Chapter 5 - THE NAVY YARD CONFRONTATION
The Brooklyn Navy Yard was a labyrinth of rusting shipping containers and abandoned warehouses. The rain had turned into a torrential downpour, reducing visibility to mere yards.
Richard’s SUV slid to a halt near Pier 3. The red dot on his screen was stationary now, located inside a derelict warehouse at the edge of the pier.
The countdown on his phone read: 08:12.
Richard reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a heavy silver revolver—a gift from his father that he had hoped he would never have to use. He checked the cylinder, slipped it into his coat pocket, and stepped out into the storm.
The warehouse was dark, the only light coming from the occasional flash of lightning through the shattered skylights. The air smelled of salt water, rust, and diesel.
In the center of the vast space sat the unmarked white ambulance. Its engine was idling, the exhaust pipe sending white plumes of steam into the cold air.
Richard crept forward, his gun drawn.
"Arthur!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the corrugated steel walls. "It's over! I know you're here!"
Suddenly, the headlights of the ambulance flashed on, blinding him. Richard blocked his eyes with his arm, taking a step back.
From behind the vehicle, a figure stepped into the light. It wasn't Arthur.
It was Julian Montgomery. He was holding a high-caliber pistol, his face twisted in a desperate, manic grin.
"You should have signed the papers, Richard!" Julian screamed over the sound of the rain drumming on the roof. "You had to be the hero! You had to bring the ghost of Daniel Parker back into our lives!"
"Where is Arthur, Julian?" Richard demanded, keeping his gun leveled at his partner. "He’s using you! He's going to discard you the moment he has my shares!"
"Arthur is already on a private jet to Zurich!" Julian laughed, a wild, unstable sound. "He left me to clean up your mess. But that’s fine. Once you’re dead, and the widow is gone, I’ll inherit your shares anyway. It’ll look like a tragic murder-suicide. The grieving billionaire and his former partner's widow!"
"And Emma?" Richard’s voice was dangerously low. "A seven-year-old girl? You’re going to murder her too?"
Julian hesitated for a fraction of a second, his grip on the gun trembling. "She... she shouldn't have come to the office. She brought this on herself!"
"She's a child, Julian!" Richard roared. "Look at yourself! We built a financial empire, and you've reduced yourself to a common street thug kidnapping sick women and children!"
03:45... 03:44... the countdown on Richard's phone, which was propped in his pocket, buzzed silently against his thigh.
"I don't have a choice!" Julian cried out. "If she does that audit, we go to prison for life, Richard! Everything we worked for, gone!"
"Then we go to prison," Richard said, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. "But we don't kill a mother. We don't ruin a little girl's life."
"Stay back!" Julian screamed, raising his gun to aim directly at Richard's chest. "I’ll shoot! I swear to God, Richard, I’ll shoot!"
A shot echoed through the warehouse.
But it didn't come from Julian’s gun, and it didn't come from Richard’s.
A side door of the warehouse blew open, and a swarm of tactical police officers poured in, led by Marcus.
Julian spun in panic, firing wildly into the dark. A return shot struck Julian in the shoulder, sending him crashing to the concrete floor, his gun clattering away.
Richard didn't wait for the police to secure the scene. He ran to the back of the ambulance, throwing the double doors open.
Inside, Sarah Parker lay on the gurney, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow. The portable ventilator was humming, but the digital display on the control unit was flashing red.
00:15... 00:14...
The machine was locked with a digital passcode. Arthur had programmed it to shut off the oxygen flow when the timer hit zero.
"Marcus!" Richard yelled. "Get the medic! The machine is locked!"
"Sir, the police medics are still clearing the perimeter!" Marcus shouted back.
Richard looked at the screen. 00:08... 00:07...
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He didn't know the code. He had no way of hacking a medical grade encryption in five seconds.
With a roar of pure desperation, Richard grabbed the heavy silver revolver from his pocket, aimed it at the auxiliary oxygen tank's manual override valve next to the digital unit, and pulled the trigger.
