Chapter 7 - The Strike of the Cross
Before Victor Vance’s finger could tighten around the trigger of his silenced weapon, the massive industrial cargo crane directly above his sedan roared to life with a deafening, mechanical shriek. The massive four-ton steel loading container dropped from the sky like a falling meteor, smashing into the roof of the silver luxury car with a catastrophic, crunching boom that shook the entire wooden pier.
Victor screamed, lunging backward onto the slick planks as his vehicle was flattened into a two-foot-tall sheet of scrap metal.
From the shadows of the shipping containers, Dominic Cross stepped out into the amber light, a tactical submachine gun resting easily against his hip, his face an unreadable mask of absolute, lethal dominance. Behind him, Marco and twenty heavily armed Cross security operatives emerged from the fog, their weapons instantly trained on Victor and the three drivers who had lunged out of the flattened vehicle.
"The shipping lane is closed, Victor," Dominic said, his voice carrying across the dark water like the tolling of a funeral bell.
Victor scrambled backward on his hands and knees, his pristine camel-hair coat ruined by grease and salt water, his face twisted in a mask of pure, unadulterated panic. "Dominic! Wait! This is a misunderstanding! The girl... she’s a thief! She took family records—"
"The girl is under my personal protection, Victor," Dominic interrupted, stepping between Victor and Elena, completely shielding her with his massive body. "And the records she saved have already been uploaded to the federal logistics enforcement server. The Coast Guard is currently boarding your three medical transport vessels ten miles off the coast. The warrants for your arrest under the federal racketeering and medical sabotage acts were signed an hour ago."
Victor looked around at the wall of weapons, at the ruined car that represented his failed extraction, and finally at Elena, who was standing behind Dominic, her green eyes clear and entirely devoid of the fear he had expected to see.
"You..." Victor hissed at Elena. "A fat little pastry girl... you ruined a multi-million-dollar distribution network..."
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Elena took a step out from behind Dominic, looking down at the broken corporate predator on the floor. "The name is Elena Brooks, Mr. Vance. And you should have remembered that bakers know exactly how to handle things that try to rise too fast."
Marco stepped forward, securing Victor’s hands behind his back with heavy steel cuffs, dragging him away toward the waiting transport vans as the distant sirens of the federal authorities finally began to echo across the San Diego harbor district.
