Chapter 8 - The Shadow of Don Delacroix
The black cliffs of Montauk Point rose out of the thrashing Atlantic surf like the jagged teeth of an ancient leviathan.
High atop the bluff, the historic white stone lighthouse stood dark, its beacon extinguished, illuminated only by intermittent flashes of silver lightning that split the stormy sky.
Our tactical vessel slipped into the sheltered cove beneath the bluffs, cutting its engines seventy yards from the dilapidated wooden service pier.
The rain battered our tactical helmets as Dante and I climbed down the boarding ladder into a rigid inflatable zodiac boat, accompanied by four silent operators.
Silvio’s amphibious team had already vanished into the frothing surf, swimming toward the submerged sea cave entrance with silent, military precision.
Our zodiac touched the slick wooden pilings of the pier. Dante vaulted onto the decking, extending his hand to pull me up into the howling wind.
In his left hand, Dante carried the heavy leather satchel containing the Palermo ledgers.
In my pocket, my fingers gripped the mother-of-pearl rosary, while my other hand rested firmly on the grip of the Glock concealed beneath my dark trench coat.
We climbed the steep, winding stone staircase cut directly into the granite face of the cliff.
At the top of the stairs, framed by the blinding halogen floodlights of the boathouse apron, stood Julian Delacroix.
He wore a heavy fur-lined tactical parka over his cashmere suit, flanked by six heavily armed mercenaries holding assault rifles at the low-ready position.
Beside him stood Giselle.
She had changed into a black tactical jumpsuit, her hair tied back in a severe ponytail, holding a military-grade radio transmitter with a glowing red LED detonator button in her gloved right hand.
When the floodlights hit Dante and me, Giselle’s lips parted into a triumphant, venomous sneer.
“Look who decided to crawl out of the sea!” Giselle shouted over the roar of the crashing surf. “The great Dante Caruso, reduced to running errands for a scullery maid!”
Dante didn’t flinch. He walked forward until he stood twenty paces away, his broad frame completely shielding me from their rifle barrels.
“Where is Lily, Julian?” Dante’s voice boomed across the apron, steady and cold as granite.
Julian Delacroix stepped forward, an arrogant, mocking smile playing across his weathered, silver-haired face.
“First, the ledgers, Dante,” Julian replied smoothly. “Toss the satchel onto the concrete. Once my technician verifies the medical examiner’s report and the Zurich bank receipts, my daughter will release the girl.”
“You think I was born yesterday, Julian?” Dante countered, his obsidian eyes narrowing. “You release the girl to Clara on this pier. Then, and only then, do you receive the satchel.”
Giselle let out a shrill, hysterical laugh, lifting the red detonator high into the air.
“You don’t dictate terms here, Dante! I have five pounds of C4 strapped to the medical oxygen manifolds in the generator bunker! One press of this button, and Clara’s precious little sister will be vaporized into red mist before your eyes!”
From the shadows of the generator bunker behind them, a weak, muffled sob echoed through the wind.
“Clara... Clara, please!”
My heart shattered into a million pieces.
It was Lily’s voice.
“Lily!” I cried out, stepping out from behind Dante’s shoulder, my hands trembling as I saw my younger sister through the cracked bunker door, bound to a steel chair, pale and shivering in a hospital gown.
Giselle smiled, savishing my agony. “Drop to your knees, Clara. Beg me for her life. Beg me like you should have begged when you brought that disgusting nursemaid to my head table!”
Before I could move, a tiny red laser dot appeared on the center of Giselle’s forehead.
A second red dot snapped onto Julian Delacroix’s chest.
High above us, on the iron catwalk of the lighthouse lantern room, Silvio’s sniper team had reached their positions.
Julian saw the laser reflection on his daughter’s skin.
His face went entirely, horrifyingly pale.
“SNIPERS! TAKE COVER!” Julian roared.
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All hell broke loose on Montauk Point.
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