Chapter 4 - The Strike at Pier 14
Midnight at the North Harbor arrived with a thick, suffocating sea fog that swallowed the harbor lights. Pier 14 was a desolate stretch of rusted steel cranes, stacked shipping containers, and slick wooden docks that smelled heavily of saltwater and diesel fuel.
Moored against the concrete embankment was the Iron Trident, a massive, dark freighter. Its deck cranes were actively humming, lowering massive steel crates into a line of idling black flatbed trucks.
Surrounding the trucks were two dozen heavily armed men wearing tactical gear, their rifles held at the ready. Standing near the center of the docks, wearing an expensive cashmere coat over a dark suit, was Julian Thorne. He was smoking a cigar, checking a gold watch on his wrist with an impatient scowl.
"Where the hell is Paul?" Thorne growled to his chief lieutenant, a hulking man named Kozlov. "He was supposed to confirm Hayes’s death two hours ago!"
"The estate went dark, Boss," Kozlov replied, adjusting his submachine gun. "None of our internal taps are answering. Maybe the poison took time to work."
"It doesn't matter," Thorne spat, exhaling a cloud of blue smoke into the fog. "Once this shipment of heavy ordinance is loaded, we roll straight into Hayes’s territory. Without Victor leading them, his lieutenants will fight each other for power. The city will be ours by morning."
Suddenly, the roaring engine of a heavy crane above them cut out with a sputtering stall.
The lights along the pier flickered once, twice, and then plunged into pitch blackness.
"What the hell?" Thorne snapped, dropping his cigar. "Kozlov! Get the generators back on!"
Before Kozlov could turn around, a blinding white spotlight flickered to life from the top of a stacked shipping container thirty yards away. The beam pierced through the fog, pinning Thorne and his men in its brilliant glow.
From the darkness beyond the light, a voice echoed out over the hidden loudspeakers—cool, commanding, and instantly recognizable.
"You're looking for Paul, Julian?"
Thorne’s blood ran cold. "Hayes?"
Victor stepped into the perimeter of the light. He wore a long dark overcoat over his suit, his left arm held comfortably at his side, while his right hand rested casually on the grip of a heavy shotgun. Behind him, emerging silently from between the shipping containers like specters in the fog, were forty heavily armed loyal operatives led by Marcus.
"You're supposed to be dead!" Thorne screamed, panic breaking through his suave facade. "Paul promised me you were finished!"
"Paul made a lot of promises he couldn't keep," Victor said smoothly, taking three slow steps forward. "Including promising you my city."
"Kill them!" Thorne bellowed, diving behind a steel container. "Kill them all!"
Muzzle flashes ripped through the foggy night as gunfire erupted across Pier 14.
The sound was deafening—the sharp chatter of automatic rifles echoing off the metal hulls of the shipping freighters. But Victor’s men had the high ground and the element of absolute surprise. Marcus’s snipers, positioned high on the crane gantries, picked off Thorne’s armed guards before they could organize a defensive line.
Victor moved with lethal, practiced precision. Despite his injured shoulder, he fired his shotgun with devastating accuracy, driving Thorne’s remaining enforcers back toward the edge of the pier.
Kozlov attempted to raise his rifle toward Victor, but Marcus stepped out from behind a crate, firing three rapid shots that dropped the giant lieutenant onto the wet wooden planks.
Within seven frantic minutes, the gunfire died down into a heavy, smoke-filled silence.
Thorne’s men were either disarmed on their knees or fleeing into the dark harbor waters.
Victor walked slowly through the drifting gunsmoke, stopping at the edge of the pier where Julian Thorne was crawling desperately toward an idling speedboat tied to the dock.
Victor set his boot down heavily on Thorne’s hand, pinning it to the wet wood.
Thorne shrieked in pain, rolling onto his back, looking up at Victor with wild, terrified eyes. "Victor! Wait! We can make a deal! I’ll give you the weapons! I’ll pay you fifty million! Just let me take the boat!"
Victor looked down at the man who had tried to poison him, who had corrupted his household, and who had terrorized an innocent woman for months.
"You tried to take my life, Julian," Victor said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And you tried to destroy an innocent girl to do it."
"Who? The maid?" Thorne gasped, disbelieving. "You're doing this over a useless maid?!"
Victor’s eyes burned with cold fury. "She has more honor in her small finger than you have in your entire bloodline."
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Victor lowered the barrel of his shotgun directly toward Thorne’s chest.
"Marcus," Victor called out without looking away. "Call the District Attorney. Tell him Julian Thorne’s entire smuggling ring has been intercepted at Pier 14. And tell him to bring extra handcuffs."
