Chapter 7 - The Descent to the Pier
The private elevator was dead, its control panel dark and unresponsive after Diana cut the main circuit from the basement hub.
I didn't hesitate. I sprinted toward the service stairwell, taking the concrete steps three at a time in a reckless, breakneck descent down fifty stories of winding shadows. By the time I burst through the heavy steel exit door into the underground parking garage, my lungs were burning and my heart was hammering a furious rhythm against my ribs.
My black Mercedes Maybach sat alone in its designated stall, its headlights dark, the air around it smelling faintly of burnt rubber and exhaust.
I yanked the driver's door open, slid behind the wheel, and punched the emergency override ignition button.
The V12 engine roared to life with a deep, resonant growl, flooding the dashboard with amber instrumentation lights. I threw the gear selector into reverse, tires screeching against the polished concrete as I whipped the heavy armored vehicle around and rocketed up the exit ramp into the freezing, rain-drenched Manhattan night.
The rain was coming down in sheets now, turning the asphalt of the West Side Highway into a black, reflective mirror. Traffic was sparse at this hour, allowing me to floor the accelerator, the Maybach eating up the miles toward the old industrial shipping berths down on the lower west side.
My phone, resting on the passenger seat, buzzed with an incoming text message.
I glanced down at the glowing screen while maintaining eighty miles per hour through a yellow light.
*Unknown Sender:* You're running out of time, Marcus. Pier 42, Warehouse B. Come alone or the boy bleeds first.
I didn't reply. I just pressed the gas pedal harder until the speedometer needle crept past ninety.
Within fifteen minutes, the towering skyline of midtown gave way to the decaying, salt-scented expanse of the abandoned Hudson River docks. The rusted skeleton of Pier 42 loomed out of the fog, its corrugated metal siding rattling violently in the gale-force winds coming off the water.
I cut the Maybach's headlights a block away, coasting the heavy vehicle into the deep shadows of a rusted gantry crane before killing the engine entirely.
May you like
The silence that followed was broken only by the rhythmic crashing of dark river water against the rotting wooden pilings beneath the pier.
I popped my holster, checked the chamber of my Sig Sauer, and stepped out into the freezing rain.
