Chapter 4 - The Man at the Docks
By noon, Fay's mother had been transferred.
Ellen Miller thought the sudden move came from a charitable foundation connected to the oncology program.
Fay hated lying to her.
But telling a woman receiving chemotherapy that a criminal syndicate might be targeting her daughter seemed worse.
Vincent placed two guards outside the private hospital floor.
Then he took Fay to Dock Seventeen.
She did not want to go.
She insisted anyway.
The waterfront was gray beneath low clouds.
Shipping cranes towered above endless rows of containers.
Vincent's convoy entered through a private gate where armed men waited.
Fay sat in the back of a black SUV beside Vincent.
Neither spoke.
Finally she asked, “Why are you letting me come?”
“I tried telling you no.”
“And?”
“You ignored me.”
For the first time, Fay almost smiled.
Almost.
The SUV stopped near a warehouse.
Vincent opened his door.
“Stay beside me.”
Inside the warehouse, the air smelled of oil, metal, and seawater.
Donovan's body had already been removed.
Fay was grateful.
A long shipping container remained open.
Inside, investigators loyal to Vincent photographed surfaces.
Marco approached carrying a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a photograph.
Fay.
Leaving the cancer center with her mother.
Taken from across the street.
Her stomach turned.
“When?”
Marco showed her the timestamp.
Six days earlier.
Vincent's eyes became lethal.
“They've been watching her for a week.”
“Maybe longer,” Marco said.
Fay hugged herself.
“Why?”
Vincent looked toward the container.
“Because they think you know something.”
“I don't.”
“Then we figure out what they think you know.”
He led her to a nearby office.
A laptop had been placed on a table.
Security footage from the estate's billiards room played on screen.
There was no audio.
Fay watched herself cleaning.
Then Donovan entered.
Then the older man with the raven ring.
Rourke followed.
Fay watched the silent conversation.
Nothing.
“I wasn't listening.”
Vincent leaned closer to the screen.
“Watch yourself.”
Fay did.
On video, she dusted a bookshelf.
The men spoke.
Then Fay suddenly looked toward them.
“Why did you turn?” Vincent asked.
She frowned.
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
The video continued.
Fay closed her eyes.
The smell of furniture polish.
The sound of glasses.
Donovan laughing.
Rourke speaking quietly.
And then—
A phrase.
She opened her eyes.
“Saint Mercy.”
Vincent froze.
“What?”
“They said Saint Mercy.”
Marco's face changed.
Vincent asked, “Exactly?”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
Fay pressed her fingertips to her temples.
“Someone said… Thursday.”
Vincent and Marco exchanged a look.
“What is Saint Mercy?” Fay asked.
Vincent did not answer immediately.
Marco did.
“Saint Mercy is a cargo vessel.”
Fay stared.
“When does it arrive?”
Vincent looked at the wall clock.
“Tonight.”
Silence.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The missing containers.
The altered manifests.
The Volkov representative.
The intimidation.
Donovan's murder.
Rourke's betrayal.
Vincent stepped toward the door.
“Lock down Pier Fourteen.”
Marco nodded.
“No one moves anything off that ship.”
Fay said, “What do you think is on it?”
Vincent looked back.
“Something Rourke was willing to betray me for.”
The next four hours moved rapidly.
Vincent's men secured the pier.
Rourke remained detained at the estate.
Port records revealed twelve containers aboard Saint Mercy carrying forged authorization codes.
Three had numbers matching the previous missing shipments.
Vincent stared at the manifest.
“This wasn't theft.”
Marco frowned.
“What?”
“They were using my distribution network.”
“For what?”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“We'll find out.”
At eight that evening, Saint Mercy entered the harbor.
Rain began falling.
Fay watched from inside a secure office overlooking the docks.
Vincent had ordered her to remain there with two guards.
She obeyed.
For once.
Below, men moved between containers.
The vessel docked.
One container was unloaded.
Then another.
Everything seemed calm.
Too calm.
Fay walked closer to the glass.
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
She stared.
A message appeared.
Tell Cross to leave the pier.
Her blood froze.
A second message arrived.
Or the hospital loses power.
Fay's hands began shaking.
She called Vincent.
He answered immediately.
“What?”
“They know where Mom is.”
Vincent's voice sharpened.
“How?”
She read the message.
Silence.
Then Vincent said, “Listen to me. The hospital has backup generators and my people are there.”
“What if—”
“They're bluffing.”
“How do you know?”
“I don't.”
That honesty terrified her.
“Get away from the windows.”
Fay stepped backward.
Then she noticed movement below.
A man in a maintenance uniform near an electrical junction box.
Something about him looked wrong.
Everyone else on the pier wore rain jackets.
He did not.
“Vincent.”
“What?”
“There’s someone by the power station.”
“Where?”
“East side of the warehouse.”
Vincent shouted something away from the phone.
Fay watched men move.
The maintenance worker turned.
Ran.
A gunshot cracked.
Fay ducked.
Chaos erupted.
Men shouted.
Vehicles accelerated.
The office guards pulled Fay away from the glass.
Then the lights died.
Darkness swallowed the building.
One guard swore.
Emergency lights flickered on.
Fay's phone rang again.
Unknown number.
She answered without thinking.
A man's voice spoke.
“You should have stayed invisible.”
Fay's breath stopped.
“Who are you?”
“You were warned.”
The call ended.
A crash sounded outside the office.
One guard opened the door.
A body fell inward.
The second guard reached for his weapon.
A masked man appeared behind him.
Everything happened too quickly.
Fay screamed.
The attacker struck the guard.
Fay grabbed the nearest object—a heavy metal desk lamp—and swung.
It connected with the man's shoulder.
He staggered.
Fay ran.
Into the hallway.
Footsteps chased her.
She reached the warehouse floor.
Rain blew through an open loading bay.
Gunfire echoed outside.
“Fay!”
Vincent.
She turned.
He was running toward her.
The masked attacker appeared behind her.
Vincent's face changed.
“Down!”
Fay dropped.
Vincent fired once.
The attacker fell.
For several seconds, Fay remained crouched on the concrete, hands covering her ears.
Vincent reached her.
He lowered his gun.
“Are you hit?”
She shook her head.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
His hands hovered near her shoulders, almost touching, before he stopped himself.
Fay stared past him at the fallen attacker.
Vincent followed her gaze.
Marco pulled away the mask.
Everyone froze.
Fay whispered, “I know him.”
Vincent looked at her.
“From where?”
“He works at my mother's hospital.”
The man was one of the security officers from the oncology wing.
And suddenly the threat was no longer outside the Cross organization.
It had reached the hospital.
Reached her mother.
Vincent's phone rang.
He answered.
His face lost all color.
“What happened?”
Fay knew before he spoke.
Something had happened at the hospital.
Vincent listened for several seconds.
Then looked at her.
“The fire alarm was triggered.”
Fay's heart stopped.
“Mom?”
“My men are with her.”
“Is she safe?”
Vincent did not answer immediately.
“Vincent.”
He took her hand.
The first time he had ever done so.
“We're going to her now.”
But as they ran toward the vehicles, neither of them knew one terrible truth waiting at the hospital.
Ellen Miller was safe.
Her room was empty.
Because ten minutes earlier, someone wearing a doctor's coat had convinced her that her daughter had been injured.
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And Ellen had willingly followed him downstairs.
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