Chapter 10 - Unraveling the Mastermind
Dr. Vance Sterling stepped into the bright beam of the spotlight,
a thin,
arrogant smile touching his lips as he looked at Gabriel Falcone.
"Gabriel,"
Sterling said,
his voice filled with smooth,
insulting warmth.
"I must admit,"
"I am thoroughly impressed."
"I expected Marco to bring me your head three days ago,"
"yet here you are,"
"standing on my dock,"
"stealing my inventory."
Gabriel didn't flinch.
He stood tall against the rain,
his hand resting calmly inside his coat pocket.
"Your inventory is finished,
Sterling,"
Gabriel said,
his voice carrying clearly over the sound of the wind.
"Your plot with Marco was exposed at the Gotham Club four hours ago."
"The Commission knows everything."
Sterling chuckled softly,
shaking his head in mock pity.
"The Commission is a relic of the past,
Gabriel,"
Sterling declared,
taking a step closer.
"A collection of uneducated old men who think they rule the world because they control a few unions and trucking lines."
"They didn't understand the power of modern medicine,"
"the power of invisible,
molecular warfare."
He pointed his gold-headed cane at me.
"And you,"
Sterling said,
his eyes narrowing with intense curiosity.
"The little Paterson seamstress who ruined a fifty-million-dollar acquisition plan."
"How did you spot the organophosphate signature?"
"Even my chief bio-chemist swore it was undetectable."
I took a step forward,
standing shoulder to shoulder with Gabriel.
"Your chemist learned about compounds from books,
Dr. Sterling,"
I replied coldly.
"I learned about them from watching poor women die in Paterson garment factories."
"You thought because we were poor,"
"we were blind."
"A romantic speech,"
Sterling mocked,
raising his hand to signal his gunmen on the container tops above.
"Unfortunately,"
"none of you are going to leave this berth alive."
"When the sun comes up,"
"the police will find a tragic shootout between rival harbor gangs,"
"and my cargo will proceed to its destinations exactly as planned."
Before Sterling could lower his hand,
I noticed something sitting directly behind his team of guards—a large industrial tank mounted on a flatbed trailer,
labeled PRESSURIZED ANHYDROUS AMMONIA for the port's refrigeration units.
"Carmine!"
I hissed under my breath,
pointing my thumb toward the valve assembly on the main ammonia tank.
"The brass control valve!"
"Three inches above the red pressure gauge!"
Carmine didn't ask questions.
In one fluid,
blinding motion,
he drew his pistol,
pivoted on his heel,
and fired two precise heavy rounds straight into the brass valve assembly thirty yards away.
CLANG!
CLANG!
The high-pressure brass valve shattered violently,
and a massive,
expanding cloud of white,
super-cooled ammonia gas burst into the air with a deafening,
hissing roar.
The thick chemical vapor expanded rapidly through the narrow container lane,
instantly blinding Sterling's gunmen on the upper stacks and filling the air with a suffocating,
choking cloud.
"Cover your faces!"
Gabriel bellowed,
grabbing Sterling by the collar of his camel-hair coat before the billionaire executive could run into the white haze.
Sterling screamed in terror as Gabriel dragged him down onto the wet concrete floor,
shoving a heavy pair of steel handcuffs around his wrists.
The gunmen above,
blinded by the burning ammonia gas,
stumbled back from the edges of the containers,
dropping their weapons as they choked on the dense vapor.
Carmine and our security guards quickly swept through the smoke,
disarming the remaining mercenaries and securing the entire perimeter within ninety seconds.
Ten minutes later,
the rain began to ease,
and the ammonia cloud dissipated slowly into the sea breeze over the bay.
Dr. Vance Sterling sat on an overturned wooden crate,
his expensive coat ruined,
his face streaked with soot and tears,
his hands bound tightly behind his back.
Gabriel stood over him,
holding the leather binder containing the complete financial evidence and chemical schematics.
"It's over,
Sterling,"
Gabriel stated,
his voice cold,
final,
and absolute.
"You are going to sign a full confession tonight,"
"and every piece of property,"
"every clinic,"
"and every laboratory you own will be turned over to the Commission."
Gabriel turned around,
looking directly at me with an expression of profound,
unshakable gratitude.
"Elena,"
Gabriel said,
his voice echoing across the quiet dock.
"You started this week cleaning coffee stains off my floor for fourteen dollars an hour."
He stepped closer,
placing his heavy hand gently on my shoulder.
"From this night forward,"
"you are the Chief Forensic and Strategic Officer of the Falcone organization."
"You answer only to me,"
"you command your own security detail,"
"and you will never have to answer to an arrogant doctor or boss ever again."
I looked past Gabriel at the towering Manhattan skyline across the water,
feeling the cool river wind against my face.
May you like
My mother's unpaid debt was gone.
The men who had poisoned my city were in chains.
