Chapter 7 - The Harbor Ambush
Rain poured relentlessly over the industrial shipping docks of Port Haven. Rows of towering steel shipping containers created a labyrinth of shadows and freezing puddles. Down by Terminal 9, heavy diesel engines rumbled as an armada of armored black pickups surrounded the primary switching station.
Inside the station, Julian Sterling sat tied to an office chair, a bruised mess of tears and swollen skin. Gabriel Thorne stood over him, holding an iPad displaying an incomplete decryption progress bar stuck at 73%.
""The signal cut out when the mansion blew,"" Julian stammered, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. ""I told you! Dante’s system defaults to dead-man isolation! You can't bypass it without his physical master key!""
Thorne didn't look at him. He stared out the rain-streaked window at the dark water where his container ship idled. ""Dante Vance didn't die in that blast. A man like that only dies when you look him in the eye and put a bullet through his skull.""
Outside, two sentries patrolling between shipping crates suddenly went silent.
There was no gunshot, only the dull, heavy thud of bodies hitting wet asphalt. Thorne’s lieutenant, a scarred mercenary named Briggs, stepped to the door, peering into the gloom through night-vision optics.
""Perimeter breach,"" Briggs reported flatly. ""West corridor. Two men down.""
""He came alone,"" Thorne said, a predatory grin touching his burned face. ""Kill him. Bring me his severed hand for the biometric reader.""
Twelve armed mercenaries moved out into the rain, fanning out in tactical formation through the narrow alleyways between shipping containers. The storm masked their footsteps, but it also masked Dante’s.
From the shadows atop a red container, Dante dropped silently onto the rearmost mercenary, snapping his neck before the man could cry out. Dante snatched the operative's suppressed submachine gun and vanished back into the rain like a phantom.
Moments later, controlled bursts of gunfire tore through the fog. One by one, Thorne’s elite soldiers fell into the grease-slicked water. Dante moved with lethal, unhurried precision, using the darkness as his weapon. He knew these docks; he had owned them for thirty years.
Inside the terminal, Julian heard the systematic screams of dying men drawing closer. Panic overtook him. ""He's coming! Let me go, Thorne! Let me leave, and I won't say a word!""
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Thorne drew a heavy revolver and leveled it at Julian’s forehead without a second thought. ""You've outlived your usefulness, Julian.""
Before Thorne could pull the trigger, a tear gas canister crashed through the skylight, detonating in a blinding white cloud of smoke and burning chemical vapor.
