Chapter 6 - Retaliation at Dock 42
The rain began to fall heavy and relentless over the Port of Boston. Cold Atlantic water lashed against the rusty metal shipping containers stacked four stories high along the edge of Dock 42.
Inside the main logistics warehouse, Knox—a tall, scarred man with cold gray eyes and an expensive leather trench coat—stood over Michael’s elderly dock master, Arthur. Knox held a heavy silver fountain pen in one hand and a set of transfer documents in the other.
"Sign the manifest, old man," Knox said, his voice flat and devoid of warmth. "Michael Carter is ashes under a pile of rubble in Wellesley. His empire belongs to Vane Holdings now. You sign these papers, or you take a swim in the harbor with fifty pounds of concrete tied to your boots."
Arthur, his lip bleeding and his hand trembling, spat blood onto Knox's leather shoe. "Michael Carter treated us like men, not animals. You and Vane are dead men walking."
Knox sighed, raising a silenced pistol toward Arthur's forehead. "Loyalty is an expensive trait, old man. Unfortunate you can't afford it."
CRASH!
Before Knox could pull the trigger, a high-speed steel cargo container swung violently through the air on an overhead crane, smashing directly into the warehouse's glass office walls. Debris, shattered glass, and twisted metal rained down on Knox’s men, throwing the entire warehouse into chaos.
"What the hell was that?!" Knox screamed, ducking behind a stack of wooden crates as automatic gunfire suddenly echoed through the vast space.
From the high rafters above, Michael Carter descended on a tactical cable, landing smoothly on the concrete floor. In his hands was a heavy tactical shotgun. Without missing a beat, he fired twice, knocking two of Knox's guards off their feet before they could even raise their rifles.
From the opposite side of the warehouse, Evelyn and Marcus pushed through the side entrances, cutting off the mercenaries' escape routes. Evelyn moved with lethal speed, utilizing the shipping crates for cover, dropping Vane’s men with precise, single shots every time they exposed themselves.
Knox scrambled backward, his arrogance completely shattered as he recognized the man he thought was dead. "Carter?! You were in the mansion! It was blown to hell!"
"You should have verified the body, Knox," Michael said, his voice echoing over the sound of rain beating against the metal roof. He stepped forward, racking another shell into the shotgun.
Knox panicked, reaching into his pocket for a remote detonator. "I have charges set on the chemical tanks outside! You come any closer, and I’ll blow this entire dock sky high!"
Before Knox could press the button on the detonator, Evelyn stepped out from behind a nearby container twenty yards away. She raised her pistol, breathing out slowly as she aligned her sight with Knox's right hand.
BANG.
The bullet struck the detonator directly in Knox's hand, destroying the device and shattering two of his fingers in a spray of sparks and blood. Knox howled in agony, collapsing to his knees as he clutched his ruined hand.
Michael walked up to Knox, kicking his dropped firearm far out of reach. He grabbed Knox by the collar of his expensive trench coat, hauling him to his feet and slamming him hard against the steel side of a shipping container.
"Where is Victor Vane right now?" Michael demanded, his face inches from Knox's trembling, blood-soaked face.
"He's... he's at his penthouse!" Knox wheezed, gasping for air. "The Ritz-Carlton tower downtown! He's hosting a private victory celebration tonight with the politicians and federal directors on his payroll! They think the city is theirs!"
Evelyn walked up, her gun lowered, her eyes cold as she looked at the man who had ordered the shipment that poisoned Michael's son. "Does Vane have the master backups for the Vanguard clinical trials at the penthouse?"
"Yes! In his private office vault!" Knox sobbed, completely broken. "Everything is on a secure server network there! Please... don't kill me!"
Michael looked at Marcus. "Tie him up. Hand him and every living mercenary here over to the state police with an anonymous tip containing the illegal chemical manifests from this warehouse. Let the federal authorities find them here surrounded by contraband."
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"And what about Vane?" Evelyn asked, looking toward the downtown Boston skyline visible through the warehouse windows.
Michael adjusted his jacket, his dark eyes reflecting the city lights. "Victor Vane invited the most corrupt political figures in Massachusetts to a party tonight. It would be rude of us not to crash it."
