Chapter 6 - Midnight at Pier 42Hook“He came with armed mercenaries and a mountain of cash. I came with a live television feed and a promise to burn his world to ash.”
The storm hit its peak as I pulled up to Pier 42 in Brooklyn. The abandoned shipping terminal was dark, rain slashing through the rusty steel beams of the overhead cranes.
I walked into the center of the warehouse alone, holding a metallic briefcase in my right hand.
Standing beneath the halogen spotlights were six armed guards in black tactical uniforms. Beside them stood my former COO, James, looking pale and nervous, and behind him, sitting calmly on an overturned shipping crate, was Julian Vance-Moreau.
To Julian's left was Lily. She was tied to a chair, a piece of tape over her mouth, her eyes wide with terror.
The moment she saw me, she began to struggle, crying muffled tears.
"Lily, stay calm," I said, keeping my voice steady as I stopped twenty paces away.
"You're a brave man, Robert," Julian said, standing up and dusting off his dark wool coat. "Or a extraordinarily stupid one. Walking in here without security?"
"I don't need security to deal with a coward who fights little girls," I replied.
James stepped forward, pointing a finger at me. "Just hand over the briefcase and the teddy bear drive, Rob! Do it, and Julian will let you walk out of here alive! You can keep your company!"
I looked at James with utter contempt. "You sold your soul for a promotion, James. How much did he promise you? Ten million? Twenty?"
"Shut up!" James screamed, his hand shaking.
"Enough," Julian interrupted coldly. "The drive, Robert. Put the briefcase on the floor and slide it over."
"First, let the child go," I demanded.
Julian chuckled, a low, sinister sound. "You don't dictate terms here. I own the police force, I own the courts, and after tonight, I own Mitchell Investments. You are a ghost, Robert. A nobody from the streets who got lucky."
"You're right about one thing, Julian," I said, taking a step forward. "I am a kid from the streets. And on the streets, we learn one rule very early: never trust a snake."
I opened the briefcase in my hand.
Inside was not the micro-drive. Inside was a high-powered, long-range cellular broadcast transmitter linked to a satellite dish mounted on the roof of my car outside.
"What is that?" Julian snapped, his eyes flashing with sudden panic.
"This is a live feed," I said, pointing to a small lens mounted on the rim of the briefcase. "Broadcasted directly to the Department of Justice, the FBI's Financial Crimes Division, and the front page of the New York Times web portal. Every word you've said for the last five minutes—every confession of extortion, kidnapping, and corporate fraud—has been recorded and streamed to twelve million people live."
Julian’s face went completely ash-white.
May you like
Before his guards could react, the screech of tires echoed outside the warehouse. Heavy steel doors were battered open as a fleet of unmarked black SUVs tore into the terminal, headlights blinding the mercenaries.
"FBI! Hands in the air! Don't move!"
