Chapter 3 - The Dock at Gary
The rain over Lake Michigan was relentless, turning the industrial shoreline of Gary, Indiana, into a landscape of dark iron, slick concrete, and toxic fog.
It was 2:00 AM.
Three dark SUV caravans sat parked inside the rusted shell of an abandoned steel fabrication warehouse fifty yards from the water. The air smelled of sulfur, damp salt, and cold diesel exhaust.
I sat in the back of the lead Cadillac Escalade, wearing a black tactical coat over my Kevlar vest. Beside me sat Leo, monitoring a thermal drone feed that hovered four hundred feet above the surrounding docks.
In the passenger seat sat Grace. Her hands were no longer tied, but Vic sat directly behind her with a silenced pistol rested casually on the back of her headrest.
"He's late," Grace whispered, her eyes glued to the dark alleyway between two rows of shipping containers. "He was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago."
"He's not late," I said calmly, looking at my silver wrist watch. "Dominic is paranoid. He's had two lookouts sitting on the crane tower since we arrived. He wanted to see if I brought an army."
"Did you?" Grace asked, turning her head slightly.
I looked out the heavily tinted window. "I didn't bring an army, Grace. I brought my inner circle. An army makes noise. An army gets children killed."
On Leo’s laptop screen, three heat signatures suddenly appeared near the southern perimeter gate. A silver Mercedes Sprinter van, accompanied by two black sedans with blacked-out windows, rolled slowly into the warehouse complex without using their headlights.
My breath hitched in my throat. My fingers tightened around the custom Colt .45 resting on my knee.
Was she in that van?
"Boss," Leo whispered, zooming the thermal camera in on the Sprinter van. "I count five guys in the lead sedan, four in the rear sedan. The van has two men in the front... and two heat signatures in the back cargo area. One adult... and one small frame."
A small frame.
A shockwave of emotion tore through my chest, but I forced it down with absolute iron discipline. If I lost my edge now, if I let the father replace the strategist for even ten seconds, we would all end up at the bottom of the lake.
"Grace," I said, my voice smooth as ice. "Step out of the car. Walk to the center of the warehouse light. Hold the satellite phone in your left hand, just like he instructed."
Grace’s lower lip trembled, but she nodded. She pulled her coat around her shoulders, pushed the heavy SUV door open, and stepped out into the freezing downpour.
The headlights of the Mercedes Sprinter suddenly flashed to life, blindingly bright, casting Grace’s long, shivering shadow across the puddle-strewn floor of the warehouse.
The driver’s side door of the lead sedan opened.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out into the rain. He wore a long leather coat, and even from fifty yards away, the white, jagged scar running from his left temple down to his jawline gleamed under the harsh sodium lights of the warehouse rafters.
Dominic Vance had returned from the dead.
"Grace!" Vance’s voice boomed over the sound of the rain, rich, gravelly, and filled with arrogant amusement. "I must admit, I was surprised when you called the secondary line. You sounded almost... desperate."
Grace stood her ground in the center of the light, though her legs looked ready to give way. "I did what you asked, Dominic! I put the tracker in his office! Now give me my daughter's clearance paperwork and let us leave the country!"
Vance chuckled, a low, wet sound that ended in a dark cough. He took two steps forward, resting his right hand inside his coat pocket.
"You were always a terrible liar, Grace," Vance said smoothly.
Before Grace could react, Vance pulled a heavy chrome revolver from his coat and fired twice.
The gunshots shattered the quiet of the warehouse like thunderbolts.
May you like
Grace gasped, taking a staggering step backward as the bullets struck the concrete inches from her boots. She screamed, dropping to her knees, burying her head in her arms.
"Did you really think I wouldn't check the perimeter, Julian?!" Vance screamed into the dark rafters, his scarred face twisting into a hideous mask of fury. "I know you're here! Step out of the shadows, you arrogant bastard, or I’ll tell the man in the van to put a bullet through your daughter’s head right now!"
