Chapter 12 - The Traitor Within
The night was black as pitch, swallowed by a freezing drizzle that slicked the pavement of Pier 42.
The industrial docklands smelled of diesel, rust, and brine. Massive shipping containers were stacked three stories high, creating a labyrinth of metal corridors bathed in the harsh yellow glow of sodium floodlights.
Julian and four of Adrian’s most trusted operators moved silently through the perimeter, disabling security cameras and taking out Marcone’s lookouts without a sound.
I stayed behind Adrian, moving through the maze of containers, the ballistic vest snug against my ribs. I had a tactical radio clipped to my shoulder and a small semi-automatic pistol Adrian had spent an hour teaching me how to disengage the safety on.
*Point, squeeze, don't hesitate,* his voice echoed in my head.
Suddenly, Adrian held up a closed fist.
We froze behind a blue Maersk container.
Just ahead, in a clearing between two warehouses, three black sedans were idling, their headlights illuminating a cluster of men standing around an open shipping container. Inside, wooden crates stamped with Cyrillic lettering were being pried open, revealing rows of black assault rifles.
Standing in the center of the circle was Victor Marcone.
And standing right beside him, holding a manifest clipboard, was Dominic—one of Adrian’s top five lieutenants. The man who had sat at the conference table the night the pipe broke.
My heart dropped into my stomach. “Dominic...” I breathed.
“The mole,” Adrian whispered, his jaw ticking with murderous rage. “He didn't just leak the gate codes. He’s been selling Marcone our transport routes for six months.”
“What do we do?” I whispered.
Adrian checked the magazine of his customized rifle with a quiet *click*.
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“We end it,” he said.
***