Chapter 8 - The Crucible at Pier 88
The rain rained down like needles as the heavy black SUV pulled onto the vast, deserted tarmac of Pier 88.
The commercial cruise terminal towered like a sleeping iron leviathan against the black water of the Hudson River. High overhead, fog rolled over the rooftop, swallowing the tops of the structural cranes.
Luca stepped out of the vehicle, holding a black leather briefcase in his left hand.
He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for Olivia. She took his offered hand, stepping out into the freezing wind, her silver pendant resting cold against her chest beneath her heavy coat.
"Remember," Luca whispered as they walked side by side toward the terminal’s glass entrance doors, "keep your eyes on me. No matter what you hear, no matter who speaks to you, do not look away from my face."
"I won't," Olivia promised, her voice steady.
They pushed through the heavy glass doors into the vast, cavernous main hall of Pier 88.
The space was dark, illuminated only by a few yellow construction floodlights placed on the concrete floor. Towering steel catwalks crisscrossed sixty feet above them, lost in the shadows of the high ceiling.
Standing in the center of the hall, illuminated by the harsh yellow light, was Viktor Cross.
Cross was a tall, lean man in his late fifties, dressed in a sharp charcoal trench coat, his silver hair neatly slicked back. In his hand, he held an encrypted tablet connected to a portable biometric scanner resting on a folding table beside him.
Flanking him were eight heavily armed mercenaries in gray tactical uniforms, their assault rifles held at low ready.
"Ah, Mr. Moretti!" Cross’s voice boomed across the echoing hall, rich with arrogance. "Punctual as always. And you brought the lovely Miss Carter."
Luca stopped twenty feet away, his body casually positioning itself to cover Olivia’s right side. "Where are the hostages, Cross?"
Cross smiled smoothly, tapping his tablet. "They are quite comfortable upstairs in the VIP lounge, under the watchful care of three of my best men. Once Miss Carter steps up to this scanner and verifies the Account 99 decryption sequence, my men will step aside and allow your aunt to take them home."
"Show them to me first," Luca demanded, his voice echoing off the iron girders above.
Cross sighed, waving a hand toward the high mezzanine gallery overlooking the hall.
A spotlight flickered to life on the gallery.
Standing behind a glass railing were Daniel and an older woman with silver hair—Aunt Helen. Both were bound at the wrists, guarded by two tactical operatives with drawn pistols.
"Olivia!" Daniel screamed from the balcony, his face wet with tears. "Olivia, do what he says! Please!"
Olivia’s stomach squeezed, but she remembered Luca’s command: Do not look away from my face. She pulled her eyes away from the balcony and locked her gaze back onto Luca's cold, steady profile.
"Satisfied, Moretti?" Cross asked, stepping behind the biometric scanner. "Now, Miss Carter. If you would be so kind as to step forward and place your right hand on the plate."
Olivia looked at Luca.
Luca gave her a subtle, almost imperceptible nod.
Olivia took three slow steps forward, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She reached the folding table, standing directly across from Cross.
"Good girl," Cross purred, adjusting the scanner settings. "Place your palm flat."
Olivia raised her hand. Her fingers hovered an inch above the glass plate.
"Now, Marco," Luca whispered into his collar mic.
BOOM!
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A massive, ear-splitting explosion shattered the silence from the lower basement of the pier!
The primary electrical junction exploded in a shower of blue sparks! Instantly, every floodlight in the terminal went pitch black, plunging the vast hall into total, suffocating darkness!
