Chapter 9 - Midnight at Terminal 4
The rain hammered against the corrugated steel roof of Chicago's Terminal 4 warehouse, casting long, eerie shadows across the sprawling shipping crates.
Marcus Salvator’s men loaded heavy duffel bags into the back of an unmarked van, their guns drawn, whispering nervously in the dark. They thought they were operating in total secrecy.
They were wrong.
Without a single sound, Morty’s elite security unit dropped from the overhead girders, surrounding the perimeter in seconds. Before Salvator’s men could even raise their weapons, floodlights snapped on, blinding them in a brilliant wall of white light.
"Drop your weapons!" Marcus barked, his shotgun leveled at the lead smuggler.
In less than three minutes, the operation was over. Not a single shot was fired. The three million dollars in bearer bonds were secured, and Salvator’s operation was completely neutralized without a drop of blood spilled.
Back at the estate, Julian sat in his private study, pouring two glasses of aged scotch. He handed one to Sarah as she walked in, her tablet tucked under her arm.
"Terminal 4 is secured," Julian said, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of respect and awe. "Salvator is currently fleeing to Canada with nothing but the clothes on his back."
May you like
Sarah took the glass, sipping it slowly. "Good. Then my children can sleep in peace tonight."
Julian stepped closer, the space between them suddenly feeling very small. "Sarah... when you walked into Bellisimo two weeks ago, I thought you were just a desperate mother looking for a lifeline. I didn't realize you were the anchor I’ve been missing my entire life."
