Chapter 3 - THE GHOST OF THE OLD PIERThe old municipal pier at the edge of the Brooklyn Navy Yard had been condemned back in the nineties. It was a rotting skeleton of rusted iron beams, splintered timber, and saltwater decay. Seagulls nested in the skeletal rafters overhead, and the dark, oily water of the river lapped sluggishly against the pilings.
It was the kind of place where bodies were dumped when you didn't want them ever to surface again.
I pulled the Maybach up to the rusted security gate, cutting the headlights and the engine simultaneously. The silence of the waterfront rushed in, broken only by the rhythmic squeaking of a loose metal sheet swinging in the offshore breeze.
"Stay," I whispered.
Bruno pushed his wet snout against my palm, offering a low, reassuring rumble from deep within his massive chest. He understood. He stayed put in the back seat, his eyes locked on the shadows ahead.
I stepped out into the biting night air, buttoning my coat against the damp wind rolling off the water. I kept my right hand tucked deep inside my pocket, resting comfortably around the checkered grip of my custom Smith & Wesson .45.
"I know you're here," I called out into the darkness. My voice echoed off the rusted corrugated metal of the abandoned warehouses. "You wanted a meeting. I'm here. Show your face."
For a long moment, nothing moved except the swirling fog creeping across the concrete.
Then, the heavy crunch of gravel sounded from behind a stack of shipping containers ten yards to my left.
A figure stepped out from the gloom. Tall, wearing a long trench coat with the collar popped high against the wind. Hands buried deep in the pockets.
As the figure stepped under the flickering amber glow of a broken overhead streetlamp, my breath caught in my throat.
It wasn't a rival boss. It wasn't a disgruntled capo, or a federal agent, or a hitman hired by the Russian syndicate.
May you like
It was a woman I hadn't seen in five years. A woman whose name was supposed to be carved into a marble headstone upstate.
"Hello, brother," Sarah said, a cold, humorless smile playing across her lips.
