Chapter 22 - Shadows at the Cliff
The North Cliff dock was an abandoned relic of the town’s long-dead whaling era. Perched on a jagged outcropping of black basalt that dropped fifty feet into the churning, freezing surf of the northern Atlantic, it was accessible by only a single rutted dirt track that wound through dense stands of frosted pines.
At twenty minutes to midnight, a solitary pair of headlights cut through the swirling snow.
Alexander sat behind the wheel of Gabriel’s beat-up pickup truck, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his tendons strained against his skin. Beside him in the passenger seat sat a bundle wrapped in heavy wool blankets and a child’s red hooded winter jacket, arranged meticulously to mimic a sleeping four-year-old boy.
His phone buzzed on the dashboard. He tapped the speaker.
"I’m in position above the old winch shed," Gabriel’s voice crackled through the static-laced earpiece. "Two snipers on the catwalk of the processing plant. Three ground operatives near the edge of the pier. And Julianna is sitting inside a black armored Suburban near the edge of the drop. Elena is in the back seat."
"Can you take the shooters?" Alexander asked, his voice dead and level.
"Not simultaneously without risking Elena," Gabriel replied grimly. "Julianna has a dead-man tether on the car doors. If the shooting starts before we get Elena clear, they can shove the whole vehicle over the cliff into the sea. You have to walk in there, Alexander. You have to be the bait."
"I was always the bait," Alexander muttered.
He killed the engine. The silence of the freezing night descended instantly, broken only by the roar of the waves crashing against the jagged rocks below and the violent whistle of the gale.
Alexander stepped out into the freezing mud. The cold bit through his coat, but he barely felt it. He reached into the passenger side, scooped the bundled blankets into his left arm against his chest, and began walking toward the blinding halogen lights mounted on the Suburban fifty yards away.
Every step felt like walking through wet cement. The glare of the high beams blinded him, but as he closed the distance, the back door of the SUV swung open. A large man in black tactical gear stepped out, dragging Elena by her bound wrists. Her hair was matted with frozen sweat, her lip split, but when her eyes met Alexander’s through the swirling snow, the sheer ferocity in her gaze took his breath away.
"Alexander, no!" she screamed into the gale, her voice raw and cracked. "Don't do it! Run! It’s a trap—she never meant to let anyone leave!"
A hand wearing a crimson leather glove reached out from the vehicle and shoved Elena brutally to her knees in the freezing slush.
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Then, Julianna Sterling stepped into the light.
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