Chapter 4 - The Pursuit to Pier 14
The black heavy-duty SUV roared out of the Vale estate gates, its twin-turbo engine screaming against the howling wind and blinding rain.
I sat in the front passenger seat, watching the highway GPS screen glowing on the dashboard. Two more armored security vehicles followed closely behind, forming a silent, terrifying convoy tearing through the midnight storm along I-95 North.
Beside me, Marcus was tracking the cell signal of the delivery van's automated GPS transponder, which our intelligence team had intercepted through the delivery firm's central dispatch server.
"The van is twenty miles outside of Boston, Don Dominic," Marcus reported over the roar of the rain pounding against the windshield. "They're making good time despite the weather. They should reach the docks at Pier 14 in about fifteen minutes."
"Who is waiting for them at the pier?" I asked, keeping my eyes fixed on the dark road ahead.
"Three vehicles registered to Blackwood Capital," Marcus answered, scrolling through his tablet. "Including their senior managing director, a former Wall Street banker named Victor Sterling. Sterling has been trying to force a hostile takeover of our maritime logistics division for six months."
I smiled thinly—a cold, ruthless expression.
Victor Sterling was a man who thought millions of dollars in a hedge fund made him untouchable. He believed he was playing high-stakes corporate finance, unaware that he had stepped onto a battlefield where men like me didn't file lawsuits—we eliminated threats.
"Tell the rear vehicles to cut their lights when we approach the harbor district," I commanded. "We enter Pier 14 silently."
By 11:45 p.m., the heavy steel cranes and rusted shipping containers of Pier 14 loomed out of the thick ocean fog like giant, black skeletons against the harbor waters. The Atlantic Ocean was rough, dark waves crashing violently against the wooden pilings beneath the pier.
A lone gray panel van stood idling near an abandoned wooden warehouse at the edge of the dock.
Fifty yards away, two luxury black sedans were parked side by side, their headlights illuminating the swirling fog and falling rain.
A tall man in a long tan cashmere coat—Victor Sterling—stood beneath a large black umbrella held by an armed security guard, watching as the delivery driver, Julian, pulled a heavy steel tool case out of the back of the panel van.
"Is the B3 binder intact?" Sterling asked, his arrogant voice carrying over the sound of the wind.
"Everything is inside, Mr. Sterling," Julian answered, wiping rain from his face. "Uncut bearer shares, property deeds, and original partnership contracts signed by Dominic Vale himself."
Sterling chuckled, reaching out his gloved hand to take the handle of the steel case. "Dominic Vale thought he was a ghost that controlled this city. Tomorrow morning, when these shares are filed with the State Treasury, his entire syndicate belongs to Blackwood Capital."
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"I wouldn't celebrate your acquisition just yet, Victor."
My voice cut through the dark night like a frozen blade.
