Chapter 9 - THE OLD FISH WAREHOUSE
The armored sedan sped through the deserted streets of Boston Harbor,
screeching to a halt outside a derelict,
snow-covered fish warehouse.
Dark shadows clung to the rotting wooden piers where icy black waves crashed against the pilings.
Three unmarked black SUVs were already parked outside,
their engines idling in the freezing air.
Several armed men in tactical gear waited by the side entrance,
nodding respectfully as Nathaniel and Emma stepped out of the car.
“Status?” Nathaniel demanded,
pulling his black leather gloves tight over his knuckles.
“Marcus is barricaded on the second floor catwalk,
” the lead operative reported.
“He has a detonator wired to a propane tank,
and Vance is tied to a steel pillar.
”
Nathaniel cocked his 9mm pistol with a sharp,
metallic click that echoed in the freezing night.
“Emma,
stay behind the armored van,
” Nathaniel ordered,
his voice brooking no argument.
“I’m not staying in the car while you risk your life,
” Emma whispered fiercely,
gripping a heavy metal flashlight she had grabbed from the dashboard.
Nathaniel didn't argue further; he simply grabbed her hand,
pulling her swiftly into the shadows of the warehouse entrance.
Inside,
the air smelled of salt,
rotting fish,
and gunsmoke.
The cavernous ground floor echoed with the distant sound of Marcus shouting hysterical threats upstairs.
“Caldwell! I know you're down there!” Marcus screamed from the catwalk above.
“Step out into the light,
or I blow this entire pier straight to hell!”
Nathaniel signaled his men to flank the metal staircase while he stepped boldly into the center of the warehouse floor.
“I’m right here,
Marcus,
” Nathaniel called out,
his voice ringing loud and steady through the abandoned building.
“Let Vance go,
May you like
and we can talk about how you want to spend your last free minutes.
”
