Chapter 4 - The Shipyard at Midnight
Terminal 3 at the Norfolk Naval Shipyard was a graveyard of rusted steel cranes, abandoned shipping containers, and giant decommissioned hull sections towering against the night sky. The tide roared against the concrete pylons, spraying cold salt water over the deck.
A single spotlight shone down from the cab of a towering gantry crane, illuminating a black Mercedes sedan parked in the center of the concrete staging area.
Standing beside the car were four armed private security guards wearing dark tactical gear bearing the crest of Apex Global. In front of them sat Eli Mercer, his hands cuffed behind his back, his face bruised and swollen, a bloody cut running across his left cheekbone.
Behind the sedan stood Rear Admiral George Mercer, wearing his crisp dress blues, his golden stars gleaming under the spotlight.
My wheelchair rolled into the circle of light.
Beside me walked Captain Thomas Vance, wearing his dress uniform, his posture straight as a rod. Behind us, hidden in the pitch-black shadows of the surrounding shipping containers, stood thirty-two Marines from the 3rd Battalion, their weapons locked, loaded, and aimed at every target on the platform.
"You came alone," Admiral Mercer said, stepping forward, his hands resting casually in his pockets. "Smart girl."
"I brought what you asked for, Admiral," I said, pulling the three black hard drives and the brass key from my coat pocket and laying them across my lap. "Now let Eli go."
Eli raised his head, his swollen eyes widening as he recognized me in the spotlight. "Sarah... no!" he croaked out, his raspy voice trembling with desperation. "Don't give it to him! He's going to kill us both anyway!"
"Quiet, boy!" Admiral Mercer snapped, throwing a cold glance at his son. "You've been a disappointment since the day you enlisted as a low-level medic instead of attending the Naval Academy."
"He's ten times the man you'll ever be, Mercer," I said, my voice echoing across the concrete pier. "He pulled six Marines out of a burning burning vehicle while taking machine-gun fire. You hid behind a desk in Washington while taking blood money from contractors."
Mercer sighed, pulling an silver cigarette case from his pocket and lighting one with a golden lighter. "Ideals don't build defense empires, Petty Officer Miller. Power does. Now give my man the drives."
One of the Apex security guards stepped forward, holding his hand out toward my wheelchair.
"Before I give you anything, Admiral," I said, "I have one question. Who pulled the trigger on David six years ago?"
Mercer exhaled a thin stream of grey smoke into the cold night air. "David was smart. Too smart. He found the shell companies in San Diego. Senior Chief Hayes took care of it on the range in Coronado. Made it look like a faulty chamber detonation. Tragic, really. But necessary."
"Thank you," I said softly.
Mercer frowned. "For what?"
"For the confession," I said, pulling a tiny silver wireless transmitter from beneath my coat lapel and holding it up in the light. "Every word you just said was broadcast directly to the Federal Grand Jury sitting at the District Court building downtown, as well as the Naval Criminal Investigative Service internal affairs division."
Mercer’s face went pale. "You bitch—"
"RAISE 'EM!" Captain Vance roared into the darkness.
CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK!
From thirty different points on the surrounding shipping containers, high-powered tactical floodlights cut through the dark, blinding Mercer and his guards. Thirty Marines stepped out from the shadows in full combat gear, their rifles leveled at the Apex guards.
"APEX SECURITY! DROP YOUR WEAPONS OR YOU WILL BE ENGAGED IMMEDIATELY!" Sergeant Cruz’s voice boomed through a megaphone.
The four guards hesitated for two seconds before dropping their weapons to the concrete and raising their hands above their heads.
Mercer backed away toward the Mercedes, his eyes wild with rage, pulling a snub-nosed revolver from his inner jacket pocket. He aimed the weapon directly at my chest.
"I will not go to prison!" Mercer screamed.
PA-THWACK!
A single non-lethal beanbag round fired from a Marine sniper on the crane cab struck Mercer directly in the shoulder, knocking him off his feet. The revolver clattered across the wet concrete, sliding right to the footpad of my wheelchair.
I leaned down, picked up the gun, and popped the cylinder open, letting the live cartridges spill into the sea below.
Eli dropped to his knees as Sergeant Cruz cut his handcuffs with heavy wire shears.
Eli stumbled forward, falling onto his knees in front of my wheelchair, his breath coming in ragged, painful sobs as he buried his face in my lap.
"I'm sorry, Sarah..." Eli wept, his shoulders shaking against my knees. "I'm so sorry... I couldn't save David... and I couldn't save your leg..."
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I wrapped my arms around his head, pulling him tight against my chest, feeling the wet rain and tears soaking into my jacket.
"You saved my life, Eli," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion as I held him under the bright white floodlights. "You brought me home."
