Chapter 6 - The Shadows of Pier 42
The rain turned into a torrential downpour as our four-vehicle convoy crossed the bridge toward New Jersey.
Port Newark was a maze of thousands of multi-colored steel shipping containers stacked three stories high under towering floodlights. The wind coming off the bay blew the scent of saltwater, diesel fuel, and rust across the dark asphalt.
I sat in the back of the SUV, checking the magazine of my assault rifle. Beside me, Tony was adjusting his bulletproof vest, his face grim.
"We don't have jurisdiction here, Boss," Tony noted quietly. "Harlan’s got half the port security on his payroll. If we go in loud, it’s going to be a war."
"It’s already a war," I replied, snapping the magazine into place. "Harlan crossed the line the moment he put a hands on a child in Queens. We hit Container Yard B, secure the shipment, and eliminate anyone holding a weapon."
"And Harlan?"
"Harlan is mine," I said.
We killed the headlights two hundred yards from Yard B. My men—sixteen heavily armed lieutenants who had bled with me for a decade—silently dismounted from the vehicles, moving through the narrow lanes between the steel containers like ghosts.
Bruno moved ahead of us, his dark coat blending seamlessly into the night. He was trained to point out sentries without making a sound.
Fifty yards ahead, Bruno stopped near the corner of a red container. He raised his front left paw, his body freezing like iron.
I crept up beside him and peeked around the corner.
In the center of the yard stood a massive white refrigerated trailer attached to a black semi-truck. Four guards carrying automatic carbines were pacing around the perimeter, smoking cigarettes under a makeshift tarp. Sitting on a folding chair near the cab of the truck was Victor Harlan himself.
Harlan was a large, heavy-set man in a tailored leather coat, holding a tablet screen, checking off numbers as two of his men loaded wooden crates into the back of the truck.
"That’s him," Tony whispered at my shoulder. "What’s the play?"
"Sal, take two men to the high crane on the left," I instructed softly. "Cover the exit routes. Tony, you take the right flank. On my shot, clear the perimeter guards."
My men nodded, splitting off into the darkness without a sound.
I crouched behind the steel container, holding Bruno by his heavy tactical harness. I could feel the animal's muscles quivering beneath his skin, his heart pounding with controlled, lethal energy.
"Good boy," I whispered into his ear, my thumb brushing over his scarred neck. "Wait for the command."
Across the yard, Harlan looked at his watch and yelled to his men. "Hurry it up! The freighter departs in forty minutes! If these containers aren't loaded on the deck, I’ll throw both of you into the harbor!"
One of the guards opened the side door of the refrigerated trailer to check the lock.
From inside the dark container, a tiny, terrified sob echoed out into the rain.
May you like
That was all it took.
I stepped out from behind the steel wall, raised my rifle, and pulled the trigger.
