Chapter 3 - Shattering the Harbor Monopoly
The subterranean escape tunnel led them out onto a rocky ledge halfway down the jagged cliffs of the Carter estate, hidden behind a thick wall of frost-covered pine boughs. Above them, the sound of splintering oak echoed through the cold night air as Mayor Vance's men breached the front doors of the mansion.
"They're tearing the place apart looking for the panic room override," Silas whispered, peering through binoculars toward the upper-floor windows where flashlight beams cut erratically through the dark rooms. "They think I'm trapped inside like a rat."
"Good," Nora whispered back, her boots planted firmly on the frozen moss. Her grip on the pistol was steady now, the initial panic giving way to a cold, razor-sharp focus. "Let them waste their time tearing up your furniture. While they're searching the house, where are they keeping the shipping ledgers?"
Silas lowered the binoculars, a slow, approving smile touching the corner of his bruised mouth. "The municipal records office is closed for the night. But Vance keeps a secondary physical server and backup ledgers in his private office at the main fish-processing plant down on the public pier."
"The same pier where you were left to die," Nora noted.
"Poetic, isn't it?" Silas shifted his weight, his broad shoulders tensing beneath the tactical vest. "If we hit the plant now, before they realize we escaped through the tunnels, we can secure the hard proof of your father's murder and every illegal manifest Vance has filed in the last five years. But it won't be empty. Vance always keeps a security detail down by the ice-houses."
"Then we don't ask politely," Nora said, cocking her head toward the narrow coastal trail winding down the cliffside. "Lead the way, Carter. Let's go crash a monopoly."
Moving through the freezing Maine woods under the cover of darkness was second nature to Nora—she had spent her entire childhood tracking deer and hauling lobster traps with her father. Silas, despite his injuries, moved with the silent, lethal efficiency of a man who had built an empire by outmaneuvering cutthroats. Within twenty minutes, they had descended from the cliffs and slipped into the shadows of the Ironwood Bay commercial harbor.
The fish-processing plant loomed like a hulking industrial ghost against the dark water, its corrugated metal walls rattling in the wind. Two armed guards in black tactical gear stood smoking near the loading bay doors, their breath pluming in the freezing air.
"Stay behind me," Silas muttered, shifting the tactical shotgun into his right hand.
"No," Nora whispered firmly, stepping past him with the pistol raised. "You're still bleeding, Silas. And I'm the one they aren't expecting."
Before Silas could argue, Nora slipped silently across the open stretch of gravel, using the rusted frame of an old forklift as cover. She closed the distance between herself and the nearest guard with terrifying speed. As the man turned to flick his cigarette into the snow, Nora lunged from the shadows, striking the heavy butt of her pistol against the back of his tactical helmet with a dull thud.
The guard crumpled instantly, unconscious before he hit the ground.
The second guard whipped his rifle around, shouting a warning, but before he could squeeze the trigger, a thunderous blast echoed across the harbor. Silas had fired from thirty yards out, the buckshot blowing out the security floodlight directly above the loading dock, plunging the area into deep, disorienting shadow.
Nora didn't hesitate; she closed the remaining gap, swept the second guard’s legs out from under him, and pressed the barrel of her pistol straight against his chest.
"Don't even think about it," she hissed, her voice colder than the ice on the bay.
The guard dropped his weapon instantly, hands raised in surrender. "Jesus Christ... don't shoot! I'm just a night watchman!"
"You're watching the wrong warehouse," Silas growled, walking up behind her and grabbing the guard by the collar, hoisting him to his feet. "Open the side door to Vance’s office, or you'll be swimming with the dogfish by sunrise."
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Trembling violently, the guard fumbled a master key ring from his belt and unlocked the reinforced side door. They shoved him inside into the dark, chemical-smelling hallway, locking the door behind them.
They were inside the belly of the beast. Now came the hard part: finding the evidence that would tear Mayor Vance's empire down to the studs.
