Chapter 3 - The Cold River
Rain lashed the black glass of the SUV as the convoy sped toward the industrial harbor. Viktor sat in the rear, racking the slide of his custom semi-automatic pistol, the oiled mechanism clicking smoothly in the enclosed space. The memory of Elena bleeding across his mother’s knees looped endlessly behind his retinas. For three years, Elena had managed the estate’s domestic affairs, always silent, always observant. He had thought her merely loyal; he had never realized she loved him enough to take bullets meant to tear his life apart.
The black vehicles cut their headlights a quarter-mile from Warehouse 14 on the southern docks. The river was a churning black ribbon beneath the autumn drizzle, smelling of brine, sulfur, and rotting wood.
Marcus stepped out first, followed by six shooters moving in tactical formation. Viktor walked down the center of the gravel path, completely exposed, heedless of the freezing rain soaking through his expensive ivory suit jacket. He walked with the heavy, unhurried gait of an inevitability.
Inside the warehouse, the engine of an idling yacht hummed over the sound of rain drumming against corrugated steel. Three men were loading reinforced Pelican cases into the boat's stern. Among them stood Alexei, dressed in a black trench coat, barking orders while continuously checking his wrist.
Viktor stepped through the pedestrian door. ""Leaving without saying goodbye, brother?""
Alexei spun around, dropping a clipboard. The two loaders reached for holstered weapons, but Marcus’s rifle cracked twice from the catwalk above. Both men collapsed instantly onto the wet concrete, dark pools spreading beneath them.
Alexei froze, his hands raised chest-high, breath pluming in the damp air. ""Viktor! Wait—listen to me! It’s not what it looks like!""
""The garage door opened from your terminal,"" Viktor said, pacing forward until the barrel of his pistol rested against Alexei’s forehead. ""Elena has five bullets in her torso. My mother has shrapnel in her shoulder. What does it look like, Alexei?""
Alexei began to tremble, his eyes darting frantically toward the open river. ""I had no choice! The Syndicate Council in Berlin... they told me if I didn't open the gates, they'd expose the offshore trusts! They were going to strip everything we built!""
""You sold my mother’s life for bank accounts?"" Viktor’s finger tightened on the trigger.
May you like
""No!"" Alexei cried out, dropping to his knees on the cold concrete. ""It wasn't just Berlin! Someone inside your inner circle paid them to hit you tonight! Someone who wants your chair!""
Viktor’s eyes narrowed. Before he could squeeze the trigger, the yacht’s engine behind them roared to life on autopilot, and a red laser dot appeared dead center on Viktor’s chest.
