Chapter 4 - The Ghost of Pier 42
Pier 42 was an industrial graveyard.
Rusted cranes rose into the rainy night like the skeletons of forgotten giants.
The Hudson River beat against rotted wooden pilings below.
The Maybach rolled to a stop two blocks away, its headlights turned completely
off.
Dominic, Vincent, and four of their elite operators stepped out into the
freezing downpour.
I stepped out with them.
Dominic turned to me, rain plastering dark strands of hair against his forehead.
“You stay in the car.”
I reached beneath my server apron, which I had finally discarded.
I pulled out a compact Glock 19 I had retrieved from my hidden go-bag in the
trunk.
I racked the slide with a clean, practiced snap.
“I’m not a civilian, Dominic.”
Dominic stared at the weapon in my hand, then at the look in my eyes.
He didn't argue.
“Stay behind Vincent. If you shoot me in the back, make sure you don't miss.”
“Don't give me a reason to,” I replied.
We moved through the shadows of the shipping containers.
Pier 42 smelled of salt water, diesel exhaust, and fresh blood.
Two bodies in black tactical gear were already lying near the entrance gate.
Julian Vance’s advance team had already cleared the perimeter guards.
“They’re inside,” Vincent whispered, checking the thermal scanner on his wrist.
“Six heat signatures on the ground floor. Three on the catwalk.”
Dominic gestured with two fingers.
Two of his men broke left toward the loading dock.
Two broke right toward the fire escape.
Dominic, Vincent, and I took the central personnel door.
The lock had been blown off with a shotgun breach.
We slipped into the vast, echoing cavern of Warehouse Four.
High above, rain drummed against corrugated iron sheets like machine-gun fire.
In the center of the warehouse, an industrial spotlight illuminated a rusted
steel sea-crate.
Standing before the crate was Julian Vance.
He wore a tailored cashmere overcoat that didn't belong in a slaughterhouse.
His silver hair was combed back slickly.
He held a titanium pry-bar in his gloved hands.
Beside him stood three mercenaries armed with FN SCAR rifles.
“Come out, Dominic!” Julian’s voice echoed across the hollow girders.
“I know your car touched the perimeter five minutes ago!”
Dominic didn't stay hidden.
He stepped straight out from behind a stack of rusted steel drums into the glare
of the work light.
“You’ve gotten sloppy, Julian,” Dominic said loudly.
His voice was terrifyingly steady.
Julian turned around with a wide, theatrical grin.
“Sloppy? I just dismantled your marriage, took your liquid capital, and forced
you out of your hole.”
“The thirty-nine million bounced, Julian,” Dominic said calmly.
Julian’s grin flickered for a fraction of a second.
A muscle beneath his right eye twitched violently.
“A temporary system glitch,” Julian sneered.
“Not a glitch,” I called out, stepping out from the shadows beside Dominic.
Julian’s eyes snapped to me.
He narrowed them, trying to place my face through the rain and dim lighting.
“Who is this? A new mistress, Dominic? You always had cheap taste.”
“Look closer, Vance,” I said, stepping into the full beam of the spotlight.
Julian tilted his head.
Then his eyes widened.
The color washed clean out of his weathered face.
“Marcus…” he whispered.
“Elena Valli,” I corrected him. “And you’re standing on the pier where you
executed my father.”
Julian let out a dry, rattling laugh to mask his shock.
“The little girl from the boarding school. You were supposed to be dead in
Zurich.”
“I was busy studying your financial infrastructure,” I said.
Julian’s gaze shifted to the crate behind him.
“Then you know what’s inside this box, don't you?”
“The black ledger,” I replied.
“Every corrupt judge. Every laundering route. The proof that you framed my
father for your cocaine imports.”
Julian clicked his tongue.
“Clever girl. Just like Marcus. Too smart for your own good.”
He raised his hand.
“Kill them,” Julian commanded his shooters.
Gunfire erupted.
Vincent tackled me to the concrete floor just as a line of rifle rounds tore
through the air where my head had been.
Dominic fired three rapid shots from behind a steel pillar.
One of Julian’s mercenaries took a bullet through the throat and collapsed over
a wooden pallet.
I rolled onto my back, brought my Glock up with both hands, and squeezed the
trigger twice.
The second rifleman took two rounds to the center chest.
He slammed hard into the steel crate and slid down, painting it red.
The remaining mercenary laid down full-auto fire, forcing Dominic and Vincent
behind concrete pylons.
Julian dropped his pry-bar and bolted toward the secondary dock door.
He was carrying a heavy, fireproof lockbox under his left arm.
“He has the ledger!” I yelled over the deafening noise.
“Cover her!” Dominic shouted.
Dominic leaned out from cover, completely exposing himself to draw the
mercenary’s fire.
A high-caliber round clipped Dominic’s left shoulder.
Blood instantly soaked through his white shirt.
He didn't even grunt.
He fired two controlled pairs directly through the shooter’s tactical visor.
The mercenary fell dead.
I didn't wait for permission.
I sprinted through the smoke, chasing Julian toward the open dock.
The cold ocean wind hit me like a wall.
Julian was twenty yards ahead, running toward an idling black speedboat moored
at the edge of the pier.
“Julian!” I screamed.
He spun around on the slick wooden planks.
He drew a snub-nosed revolver from his overcoat and aimed it straight at my
chest.
I stopped ten feet away.
My gun was raised.
His gun was raised.
The Hudson River churned violently ten feet below us.
Rain soaked through my clothes, freezing my skin.
“You drop that gun, Elena, or I put you in the river with your old man,” Julian
hissed.
“You pulled the trigger on him while he was on his knees,” I said.
My hands were steady.
My breathing was slow.
“He wouldn't sign the transfer documents,” Julian sneered.
“He was an idealist. A fool. Just like you.”
“I’m not an idealist, Julian,” I whispered.
Behind him, emerging silently from the darkness like a demon rising from the
sea, was Dominic.
His shoulder was bleeding heavily, but his eyes were pure death.
Julian heard the wet footsteps behind him half a second too late.
He tried to turn.
Dominic grabbed Julian’s gun arm and snapped the wrist over the iron railing
with a sickening crunch.
Julian screamed in agony as the revolver plunged into the dark water below.
Dominic ripped the fireproof lockbox from his grip and threw it onto the pier at
my feet.
He shoved Julian hard against the rusted railing.
Julian clutched his broken wrist, panting, terrified.
“Dominic… listen to me…” Julian gasped.
“We were partners for twenty years! We built this city together!”
Dominic stood an inch from his face.
The rain washed the blood from Dominic’s shoulder down his forearm.
“You betrayed me, Julian. You stole from my house. You put hits on my table.”
“It was business!” Julian cried out.
“This is business,” Dominic said.
Dominic didn't shoot him.
He reached down, grabbed Julian by the collar of his expensive cashmere coat,
and lifted him off his feet.
“Dominic, wait!” I shouted.
Dominic paused, holding the struggling man over the black, freezing abyss of the
river.
“The lockbox has a dead-man cipher,” I warned him.
Julian smiled through his agony, spitting blood into the rain.
“She’s right, Dominic,” Julian gasped.
“If my heart stops beating, the encryption key self-destructs.”
Julian looked at me with venomous triumph.
“You’ll never open that box, Elena. You’ll never clear your father’s name.”
Dominic tightened his grip on Julian’s collar.
Then he looked at me.
“Can you break it without him?” Dominic asked.
Before I could answer, the spotlight of a police helicopter illuminated the
entire dock in blinding white light.
A megaphone boomed across the water:
“NEW YORK POLICE DEPARTMENT! DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND STEP AWAY FROM THE EDGE!”
Dominic didn't drop his weapon.
He looked at the helicopter, then down at Julian Vance.
Julian laughed like a maniac.
“The feds are on my payroll, Dominic! You're caught red-handed!”
Dominic looked at me one last time.
May you like
“Grab the box and run,” Dominic whispered.
Then he let go of Julian’s collar.
