Chapter 12 - The Midnight Raid On Pier Forty-Two
The roar of the water was deafening.
A torrent of black Atlantic surf churned through the iron floodgates.
It hit the concrete floor like a waterfall.
The basin was filling with terrifying speed.
Ankle-deep.
Shin-deep.
Knee-deep within two minutes.
Julian Sterling stood in the rising foam, laughing like a madman.
“Die with your father’s pride!” he shouted.
Tobias lunged forward.
He seized the old man by his wool coat.
He threw him against an iron ladder bolted to the dry dock wall.
“Where is the manual shutoff?” Tobias roared over the sound of the deluge.
Julian spat in his face.
“At the bottom of the intake shaft!” Julian cackled.
“Under forty feet of steel!”
“You can’t stop it, boy!”
I rushed to the gurney where Penelope lay.
The water was already lapping at the mattress.
The cold liquid was soaking through her hospital gown.
Her teeth were chattering violently.
“Rosalind... please...” she sobbed.
“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...”
I pulled my tactical blade from my belt.
I sliced through the thick leather straps binding her wrists.
I cut the restraints across her ankles.
She rolled off the table into the freezing water.
She couldn't stand.
The blood loss and trauma had destroyed her strength.
I caught her under the arms.
I hoisted her weight onto my shoulder.
“Toby!” I screamed across the basin.
“We have to get to the upper gantry!”
The water was at our waists now.
Floating wooden pallets and chemical drums bounced against our legs.
Tobias dragged Julian Sterling toward the iron ladder.
“Climb, you old bastard!” Tobias ordered.
Julian refused to move.
He let his legs go limp.
He smiled with rotten teeth.
“I lived ninety years,” Julian whispered.
“I watched your grandfather choke on his own blood.”
“I watched your parents burn on that highway.”
“I have seen enough.”
A sudden surge of water knocked Tobias off his feet.
The current ripped Julian Sterling from his grip.
The old man was swept into the swirling vortex near the intake gates.
His silver cane clattered across the iron grates before disappearing into the
black deep.
Julian’s dark glasses floated to the surface.
Then he was gone.
Swallowed by the very water he had unleashed.
Tobias surfaced, spitting brine.
He swam toward us with powerful strokes.
He grabbed Penelope’s other arm.
Together, we dragged her toward the maintenance ladder.
The water reached our chests.
It was the SUV all over again.
The same freezing weight.
The same suffocating terror.
Only this time, Tobias wasn't trapped.
And I wasn't tied down.
“Climb, Rosalind!” Tobias yelled.
I pushed Penelope onto the first rung of the iron ladder.
“Climb, Penelope!” I commanded.
“Think about the baby!”
“Move your hands!”
The instinct to survive kicked into Penelope’s broken body.
She grabbed the rusted rungs.
She pulled herself up inch by inch.
I climbed directly behind her, supporting her waist with my head and shoulder.
Tobias brought up the rear.
The water chased us up the wall.
Ten feet.
Twenty feet.
Thirty feet.
The basin was turning into an artificial lake.
We reached the high catwalk just as the water level stabilized six feet below
us.
We collapsed onto the rusted steel grating.
All three of us lay there, gasping for air.
Our chests heaved in unison.
The roar of the rushing water subsided into a steady, hollow lap.
It was eleven-fifty-eight.
Two minutes before noon.
Penelope turned onto her side.
She reached out with a trembling, muddy hand.
She touched my wrist.
Her tears washed clean lines through the grime on her cheeks.
“Why?” Penelope choked out.
“I tried to help Garrett murder you.”
“I tried to steal your name.”
“Why didn't you let me drown?”
I looked down at her.
My soaked hair was plastered against my skull.
My hands were raw and bleeding.
“Because you’re my sister,” I said softly.
“And because my parents didn't raise killers.”
“They raised builders.”
A sudden sound broke through the cavernous room.
From the top of the dry dock elevator shaft came the sound of applause.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Arrogant.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
We scrambled to look up.
Standing on the high crane platform above the catwalk was Garrett Vance.
He was not in police custody.
He wore a dark tactical vest over his torn suit.
His broken wrist was wrapped tightly in black duct tape.
In his good hand, he held a high-powered military carbine.
Beside him stood three rogue port authority officers.
Men who had been on Julian Sterling’s payroll for decades.
“Touching, Rosalind,” Garrett called down.
His voice was dripping with venom.
“Truly touching.”
“A beautiful family reunion.”
He leveled the carbine directly at my heart.
“Marcus couldn't hold me,” Garrett sneered.
“The city police are useless.”
“Julian is dead, which means the whole inheritance passes to the surviving legal
corporation.”
“And that corporation is me.”
He checked his wristwatch.
“It is eleven-fifty-nine.”
May you like
“In sixty seconds, the trust expires.”
“And you three will be another tragic accident at the bottom of Warehouse Nine.”
