Chapter 8 - The Showdown at the Docks
The driver’s side door of the wrecked Lincoln kicked open, and Viktor Vance stumbled out, coughing violently, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. In his left hand, he dragged Hunter by the collar of her catering shirt, pressing the cold barrel of a pistol against her temple.
"Stay back, Rossi!" Viktor screamed, his voice unhinged, spittle flying from his lips as he held Hunter as a human shield against the cold tunnel wall. "One more step and I blow her brains all over this tile!"
I stepped out of the Maybach, holding my 9mm low by my thigh. The tunnel around us was dead silent, save for the hiss of radiator steam and the dripping of icy water from the ceiling.
"Let her go, Viktor," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "You served me for twelve years. You know how this ends."
"I sold out to a winner!" Viktor laughed hysterically. "Bellamy offered me ten million dollars and a safe haven in Zurich to look the other way while his team slipped poison into your nursery! You were weak, Lorenzo! You let grief cloud your empire!"
I took a slow, measured step forward. "Grief didn't make me weak, Viktor. It made me patient."
"Stop right there!" Viktor shrieked, pressing the gun harder against Hunter’s temple. She winced, tears welling in her eyes, but she didn't scream. She looked past Viktor’s shoulder, right at me, and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod of her head.
She was setting him up.
I caught her signal instantly.
"You're right, Viktor," I said, deliberately lowering my weapon slightly, playing into his delusion of victory. "I lost my wife. I almost lost my son. I trusted the wrong men."
Viktor grinned, his grip on Hunter’s collar fractionally loosening as he soaked in his perceived triumph. "That's right, boss. Put the gun down on the—"
In a flash of blinding speed, Hunter didn't wait.
She slammed her heel backward with all her remaining strength, driving the heavy heel of her shoe straight into Viktor’s shin.
Viktor shrieked in agony, his balance buckling.
That microsecond of distraction was all I needed. I raised my 9mm and fired.
Crack.
The bullet struck Viktor’s pistol hand, shattering his wrist. His gun clattered onto the concrete floor with a metallic ring. Before he could scream again, I closed the distance, grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him against the tiled tunnel wall with enough force to crack the ceramic.
"It's over, Viktor," I whispered, pressing the cold barrel of my gun under his chin.
Sirens wailed in the distance—Dante’s tactical team and local police converging from both ends of the tunnel.
Viktor slid down the wall, whimpering in pain, utterly defeated.
I turned immediately to Hunter. She was shaking, her blouse torn at the shoulder, but she was standing on her own two feet.
"Are you alright?" I asked, my voice softening as I reached out to steady her arm.
"I'm fine," she breathed, wiping a streak of soot off her cheek. "Did you... did you get the micro-transmitter data?"
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I tapped my encrypted phone, which was currently syncing directly with the bug she had planted on Bellamy’s laptop. "Dante downloaded the entire ledger from the uplink. Every shell company, every payoff to Viktor, every financial record linking Richard Bellamy to the Manhattan car bombing that killed my wife."
Hunter looked up at me, a fierce, triumphant smile breaking through her exhaustion. "Then Richard Bellamy’s empire is finished."
