Chapter 12 - The Iron Docks
The delivery truck gave one final metallic groan and died completely, coasting to a stop against the rusted perimeter fence of Pier 42. The docks were a graveyard of shipping containers, colossal cranes towering like skeletal dinosaurs against the rainy night sky. The black water of the harbor churned violently against the pilings twenty feet below.
""Out! Move into the containers!"" Marcus ordered, kicking his door open.
Clara jumped down, wrapping Lily tightly in her arms. The child was silent now, frozen in that hyper-alert state children enter when instinct overtakes fear. Clara ran barefoot across the slick, oil-stained concrete, her feet numb to the cold and sharp debris.
Behind them, car doors slammed. Footsteps splashed through puddles.
""Clara! Marcus! You have nowhere left to run!"" Julian’s voice echoed through the maze of metal containers. He was closer than before, his voice hoarse and ragged with manic fury. ""The coast guard has this entire sector cordoned off! You walk out into the open, and you're dead!""
Marcus led Clara into a narrow corridor between two towering stacks of rusted blue shipping crates. He leaned against the metal, breathing heavily, clutching his cracked ribs. His face was gray in the ambient harbor light.
""Marcus, you're bleeding through your shirt,"" Clara whispered, horror lacing her voice.
""I'll buy you time,"" Marcus gasped, pulling two spare magazines from his pocket and checking his sidearm. ""At the end of this pier, there's a pilot boat docked at Berth 9. The captain is an old friend from the academy. He has orders to take you across the bay to the federal marshals in New Jersey.""
""I'm not leaving you here,"" Clara said, tears mixing with the rain on her cheeks. ""They will kill you.""
""They won't kill me,"" Marcus smiled faintly, though his eyes were grim. ""They need me alive to sign over the Internal Affairs dismissal. But you... Julian won't let you survive this night. Give me the drive, Clara. I’ll hold them here. You get Lily to the boat.""
Clara looked into Marcus's eyes. For a split second, she considered handing the tiny piece of plastic over. But as she reached into her bag, she caught the faint, rhythmic beep of a radio transmitter from Marcus’s own collar.
It was an encrypted local frequency—the same private security channel Eleanor’s men had been using at the wedding.
May you like
Clara froze. Her hand stopped inside her purse.
""Marcus..."" Clara whispered, stepping back half a pace, clutching Lily against her heart. ""Why do you have Eleanor's private frequency on your radio?""
