Chapter 5 - THE NIGHT RAID ON PATERNATen minutes later, hiding in the shadows of an industrial alleyway behind the municipal center, Álvaro, Daniel, and Pilar climbed into an unmarked police vehicle driven by Inspector Morales—a senior investigator from the National Police’s Anti-Corruption Division whom Álvaro had managed to reach through a secure satellite phone.
"Your enforcer friend wasn't working alone, Mr. Vidal," Inspector Morales said, his eyes glued to the road as the car tore through the rain-slicked streets of Valencia toward the Paterna industrial park. "We’ve been tracking Ignacio Serrano’s smuggling ring for six months. They use your warehouse as a transit node because your security clearance codes were cloned through an internal network breach."
Daniel, sitting in the back next to his mother, looked up sharply. "Cloned? But I never gave my password to anyone!"
"You didn't have to, son," Morales replied calmly, keeping his eyes on the road. "They installed a keylogger device on your warehouse workstation terminal two months ago. Every time you logged in, they harvested your credentials."
Álvaro stared out the window as the dark silhouette of the Paterna industrial park loomed ahead. The massive corrugated metal warehouses stood silent under the gray dawn sky, their security lights buzzing softly in the damp air.
"We need to move fast," Álvaro said, his voice cold and resolute. "If Ignacio realizes his enforcer has been arrested, he’ll purge the servers and torch the loading docks before dawn."
"That's why we're not waiting for a tactical warrant," Morales said, pulling the unmarked car into the shadowed loading bay of Álvaro’s warehouse. "We're going in through the back maintenance hatch right now."
The team of four—Inspector Morales, Álvaro, Daniel, and a backup tactical unit that had just pulled up behind them—moved with practiced stealth through the labyrinthine service corridors of the warehouse. The air inside smelled of stale cardboard, industrial grease, and fear.
They reached the main server room overlooking the shipping floor. Through the reinforced glass window, they could see a stocky, middle-aged man with graying hair frantically typing commands into a central computer terminal while three armed thugs loaded crates of counterfeit electronics into a waiting transport van parked inside bay four.
Ignacio Serrano.
"That's him," Daniel whispered, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Stay here, kid," Inspector Morales ordered, drawing his service pistol. "Let us handle the rest."
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"No," Álvaro said firmly, stepping forward. "This warehouse is my responsibility. I let rot fester in my own house because I was too blind to see the human being behind the attendance sheet. I'm going in with you."
Before Morales could argue, Álvaro grabbed a heavy steel wrench from a maintenance cart and strode boldly toward the server room door.
