Chapter 7 - The Federal Warrant
The warehouse air seemed to drop twenty degrees.
Daniel stared at the radio in his hand, his knuckles turning white against the black plastic casing. Federal marshals. Not rival syndicate enforcers, not rogue hit squads, but the full, crushing weight of the federal government moving with terrifying, pre-planned synchronization.
"How?" Daniel murmured, half to himself, half to the silent room. "They shouldn't have jurisdiction over private syndicate holdings without a state-level RICO indictment first. Unless..."
"Unless the warrant wasn't filed today," Salvatore said slowly, his scarred face grim as he leaned across the table. "Unless Vance didn't just steal from our pension fund, Daniel. He was cutting deals with the Justice Department for years. He was an informant, feeding them controlled pieces of our portfolio in exchange for immunity."
Daniel’s blood turned to ice. It all clicked into place—the sudden federal crackdowns on three of their most profitable shipping lanes last quarter, the strange leaks that only the inner circle should have known, and now, the precise timing of the raid on his home. Vance hadn't just been a thief; he had been the architect of a federal trap designed to take down Daniel Carter by targeting his only known vulnerability.
His son.
"Ethan," Daniel snapped, turning around sharply.
The boy was already unplugging the laptop, his expression pale but intensely focused. "I know, Dad. If they have a federal warrant for me, they know I pulled the financial manifests from your safe. They think I'm an accomplice to corporate espionage and data theft."
"You're not staying here," Daniel said, moving swiftly toward the side exit where a private service elevator led down to the subterranean loading docks and his armored transport. "Salvatore, secure the back exits. If any federal vehicles try to tail our transport, you and your boys light them up."
"Consider it done, Boss," Salvatore growled, standing up and drawing his own weapon.
"Lily, stay close to Ethan," Daniel ordered, grabbing a submachine gun from the armory locker by the wall.
"I'm not leaving my journal or the microfilm," Lily said fiercely, clutching her battered leather case against her chest. "If the feds take this building, they'll scrub every piece of evidence linking Vance to my father's murder."
"Then bring it," Daniel said. "Move!"
They hit the subterranean garage just as the reinforced ceiling above them groaned under the heavy vibration of multiple heavy vehicles parking overhead. The dust sifted down from the rafters like gray snow. Daniel shoved Ethan and Lily into the back of a bulletproof matte-black Suburban idling in the shadows, slamming the heavy armored door shut.
Marcus was already in the driver's seat, his hands steady on the steering wheel, his engine purring with a deep, muffled roar.
"Boss, the upper ramp is blocked," Marcus warned, his eyes locked on the overhead security monitors displaying the garage exit. "Two federal tactical vans just parked right across the slipway. They've got thermal optics and breach gear. We're boxed in."
Daniel looked at the monitor. The red lights of federal vehicles flashed rhythmically against the concrete pillars outside. There was no way up through the main exit without walking straight into a firing squad of heavily armored federal agents.
"Then we don't go up," Daniel said calmly, pulling a heavy brass key from his pocket and tossing it to Marcus. "Take the drainage tunnel beneath the old dry dock. It leads out to the bay."
"That tunnel hasn't been cleared in ten years, Boss. It's half-flooded and barely wide enough for a sedan," Marcus said, raising an eyebrow.
"Do you want to explain tax fraud to a federal judge, or do you want to drive?" Daniel barked.
Marcus didn't hesitate. He slammed the gearshift into drive, tires squealing against the slick concrete as the Suburban fishtailed toward the dark, yawning mouth of the abandoned drainage tunnel at the far corner of the subterranean level.
May you like
As they plunged into the pitch-black subterranean tube, the sound of federal battering rams smashing through the warehouse's upper steel doors echoed like distant thunder behind them.
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