Chapter 6 - The Lair in the North End
The North End of Detroit was a landscape of abandoned industrial skeletons and crumbling brick warehouses.
Julian’s SUV moved like a silent shadow through the empty streets, its headlights off, relying on Arthur's night-vision thermal imaging. The monitor on Arthur’s wrist was beeping steadily now, the signal from the tracking dye growing stronger with every block they cleared.
"It’s the old Detroit Steam plant," Arthur whispered, pointing to a massive, three-story brick structure with a towering smokestack that blocked the winter stars. "The signal is originating from the second floor. Thermal imaging shows three targets. One small, two large."
Julian felt his heart stop. One small.
"Arthur, you take the rear entrance," Julian ordered, checking his sidearm. "I’m going through the service gantry. Keep your comms silent."
Julian slipped out of the car, his movements fluid and silent. He climbed the rusted iron fire escape of the steam plant, his boots making no sound against the ice. He reached a broken window on the second floor and slipped inside, the cold air smelling of rust, coal dust, and old grease.
Below him, in a cleared space beneath a massive steam turbine, sat Clara. She was tied to a wooden chair, her small face streaked with tears, but she was not crying out. She was clutching her stuffed bear, her eyes wide with terror as two men in tactical gear paced the floor in front of her.
"The boss said twenty minutes," one of the men said, checking his watch. "If Cross isn't at the packaging plant by then, we dump her and get on the boat to Canada."
"He'll be there," the second man said, his voice familiar to Julian. "Julian would burn the city down for this kid. He’s weak. He’s been soft ever since Vivienne died."
Julian’s eyes narrowed. He recognized the voice.
It was Richard Vance, the brother of his business partner, Victor. Richard had been the head of security for Cross Global’s shipping docks. He was the one who had access to the biometric codes of the St. Clair estate.
The betrayal was complete.
Julian didn't wait. He dropped from the gantry, landing on the second man with the force of a falling oak. The man’s head hit the concrete floor with a sickening crack, and he went instantly limp.
The first kidnapper spun around, his hand moving toward his holster, but Julian was already there. He grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting it until the bone splintered, and threw him against the rusted turbine housing.
Arthur Pendelton appeared from the shadows, his weapon drawn, securing the perimeter.
Julian ran to Clara. He sliced the ropes with his pocket knife, pulling his daughter into his arms. Clara let out a loud, shuddering sob, burying her face in his neck.
"Daddy," she cried. "I knew you’d find me. I knew it."
"I’m here, baby," Julian whispered, his tears hot against her curly hair. "I’m here. You’re safe."
Arthur walked over to the first kidnapper, who was groaning on the floor. "He’s alive, Julian. But we have a bigger problem. His phone is active. He was on a live call with the boss."
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Julian picked up the dropped phone from the floor. The line was still open.
"Julian," a voice said from the speaker—not distorted this time, but clear, cold, and dripping with hatred. It was Victor Vance himself. "You got the girl. Bravo. But you forgot one thing. I don't just have your daughter. I have the scrap girl and her mother. And they are currently sitting in a car that is parked over a frozen river. One button, Julian. That’s all it takes."
