Chapter 4 - Shadows in the Crosshairs
The rain had turned into an icy sleet by three in the morning.
In the sub-level bunker beneath the Beacon Hill residence, Nolan stood before a stainless-steel armory table. Gone was the bespoke tuxedo. He wore black tactical denim, a heavy Kevlar vest beneath a water-resistant combat jacket, and a customized Kimber .45 holstered tightly against his ribs.
Dominic walked down the reinforced concrete stairs, carrying a satellite tracker.
“We found Martin Keene,” Dominic reported grimly.
Nolan racked the slide of his pistol with a crisp, lethal snap. “Alive?”
“Barely. Marcus didn't kill him because Keene is the only one who holds the secondary encryption key to unlock the offshore accounts in Zurich. They’ve got him stashed in the old pump house out by the Neponset River rail yard. Marcus has four hired guns from out of town guarding him. Russian contractors. Professional, heavy hardware.”
Evelyn appeared at the top of the stairs, leaning slightly against the steel railing. She had changed into a dark cashmere sweater, dark trousers, and flat boots, her thoracic brace hidden beneath the fabric.
Nolan’s eyes softened momentarily, but his stance remained rigid. “You’re supposed to be in bed, Evelyn.”
“I’m coming with you to the command post,” she said.
“No.” Nolan’s tone left no room for debate. “You have broken ribs. You stay here under maximum security. Dominic is leaving six men with shotguns on the perimeter. The blast doors are sealed.”
“Listen to me!” Evelyn said, descending three steps, ignoring the sharp pull along her right flank. “Marcus knows you have a military mindset, Nolan. He expects you to hit that pump house like a sledgehammer. He wants you to go there! What if the rail yard is a diversion to pull you away from the harbor before The North Star docks?”
Nolan stopped. He looked at Dominic, then back to Evelyn.
“The ship isn't scheduled to dock until six a.m.,” Nolan said.
“Check the harbor radar,” Evelyn urged, pulling up the live port satellite feed on her tablet. “Look at the tidal flow. The storm pushed the high tide forward by forty minutes. The North Star didn’t wait in the outer bay. She’s already entering the channel under pilot escort. If Marcus plants the inspection tip with Homeland Security now, the raid happens while you’re five miles away fighting Russians in a swamp!”
Nolan cursed softly under his breath. The brilliance of the trap was terrifying. If Nolan went to save his old friend Martin, he lost the docks and his freedom. If he went to the docks to intercept the ship, Martin Keene’s throat would be cut, and the only man who could testify to Marcus’s financial treason would die.
“We split our strength,” Dominic said cautiously. “I take a crew to the rail yard, you take the harbor.”
“No,” Evelyn intervened. “Marcus knows Dominic’s tactical style. He knows how Nolan operates. He doesn’t know mine.”
Nolan was across the room in two strides, his towering presence casting a shadow over her. “You are not setting foot near a combat zone, Evelyn. End of discussion.”
“I’m not talking about shooting people, Nolan!” she fired back, stepping directly into his personal space, refusing to back down. “I am the Chief Financial Officer on paper. I have the legal authority to order an emergency maritime diversion through the Boston Harbor Traffic Control center. I can reroute The North Star to the offshore quarantine buoy under maritime safety protocol Rule 14—suspected hull structural failure.”
Nolan stared down at her. “And what does that buy us?”
“It buys us ninety minutes,” Evelyn said, her eyes flashing with a fierce, brilliant light. “Federal agents can’t board a ship in quarantine without the Captain of the Port’s direct physical signature. That gives you ninety minutes to raid the rail yard, pull Martin Keene out alive, extract the bank codes, and bring him to the docks to burn Marcus alive.”
Nolan stared at his wife. For six years, he had tried to keep her in a bubble of luxury, terrified that the filth of his world would stain her innocence. He had treated her like rare porcelain that needed guarding behind vault doors.
He had been blind.
She wasn't porcelain. She was cold-rolled steel wrapped in silk.
Nolan reached up, cupping the side of her neck with a scarred, calloused hand. His thumb traced her cheekbone with infinite reverence.
“If anything happens to you,” Nolan whispered, his voice trembling with an emotion that terrified him far more than any enemy ever could, “I will burn this entire city to ash, Evelyn. I swear it to God.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me,” she promised, resting her palm over his heart. “Because you’re coming back to me. Now go get Martin.”
May you like
Nolan pulled her close, kissing her with a fierce, desperate hunger that took her breath away—a promise sealed in the dark. Then, turning on his heel, he barked a single order to Dominic.
“Mobilize Team Red. We’re taking the rail yard.”
