Chapter 6 - The Trap at the Docks
By 4:00 AM, the fire from the courtyard had died down. Arthur’s strike team had been completely neutralized—half of them detained by Vance’s operatives, the other half fleeing into the surrounding woods.
Inside my study, the laptop screen glowed with an active signal from an encrypted GPS tracker.
"When Nora was taken down to the vault," Vance explained, pointing at the flashing red dot moving rapidly toward the city harbor, "we intentionally left her personal vehicle unlocked in the sub-garage. As expected, she used the emergency manual release lever—which we loosened—and escaped through the drainage tunnel."
"And she took the bait?" I asked, bandaging the graze on my right shoulder.
"She thinks she stole her backup passport and a million dollars in bearer bonds from your safe," Vance grinned darkly. "She’s heading straight to Arthur’s private yacht at Pier 42. She thinks her father is going to evacuate her to South America."
"She has no idea Arthur ordered her execution twenty minutes ago," I said, standing up and pulling on a fresh black coat. "Arthur won't let her board that boat alive. She's a liability now."
"We have two teams moving to Pier 42 now, sir," Vance said. "Do we call the federal marshals?"
"Not yet," I replied, grabbing my gloves from the desk. "I want Arthur to see my face when his empire collapses."
Fifteen minutes later, a fleet of three black sedans pulled into the shadow of the industrial warehouses overlooking Pier 42.
The harbor was shrouded in a thick, rolling sea fog. The distant hum of foghorns echoed across the dark water. At the end of the concrete pier sat The Sovereign—a two-hundred-foot luxury megayacht belonging to the Sterling family.
Through high-powered binoculars, I watched as Nora’s rental sedan screeched to a halt near the gangway. She stumbled out of the car, clutching a leather duffel bag, her hair wild, her dress torn from her escape through the drainage tunnel.
"Father!" Nora screamed, running toward the gangway where two of Arthur’s personal bodyguards stood waiting in dark overcoats. "Father! Open the door! Julian went crazy! He has the child! He has the phone!"
The two bodyguards didn't move to help her up the stairs. Instead, one of them slowly reached into his heavy coat and pulled out a silenced pistol.
Nora froze on the concrete dock, her voice catching in her throat. "What... what are you doing? I'm Nora! Let me speak to my father!"
The door to the yacht's upper deck opened. Arthur Sterling stepped out onto the balcony, wrapped in a heavy camel-hair coat, holding a glass of scotch. He looked down at his daughter with the same cold, dismissive look he had given Amelia’s death.
"You failed, Nora," Arthur’s voice carried over the quiet lap of the waves. "You were careless. You allowed a four-year-old child to ruin a multi-billion-dollar acquisition. You are broken goods."
"Father! Please!" Nora dropped to her knees on the cold concrete, weeping hysterically. "I did everything you asked! I killed Amelia for you! I stayed with Julian for four years! Don't leave me!"
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"Eliminate her," Arthur said softly to the bodyguard, turning his back to walk back inside the warm cabin.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I spoke through a high-powered bullhorn from the shadow of the warehouse behind them.
