Chapter 5 - The Road to Sag HarborThe black armored Mercedes glided through the rain-soaked night like a phantom, its headlights cutting through the heavy Long Island fog. Inside, the cabin was dead silent except for the rhythmic, soothing wipers clearing the windshield.
Adrian sat in the back seat, cleaning the amber liquid in his crystal tumbler with a slow, hypnotic swirl. Beside him, Claire sat curled into a tight ball, staring blankly out the window at the blurred neon signs of highway motels passing by. In the front passenger seat, Victor checked the magazine of a suppressed Glock, his fingers moving with mechanical precision born of decades of violence.
"We're ten minutes out from the lighthouse," Victor murmured, not turning around. "Local surveillance confirms the federal black sedan is parked behind the old Coast Guard barracks near the cliff trail."
Adrian took a slow sip of his Scotch. "And Thorne?"
"Thorne's town car was spotted entering his estate three miles north twenty minutes ago," Victor replied. "He's coordinating from his study. He thinks Vance is about to execute a clean hostile takeover of the Moreland assets by sunrise."
Adrian looked over at Claire. Her face was deathly pale in the dim dashboard lights. "You remember your lines?"
She swallowed hard, her voice trembling. "I tell him... I tell him I couldn't get the whole ledger, but I memorized the primary offshore routing numbers. I tell him you fell asleep from the champagne, and I snuck out."
"And if he asks about the little girl?" Adrian asked quietly.
"I say she was asleep in the nursery," Claire whispered. "I say nobody suspected a thing."
"Good." Adrian set his glass down in the console holder. "Because the moment you step out of this car, you are walking into the lions' den. One false move, one twitch of your eye, and Vance will put a bullet through your skull before Victor and I can cross the gravel. Do you understand?"
Tears spilled over Claire's lashes, hot and fast, but she nodded numbly. "I understand."
The Mercedes slowed down, its engine dropping into a silent, purring idle as it turned onto a narrow, unpaved coastal road flanked by gnarled oak trees and jagged cliffs. Through the windshield, rising against the stormy Atlantic horizon like a massive stone finger, stood the Sag Harbor lighthouse. Its beacon was dark, decommissioned years ago, leaving only the white crests of crashing waves to illuminate the jagged rocks below.
The black sedan was parked right where Victor had predicted, its engine ticking as it cooled in the damp night air.
Adrian pushed the car door open. The howling ocean wind immediately rushed into the cabin, carrying the sharp, salty scent of seaweed and impending violence.
"Stay in the car, Claire," Adrian ordered, stepping out into the mud.
She grabbed his sleeve, her eyes wide with panic. "Adrian... please. Be careful."
May you like
Adrian didn't look back. He pulled his heavy wool overcoat tight against the wind, motioning to Victor, who slipped out of the passenger side like a shadow melting into the fog.
Together, the two men advanced toward the dark, looming silhouette of the lighthouse, leaving Claire alone in the car with the roaring ocean and twenty years of ghosts waiting to be buried.
