Chapter 59 - The Trap at Slip 4
The rain began to fall just as our black armored SUV rolled through the industrial security gates of the North Harbor Terminal at 11:45 PM.
The rain slicked the wet asphalt of Slip 4, turning the sprawling concrete yard into a dark, mirrored expanse reflecting the pale orange glare of high-intensity halogen floodlights. Gantry cranes loomed overhead like skeletal titans against the stormy night sky, their massive cables dripping with moisture.
Beside me in the backseat, Frank—now the head of my internal security detail—checked the magazine of his suppressed submachine gun with a quiet, practiced click.
“Perimeter is secure, Boss,” Frank muttered over the hum of the engine. “Three vans from the Odessa cell are currently positioned at warehouse bay twelve. They’re offloading something heavy from a flatbed truck right now. Doesn't look like copper wiring.”
I turned to Harper, who sat in the passenger seat beside the driver, her laptop open on her knees, her face illuminated by the pale screen light.
“Harper, kill their local network feed,” I instructed. “I want their radios jammed before we step out of the vehicle.”
“Done,” she replied swiftly, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. “Their encrypted comms just flatlined. They’re blind and deaf on all local frequencies.”
“Good,” I said, drawing my Sig Sauer from its shoulder holster and checking the slide. “Frank, Tommy, you take the rear exit of warehouse twelve. Make sure nobody slips out toward the water. I’ll take the main bay doors.”
“Boss,” Harper turned around, her dark eyes locking onto mine with fierce urgency. “I’m coming with you.”
“No,” I said instantly. “You stay in the vehicle with the driver. It’s too dangerous.”
“I didn't decode their entire logistics network to sit in the backseat like a spectator, Vincent,” she shot back, her voice carrying an edge of absolute steel that brooked no argument. “I know the warehouse layout better than anyone on this team. If they’re using a secondary digital override to fake the customs manifests, I’m the only one who can disable it before they wipe the servers.”
I stared at her for a long, silent second. The woman who had once trembled while pouring Bordeaux at table twelve was gone; in her place stood a partner who had walked through fire by my side and refused to blink.
“Stay behind my left shoulder,” I conceded grimly. “If I tell you to drop, you hit the concrete.”
May you like
She nodded, unzipping her dark tactical jacket to reveal a compact Glock 19 tucked neatly into her waistband.
The heavy armored doors of the SUV slid open, and the cold, damp night air rushed in, carrying the heavy scent of diesel fuel, saltwater, and impending violence.
