Chapter 3 - The Ambush at Port 4
Midnight at the Port of Chicago was a world of steel, fog, and shadows. Heavy cranes stood against the dark skyline like skeletal giants, and the distant horn of a freighter echoed across Lake Michigan.
I stood inside the darkened observation tower of Terminal 4, binoculars pressed to my eyes. Beside me, Michael adjusted the earpiece connecting him to twenty-five of my best-armed enforcers positioned silently throughout the shipping yard.
Below us, two black cargo trucks pulled slowly past the outer security gates. The gates were open, just as Victoria’s stolen passcodes had promised.
A sleek black sedan followed the trucks, bringing Anthony Moretti’s eldest son, Dominic Moretti, to oversee the operation personally.
"They brought fifteen men, Boss," Michael whispered, tapping his tablet screen. "All armed with automatic weapons. They think they own this dock tonight."
"Let them unload the first two containers," I said calmly. "Wait until Dominic is out of the vehicle and standing on the tarmac."
Below us, the trucks backed up to the main warehouse doors. Dominic Moretti stepped out of the sedan, wearing a long leather coat, casually lighting a cigar as his men began unlatching the heavy steel containers. Inside were millions of dollars worth of unregistered firearms and illicit narcotics intended to fund the Moretti family's expansion across the Midwest.
Dominic took a drag from his cigar and looked up toward the darkened observation tower, letting out a arrogant laugh. "Easiest score of the year," he called out to his driver. "Daniel Vance is probably somewhere getting drunk while his empire falls apart."
I picked up a tactical radio from the console. "Close the gates."
Across the yard, the massive steel perimeter gates slammed shut with a deafening, metallic roar. Hydraulic locks engaged, sealing the shipping yard completely.
Dominic froze, dropping his cigar into a puddle on the pavement. "What the hell?"
Floodlights mounted around the perimeter burst into blinding life, illuminating the entire tarmac in stark, brilliant white.
"Dominic Moretti!" my voice boomed through the dockyard’s public address system, echoing off the shipping containers. "You’re trespassing on Vance property."
Dominic’s men instantly drew their weapons, looking around in blind panic as my security force emerged from behind the steel shipping crates, weapons raised and locked on target.
"Vance!" Dominic screamed into the light, his voice cracking with shock. "You were supposed to be out of the picture! Victoria said—"
"Victoria is currently in federal custody," I said, stepping onto the outdoor metal catwalk of the observation tower, looking down at him. "And your shipment is now property of Vance Logistics."
"Shoot him!" Dominic roared, pulling a pistol from his coat.
Before his men could raise their rifles, my tactical team opened fire with non-lethal flashbangs and precision suppressive fire. The yard descended into pure chaos. Smoke grenades filled the air with thick white fog, blinding Moretti’s men as my team swept in with ruthless efficiency.
Within six minutes, every single one of Dominic’s guards was disarmed and forced onto their knees on the wet asphalt.
I walked down the metal stairs, stepping onto the tarmac as Michael handed me a heavy steel crowbar. I walked over to the first cargo container, drove the crowbar into the latch, and popped the heavy door open.
Inside were hundreds of wooden crates filled with contraband.
I turned to Dominic, who was pinned to the ground by two of my men, staring up at me with sheer hatred.
"Tell your father that the Vance family is under new management," I told Dominic softly. "Tell him I am seizing this entire shipment as payment for the fourteen million dollars his firm attempted to steal from my accounts. If I see a single Moretti associate north of Madison Street ever again, I won't call the police. I’ll come for your father personally."
I gestured to Michael. "Put him in his car and throw him off my property."
As my men dragged Dominic away, Michael walked up beside me, holding an encrypted satellite phone.
"Boss," Michael said quietly. "While you were handling the docks, my private investigator finally found a lead on Claire."
My heart instantly hammered against my ribs, the victory at the docks vanishing from my mind in an instant.
"Where is she?" I demanded.
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"She’s not in Illinois," Michael revealed. "Three weeks ago, she purchased a quiet, secluded cottage near Door County, Wisconsin. She’s living under her maiden name."
I looked out at the dark waters of Lake Michigan. "Prepare my car. I’m driving to Wisconsin tonight."
