Chapter 5 - The Trap at the Docks
The rain had returned, heavier and colder than before, turning the Boston harbor into a gray, churning wasteland of salt water and concrete.
At Pier 42, the old, abandoned salt storage facility stood like a decaying skeleton against the dark sky. The corrugated metal walls rattled in the wind, and the water lapped violently against the wooden pilings below.
A single black sedan pulled into the yard, its headlights cutting through the sheets of rain.
The door opened, and Dimitri Markov stepped out. He was a tall, elegant man in his late forties, his silver hair slicked back, wearing a bespoke cashmere overcoat. On his left wrist, the celestial blue dial of his Patek Philippe watch caught the dim light of the dashboard.
Behind him, three SUVs emptied, releasing a dozen heavily armed men who quickly formed a perimeter around the entrance of the warehouse.
"Is he inside?" Dimitri asked, his voice smooth and cold.
"Our source says he brought the girl and the bartender here," one of his men replied. "He’s trying to slip them onto a cargo ship bound for Halifax. He’s desperate, Dimitri. He’s running."
Dimitri smiled, a thin, cruel expression. "Excellent. Let’s end this family reunion once and for all."
He walked into the dark, cavernous warehouse. The air smelled of salt, wet wood, and old iron. The only light came from a single, hanging bulb in the center of the space, casting long, dancing shadows across the concrete floor.
Standing beneath the light was Josie.
She wore her faded green apron over her coat, her hands tucked into her pockets, her face pale but entirely steady. Beside her sat a small, figure in a navy wool coat and a beret, her face hidden beneath the brim of her hat.
"Dimitri," Josie said, her voice echoing off the metal walls.
Dimitri stopped twenty feet away, his men fanning out behind him, their weapons raised.
"Well, well," Dimitri said, his eyes scanning the dark corners of the ceiling. "The brave little bartender. I must admit, you’ve caused me a great deal of trouble. If you had just kept serving your cheap drinks and ignored the brat, you’d still be in your dirty little pub."
"She was hungry, Dimitri," Josie said. "And you... you were greedy."
"Greedy?" Dimitri laughed, a dry, hollow sound. "Viktor was weak. He was soft. He fell in love with a woman who wanted him to be a businessman instead of a king. I did him a favor. I freed him from his chains."
"You killed Katherine," Josie said, her hand tightening inside her pocket.
"A necessary casualty," Dimitri said, taking a step closer. "And now, unfortunately, you and the little mute will have to join her. Where is Viktor? Did he run like a dog, leaving his precious new family to die?"
"No," a voice called out from the darkness.
From behind a massive stack of salt pallets, Viktor Vance stepped into the light. He carried no weapon in his hands, but his expression was that of a man who had already passed judgment.
"I’m right here, Dimitri," Viktor said.
Dimitri’s men immediately aimed their weapons at Viktor, but before they could pull the triggers, the metal walls of the warehouse seemed to burst inward.
The windows along the roof shattered as dozens of tear gas canisters rained down, filling the space with thick, white smoke. From the shadows, the tactical team from Providence—the mercenaries Viktor had hired—appeared like ghosts, their automatic weapons barking in the darkness.
"It’s a trap!" Dimitri screamed, drawing his pistol as he lunged toward Josie and the child.
Josie did not run. She grabbed the figure in the navy coat and threw her behind a heavy steel drum.
Dimitri fired twice, his bullets sparking against the metal. He reached out, his hand wrapping around Josie's throat, slamming her against the concrete floor. His fingers dug into her skin, his blue-faced watch pressing cold against her jaw.
"You ruined everything!" Dimitri snarled, his eyes wild with a manic, murderous rage.
Bang.
The sound of a single, heavy pistol round echoed through the smoke.
Dimitri froze. His grip on Josie’s throat loosened, and his eyes went wide as he looked down at his own chest. A dark, blooming circle of red was spreading across his white silk shirt.
He turned slowly.
Viktor stood ten feet away, his smoking .45 caliber pistol held steady in his hand. His eyes were cold, dead, and entirely devoid of mercy.
"For Katherine," Viktor said.
He fired once more.
Dimitri fell backward, his body crashing into the dark water of the harbor below the warehouse floor, the splash quickly swallowed by the roaring rain and the sound of the Atlantic.
The silence returned to the warehouse, save for the coughing of the wounded men and the hum of the rain.
Viktor rushed forward, dropping his weapon as he fell to his knees beside Josie. He lifted her head, his hands shaking.
"Josie," Viktor gasped. "Are you alright? Did he..."
"I'm okay," Josie choked out, her throat raw and bruised. "I'm okay."
She pointed toward the steel drum. "Get her."
Viktor ran to the drum and pulled the figure in the navy coat into his arms. He pulled back the beret, expecting to see his daughter’s terrified face.
Instead, he looked into the face of a plastic mannequin dressed in Mila’s clothes.
"Where is she?" Viktor asked, turning back to Josie in shock.
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Josie stood up, wiping the dust from her coat. A small, victorious smile crossed her lips.
"She’s at the estate," Josie said. "With Mateo and Caleb. I told you, Viktor. We weren't going to risk her life again. We just needed him to think we did."
