Chapter 6 - The Iron Yard Trap
The iron yard in Queens was a fifteen-acre graveyard of rusted shipping containers, scrapped cranes, and towering piles of crushed automobiles.
Our SUV smashed through the open iron gates of Gate 4 at fifty miles an hour, skidding to a halt inside the narrow canyon formed by two thirty-foot stacks of rusted steel containers.
"Out! Move!" I barked, grabbing Clara’s arm and dragging her out into the freezing night.
The two Vane chase vehicles roared into the yard seconds later, their tires screeching as they skidded into a blocking formation at the gate, sealing us inside.
Eight men in tactical coats poured out of the cars, their assault rifles raised, sweeping the dark narrow lanes between the containers.
"Bennett Hale!" a voice shouted from the front line—Vane's chief enforcer, a scarred brute named Miller. "You're trapped, boy! Hand over the girl and the key, and we'll let you take your mother's body out of the mansion before we burn it down!"
I pulled Clara into the narrow three-foot gap between two steel containers, pressing her against the cold, corrugated wall.
"Stay here," I whispered to her. "Don't move. Don't make a sound."
"Bennett, please..." she whispered, her hands clutching my wrist.
"I spent my whole life thinking my father's empire was my legacy," I said, looking down at her, my voice low and dark. "Tonight I found out it was just a pile of blood and lies. But you're family, Clara. Real family. And nobody touches my family."
I stepped out of the narrow gap into the open lane, my Sig Sauer raised in both hands.
"MILLER!" I yelled into the dark.
Three shooters spun toward my voice.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
I fired four rapid shots, two rounds dropping the lead shooter instantly. The second man dove behind a stack of rusted steel pipes, returning fire with an automatic rifle that chewed up the gravel at my feet.
Suddenly, a loud, metallic THUNDER echoed from above!
A massive forty-foot shipping container—suspended from an industrial gantry crane thirty feet in the air—came swinging out of the dark, crashing directly down onto the second Vane chase car with a deafening, terrifying CRUNCH!
Metal crushed like soda cans. Glass exploded in every direction as thirty tons of steel crushed two Vane shooters beneath its massive weight!
Standing in the operator's cabin of the high crane, backlit by a spotlight, was Dominic. He spat out his cigarette, grabbed the crane’s secondary control lever, and swung a two-ton demolition ball straight into the side of the second car!
CLANG!
The car was thrown twenty feet across the yard, tumbling end over end before exploding into a brilliant tower of orange flames!
"CLEAR THE LANE!" Dominic’s voice boomed over the crane's loudspeaker.
The remaining two Vane shooters panicked, throwing down their weapons and running frantically toward the open gate. But my men, waiting in the shadows outside, cut them down before they reached the street.
Silence returned to the iron yard, broken only by the crackle of the burning vehicle and the soft patter of rain against the cold metal.
I stood in the center of the gravel lane, my gun slowly lowering to my side, smoke rising from the barrel into the freezing air.
Clara stepped slowly out from between the steel containers, her eyes wide as she looked at the wreckage around us.
I walked over to her, taking off my wet coat, wrapping it securely around her shivering shoulders.
"It's over," I said softly.
May you like
"No, it isn't," Clara whispered, looking toward the burning car. "Vincent Vane is still alive. And he knows about the key."
"Then we go home," I said, turning toward my SUV. "We get the key, we get the ledger, and we end this war once and for all."
