Chapter 7 - The Docks of Terminal 4
The Hudson River waterfront at one o'clock in the morning was a desolate wasteland of towering metal shipping containers, rusted cranes, and freezing salt mist.
The rain had lessened to a heavy, biting drizzle that coated the concrete asphalt in a dark, reflective sheen.
A fleet of four black SUVs pulled up silently behind an array of stacked blue shipping containers at Terminal 4, their headlights turned off.
Vincent stepped out of the lead vehicle. He was wearing a heavy black wool overcoat over his suit. In his right hand, he held a sleek, silenced semi-automatic pistol.
I was sitting in the back seat of the second SUV, accompanied by Marco and two guards. Vincent had refused to leave me at the house, fearing that Julian might have left secondary accomplices behind to finish the job on Eleanor.
“Stay in the vehicle, Clara,” Marco instructed me softly, checking the action on his automatic rifle. “No matter what you hear, do not open the doors.”
“Marco,” I whispered, grabbing his sleeve. “Don't let him do something he can't undo.”
Marco looked at me with a somber, unreadable expression. “Miss Clara, in our business, some debts can only be settled one way. Julian crossed the line that keeps us human. He tried to kill his own grandmother.”
Marco slipped out of the vehicle, closing the heavy armored door behind him.
Through the tinted, rain-streaked window, I watched the confrontation unfold beneath the stark glare of a single overhead sodium floodlight.
Fifty yards away, a sleek silver Mercedes sedan was parked beside a open shipping container. Standing beside the car were four men in dark leather coats—the syndicates representatives from Montreal.
Standing opposite them was Julian Vale. He was thirty-two, thin, handsome, wearing a camel-hair coat, pacing nervously back and forth, holding a leather briefcase.
“Where is the signed transfer deed, Julian?” one of the Montreal men demanded in a harsh French-Canadian accent. “Our investors are losing patience.”
“My doctor is finalizing things at the estate right now!” Julian said, his voice high-pitched, laced with frantic energy. “Eleanor had another episode this afternoon! By tomorrow morning, the shares will be transferred to her estate, and as co-executor, I will sign the lease for Terminal 4!”
Suddenly, the black shadows surrounding the shipping containers shifted.
Vincent Vale stepped out into the floodlight.
Behind him, eight heavily armed Vale security men emerged from the darkness, their weapons raised, surrounding the silver Mercedes in a disciplined, lethal semicircle.
Julian froze. His face turned the color of chalk. The leather briefcase slipped from his numb fingers and hit the wet concrete with a dull thud.
“V-Vincent?” Julian stammered, backing away until his spine hit the side of the shipping container. “What... what are you doing here?”
Vincent walked forward slowly, his heavy coat flapping in the cold river wind. He didn't look at the four Canadian syndicate men. His eyes were locked entirely on his cousin.
“Dr. Hale gave a very detailed statement an hour ago, Julian,” Vincent said. His voice was smooth, carrying effortlessly over the sound of the churning river waves. “He mentioned the fentanyl. He mentioned Rocco. And he mentioned how eager you were for our grandmother to die.”
The four Montreal men exchanged rapid, nervous looks. Recognizing that they had walked into a fatal ambush, the lead Canadian slowly raised his hands above his head.
“This is a family matter, Vale,” the Canadian said quickly. “We have no business here. We are leaving.”
“Leave your weapons on the hood of the car and get out,” Vincent commanded without looking at them. “If I ever see any of you on this side of the Hudson River again, you won't make it back to Quebec.”
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The four men didn't argue. They dropped their sidearms onto the hood of the Mercedes, scrambled into their vehicle, spun the tires on the wet pavement, and sped away through the open gates into the darkness.
Julian was left entirely alone, cornered against the cold steel of the shipping container.
