Chapter 14 - THE FINAL SHOWDOWN AT THE DOCKS
The South Chicago docks were shrouded in thick, freezing fog that rolled in off Lake Michigan.
Rusted shipping containers loomed like monoliths under flickering amber sodium lights.
Dante’s convoy of three armored SUVs pulled up silently behind a row of empty steel crates three hundred yards away from Warehouse 44.
“Stay behind me,” Dante ordered, signaling his tactical team to move out in formation.
“I’ve got your six,” I whispered, stepping out into the biting wind with the pistol gripped firmly in my right hand.
We moved through the labyrinth of stacked containers like shadows.
Ahead of us, Warehouse 44’s corrugated metal doors were propped half-open, casting a harsh yellow beam of light across the wet pavement.
Inside, muffled voices echoed over the sound of crashing waves.
“Moretti should have been here by now,” a gruff voice shouted inside. “If he doesn't show in ten minutes, burn the old lady’s cottage to the ground.”
My blood ran cold.
They had already dispatched a secondary team to Lake Geneva.
I didn't wait for Dante’s signal.
I sprinted around the corner of the container, raised my pistol, and kicked open the side metal door of the warehouse.
“Drop your weapons!” I screamed.
Three armed men spun around in utter shock inside the cavernous, grease-stained warehouse.
In the center of the room, tied to a wooden chair, was an empty decoy dummy dressed in my mother’s winter coat.
*It was a trap.*
“Well, well, well,” a smooth, gravelly voice echoed from the metal catwalk above.
Viktor Vance stepped out into the light, leaning casually against the railing, holding a lit cigar.
“The little maid came to play hero,” Viktor sneered.
Before Viktor could raise his assault rifle, the skylight above him shattered into a million pieces.
Dante dropped silently from the catwalk cables, landing directly behind Viktor with the cold efficiency of an executioner.
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Before Viktor could turn, Dante’s pistol barrel pressed firmly against the back of his skull.
“Drop the gun, Viktor,” Dante whispered, his voice echoing through the entire warehouse. “Or your next breath will be your last.”
