Chapter 7 - The Mastermind's Trap
Midnight at Pier 42 in Brooklyn was shrouded in a heavy Atlantic fog. The massive rusty hull of the cargo vessel The Iron Sovereign loomed over the black water like a sleeping monster. Crates painted with industrial markings were being loaded onto the deck by heavy cranes, surrounded by dozens of armed guards wearing rain slickers.
I stood atop a container stack three hundred yards away, peering through the thermal scope of a suppressed sniper rifle.
The wind was howling off the harbor, driving cold rain against my face. My side was bandaged tightly where Marco’s bullet had grazed me, every movement sending a sharp bolt of pain through my abdomen. But I felt nothing except a cold, terrifying focus.
In the crosshairs of my scope, standing on the covered gangway of the ship, was Victor Moretti.
His face was severely burned on one side from the chemical exposure at my estate, covered in thick medical gauze, but he was alive. Standing beside him, dressed in an expensive cashmere coat, carrying a steel briefcase, was none other than Vincent Rizzo.
My grip on the rifle tightened.
Vincent hadn't just survived; he had orchestrated his entire escape plan with Victor from the very beginning. They were taking the two hundred million dollars from the joint accounts, the illegal arms shipment, and escaping international jurisdiction forever.
[RADIO COMMUNICATOR PINGS]
A soft crackle sounded in my earpiece. It was Vance, operating from a mobile comms rig three miles away.
"Dominic, I’ve established a secure satellite link to the port authority grid," Vance’s voice whispered in my ear. "The cargo ship is registered to a Panamanian shell company owned by Vincent. They’re casting off lines in ten minutes."
"Did Hannah and the child make it to the open sea?" I asked, my scope never drifting from Victor Moretti’s head.
"Yes. Clara navigated the boat through the coast guard checkpoint. They are forty miles offshore, heading toward the private airfield in Delaware. They are safe, Boss."
"Good," I murmured. "Then I am free to tear this pier to pieces."
"Boss, wait!" Vance warned urgently. "I’m reading heavy police and federal chatter on the emergency bands! Someone tipped off the FBI Homeland Security Task Force. They have three tactical teams surrounding the perimeter of Pier 42 right now!"
I hesitated, my finger hovering over the trigger. "Who tipped them off?"
"The tip came from an encrypted terminal registered to... Julian Caruso," Vance said, his voice filled with total disbelief. "Julian set an automated trigger eighteen months ago. If his biometric file was accessed, the FBI would receive a complete file detailing Victor Moretti and Vincent Rizzo’s location at Pier 42 tonight!"
A cold realization washed over me.
Julian hadn't just built a fortress for his child; he had laid a master trap for his killers. He knew Victor and Vincent would eventually try to move their stolen funds via Pier 42. He had used his own death to set a countdown timer that would bring the entire weight of the United States government down on their heads.
Suddenly, loud sirens blared through the fog. Red and blue emergency lights flashed across the perimeter gates of the dockyard. Federal tactical vehicles crashed through the chain-link fences, spotlights cutting through the pitch darkness.
"FBI! DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND GET ON THE GROUND!" loudspeakers boomed across the harbor.
Panic erupted on the dock. Moretti’s mercenaries immediately opened fire on the arriving federal agents, transforming the quiet shipping yard into an all-out warzone. Tracers lit up the night sky, and heavy machine-gun fire echoed off the metal container stacks.
On the gangway, Victor Moretti panicked. He grabbed Vincent by the collar, screaming over the sound of gunfire, and began rushing up the gangway toward the interior of the cargo ship.
"Not tonight, Victor," I growled.
I shifted my rifle, lined up the crosshairs on the heavy crane holding a ten-ton steel shipping container directly above the gangway, and pulled the trigger three times.
PING! PING! PING!
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The armor-piercing rounds shattered the hydraulic lock holding the crane’s steel cable.
With a deafening screech of snapping metal, the ten-ton container plummeted from the sky, crushing the gangway in a shower of sparks and iron, severing Victor and Vincent’s only escape route to the ship.
