Julian?” a voice called out through the shadows.
Julian froze.
He slowly turned around, breathing heavily, sweat stinging his eyes.
I stepped out from behind the shadow of a container. I unclipped my tactical helmet, threw it aside, and stepped into the direct beam of the floodlights.
My natural chestnut hair fell over my shoulders. My hazel eyes locked onto his. I wore no makeup, no disguises, and no mask.
It was Valerie Sterling.
Alive.
Standing ten feet away from him, holding a tactical shotgun leveled directly at his chest.
Julian’s face turned into a mask of unadulterated, sanity-shattering horror. His jaw dropped, his knees buckled, and his briefcase slipped from his trembling fingers, hitting the steel deck with a loud thump.
“V... Valerie...?” Julian stammered, his voice climbing into a terrified shriek. “You’re... you’re dead! I watched you sink! I watched the car fill with water! You drowned!”
“You watched me drown, Julian,” I said, stepping forward, the pump-action shotgun clicking as I racked a shell into the chamber. “Just like you watched Chloe smile. Just like you poisoned my milk for eight months. Just like your father murdered my parents fifteen years ago.”
Julian backed away until his spine slammed against the ship’s railing. Below him, forty feet down, the icy, churning black water of the bay roared against the hull.
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“No... no, this is impossible! You're a ghost! You’re not real!” Julian hyperventilated, clawing at his chest.
“I am the ghost you created,” I said, stopping five feet from him. “And tonight, your little empire goes down with the ship.”
