Chapter 6 - Shadows on the Waterfront
The old Narragansett ironworks stood like a rusted skeleton against the black sky, its massive steel beams weeping orange rust into the dark waters of the bay. The rain had returned, a cold, relentless drizzle that slicked the gravel pathways and made the old crane tower creak in the wind.
Daniel’s black armored sedan slipped through the rusted gates without its headlights on, stopping behind a row of abandoned shipping containers.
In the front seat, Marcus checked his weapon, the metallic slide of his pistol clicking in the quiet car.
“We have four scouts on the perimeter, Boss,” Marcus said, looking at a small thermal tablet on the dashboard. “Two near the main office, two near the tower. They’re wearing Whitlock colors.”
“Take them out quietly, Marcus,” Daniel ordered from the back seat, his arm wrapped protectively around Hannah’s shoulders. “No noise. We have thirty minutes before the harbor patrol makes their rounds.”
“You got it,” Marcus said, slipping out of the car into the rain like a shadow.
Hannah sat close to Daniel, her hand resting on her stomach. The baby was quiet tonight, as if sensing the danger that surrounded them.
“Are you scared?” Daniel whispered, his lips brushing her temple.
“A little,” she admitted. “But more than that... I’m angry. I’m tired of running from these people, Daniel.”
“You don't have to run anymore,” he said. “This ends tonight.”
A soft tap on the window signaled Marcus’s return. He opened the driver’s door, his face wet with rain. “Perimeter is clear, Boss. But we have a problem. There’s a light on in the main office. Someone’s inside.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened. He looked at Hannah. “Stay in the car with Marcus. I’m going to the tower.”
“No,” Hannah said, grabbing his hand. “The loose floorboard is under the old control console. It’s painted blue, but the paint has peeled. You have to press the rusted lever on the side to release the latch. You’ll never find it in the dark, Daniel.”
Daniel swore softly, looking at the dark crane tower rising fifty feet into the air. He looked at Marcus. “Keep the engine running. If you hear a shot, you take her and get out.”
“Boss—”
“That’s an order, Marcus.”
Daniel helped Hannah out of the car, shielding her from the rain with his heavy coat. They moved quickly across the gravel, the wind howling through the hollow steel structures of the ironworks.
The stairs to the tower were rusted and narrow, creaking under their weight. Daniel went first, his hand holding hers, his body positioned to take any bullet meant for her.
When they reached the control room at the top, the wind howled through the broken glass windows. The room smelled of old grease, bird droppings, and wet rust.
Hannah knelt beside the old iron console, her hands searching the floorboards in the dark.
“Here,” she whispered, her fingers catching on a piece of rotted wood. “Daniel, help me with this lever.”
Daniel knelt beside her, his powerful hands grasping the rusted iron lever on the side of the console. With a grunt of effort, he pulled it backward. A loud, metallic click echoed through the tower, and a small section of the floorboard popped upward.
Inside the hidden compartment lay a dusty leather ledger and a small, silver flash drive.
“We found it,” Hannah gasped, tears of relief filling her eyes.
“Not so fast, Carver.”
A sharp, metallic click sounded from the doorway.
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Claire Whitlock stood in the entrance of the tower, her hair wet with rain, a small, silver pistol aimed directly at Hannah’s chest. Behind her stood two large men with automatic weapons.
“I knew you’d come here,” Claire sneered, her eyes glittering with a manic, vengeful light. “My father thought you were smarter than this, Daniel. But you’re just like every other man. You’ll risk everything for a pretty face and a gutter-rat’s baby.”
