Chapter 6 - Night at Pier 54
Marcus Carter was a wounded animal, and a wounded animal with millions of dollars in untraceable cash was a dangerous thing.
Stripped of his political protection and facing imminent federal indictments, Marcus went entirely rogue.
Instead of fleeing the country, his obsession took over. He pulled twenty heavily armed mercenaries from an international private security firm—men who answered only to cash—and set a trap at Adrian’s secondary shipping facility at Pier 54.
It was two o'clock in the morning. Rain lashed the industrial docks of Elliott Bay as a dark van pulled into the shadows of Warehouse 9.
Inside the warehouse, Adrian stood near a row of heavy shipping containers, surrounded by Vane and four of his top security men. They were preparing to secure a critical witness—Marcus’s former chief accountant—who was being smuggled out of the country to testify.
Suddenly, the warehouse floodlights flickered and died, plunging the vast space into darkness.
The heavy steel roll-up doors slammed shut with a deafening crash.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Automatic gunfire ripped through the corrugated metal walls, shattering glass and showering the floor with sparks.
"Ambush!" Vane screamed, drawing his sidearm and diving behind a forklift. "Take cover!"
From the shadows of the upper catwalks, Marcus’s mercenaries opened fire, pinning Adrian’s men behind heavy wooden crates.
Adrian crouched behind a steel container, drawing his custom SIG Sauer, returning fire with lethal, rhythmic precision. A mercenary tumbled from the upper railing, crashing into the dark water below.
Out in the alleyway, tucked inside the bulletproof Maybach, Lena listened to the deafening roar of gunfire echoing from the warehouse.
Adrian had ordered her to stay in the car with the driver, but as she saw three more armed mercenaries moving stealthily toward the warehouse’s side entrance carrying breaching charges, she knew Adrian’s men were surrounded.
"They're flanking them," Lena said to the driver.
"Mrs. Carter, Mr. Voss ordered us to stay here," the driver insisted, holding his firearm nervously.
"If Adrian dies in there, Marcus comes for me next," Lena said, her eyes flashing with sudden, cold resolve. "Give me your spare sidearm."
"Ma'am, no—"
"Give it to me!" she commanded with an authority that stunned the driver into obedience.
He handed her a compact 9mm pistol.
Lena racked the slide—a movement she had practiced secretly over the last three days under Vane’s instruction—and stepped out into the freezing rain.
She moved silently along the wet brick wall of the warehouse, staying in the deep shadows.
The three mercenaries were placing a magnetic explosive charge against the side door, preparing to blow it open and flank Adrian from behind.
Lena took a deep breath, steadying her trembling hands against the frame of a parked utility truck. She raised the pistol, aiming at the heavy industrial overhead light fixture dangling directly above the three men.
SQUEEZED THE TRIGGER.
BANG!
The heavy metal light fixture snapped from its chain, crashing down onto the three mercenaries like a falling anvil. Two were knocked unconscious instantly; the third stumbled backward, dazed.
The distraction gave Adrian inside the warehouse the exact second he needed.
He burst through the side door, kicking the weapon from the dazed mercenary's hand, and pulled Lena behind the cover of an armored tractor-trailer.
"What are you doing out here?!" Adrian barked, though his eyes burned with fierce pride as he swept his gaze over her.
"Saving your life," Lena replied smoothly, handing him a fresh magazine from her pocket. "Marcus is inside, isn't he?"
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"He’s on the upper office deck," Adrian said, slapping the magazine into his weapon. "He’s desperate, Lena."
"Then let's finish this together," she said.
