Chapter 9 - The Salt Fog
A thick, pea-soup fog rolled over Pier 14 as morning broke, smelling of saltwater, diesel fuel, and rotting timber. Titan Star, a three-hundred-foot rusted container ship, loomed against the pilings like an iron beast. Armed guards wearing identical tactical jackets to the transfer team paced the gangways. Leo moved beneath the pier deck, stepping along slimy wooden crossbeams just inches above the lapping tide. His knuckles were raw, every muscle burning with exhaustion. Up on the main deck, crane engines roared into life, lifting heavy steel containers into the cargo hold. High on the bridge wing stood Donald Mercer, holding a satellite phone to his ear, laughing casually while lighting a cigar. Leo timed the sweep of the dock searchlights, climbed a mooring line with agonizing patience, and slipped through a bilge drainage hatch into the lower engine spaces. He was completely unarmed, carrying nothing but twenty years of mechanical knowledge, a rusted crowbar, and the drive that could bring an empire down.
