Chapter 12 - The Iron Lock
The sound of approaching Coast Guard sirens wailed across the sound, mixing with the low vibration of twin diesel engines cutting through the water just outside the warehouse walls. Blue and red emergency lights began to flash through the cracked industrial windows of Berth 7.
"Mark, we have to go!" Evelyn yelled from the running Subaru, throwing the passenger door open. "If the federal tactical teams clear this building and find four bodies, we aren't leaving this harbor for twenty years!"
"Not without her!" Sarah screamed, running past Evelyn and slamming her bare hands against the iron bars of the cage. "Lily! Mommy’s here! Baby, Mommy’s here!"
"Mommy!" Lily reached her small, trembling hands through the bars, gripping Sarah’s wrists. The steel cage hung from an industrial chain connected to an overhead hand winch, its heavy padlock refusing to budge.
Mark raised the captured submachine gun, pressed the muzzle directly against the shackle of the padlock, and turned his head away. "Sarah, cover her face!"
Sarah threw her body over the side of the cage, shielding Lily’s eyes. Mark squeezed the trigger. A single heavy round shattered the rusted tumbler into jagged brass fragments. Mark kicked the cage door open with the sole of his boot, reached inside, and hauled Lily into his arms.
The moment her small body hit his chest, Lily buried her face into his wet, freezing neck, wrapping her legs around his waist with an iron grip that belied her size. "Daddy! You came! You didn't leave!"
"I promised you, didn't I?" Mark choked out, his voice thick with tears he couldn't suppress any longer. He pressed his face into her hair, oblivious to the blood and grime covering his jacket. "I promised I'd stay."
"Mark!" Evelyn shouted, gunning the Subaru’s engine. "They're breaching the south bay doors!"
The heavy steel shutters of the southern loading bay groaned under the impact of a hydraulic ram. Shouts from tactical officers echoed outside: "Federal agents! Drop your weapons and hit the ground!"
"Out the back channel!" Mark barked, grabbing Sarah’s arm and dragging her toward the rear maintenance door facing the open dock slip.
"What about Mercer?" Sarah breathed, looking back at the bleeding man crawling across the concrete floor.
"He stays for the feds," Mark said coldly.
They burst through the emergency exit into the freezing downpour. The black water of the harbor churned violently against the seawall beneath a low wooden service dock. Tied to the cleat at the end of the slip was an idling aluminum harbor workboat—the vessel Mercer’s crew had prepared for their escape.
"Can you pilot that?" Evelyn asked, skidding to a halt on the wet planks.
"Get in," Mark commanded. He tossed Lily into Sarah’s arms in the boat's small cockpit and untied the thick mooring line. Evelyn leaped onto the deck just as flashlights illuminated the pier behind them.
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"Stop! Port Authority Police! Stay where you are!"
Mark slammed the dual throttle levers forward. The boat’s heavy outboard motors roared to life, churning the black tide into white foam as the vessel surged away from the pier, slicing through the waves and out into the stormy expanse of the sound just as the first searchlights swept the empty slip behind them.
