Chapter 29 - The Fortress Breached
Alexander moved through the frozen shadows of the fish-packing district like a ghost.
The sub-zero wind numbed the pain in his ribs, but the taste of copper in the back of his mouth told him his internal bleeding wasn't entirely stopped. He kept low, hugging the ice-caked corrugated metal walls of the warehouses, his boots making no sound in the fresh powder.
Ahead of him stood the harbor master’s tower—a four-story concrete structure overlooking the mouth of the bay. At the top of the tower, behind reinforced glass, a high-intensity spotlight swept rhythmically across the black water, searching for any vessel attempting an unauthorized departure.
Two armed contractors in arctic camouflage stood guard at the base of the exterior steel staircase.
Alexander reached into his pocket and pulled out the brass flare casing he had kept from the dock fight. He threw it hard against the metal hull of an abandoned forklift thirty feet to the right.
The hollow *CLANG* echoed loudly through the alley.
"Check it out," one of the guards muttered in a flat, professional tone.
The first guard moved off to investigate, rifle raised. As the second guard turned his back to cover his partner, Alexander lunged from the shadows.
He didn't use the gun. He drove his shoulder into the guard's back, slamming him against the concrete tower wall, and wrapped his arm around the man's throat in a sleeper hold. The guard struggled violently, his heavy tactical gear scraping against the rough concrete, but Alexander held on with desperate, animalistic strength until the man went limp in his arms.
Alexander lowered the unconscious body into the snow, snatched the guard’s suppressed sidearm, and rounded the corner.
The second guard heard the scuffle and swung his rifle around, but Alexander was faster. Two quiet *thwips* spat from the suppressed barrel, and the second man collapsed silently into the drift.
Alexander took the steel stairs three at a time, ignoring the agony tearing through his side.
He reached the top landing, kicked the steel door open, and breached the control room.
The mercenary commander inside—a scarred, burly man wearing a tactical communications headset—spun around, drawing a heavy revolver from his hip. Alexander fired, but the commander dove behind the heavy metal console, returning fire. The deafening *BOOM* of the magnum round shattered the control room glass, sending freezing wind and sleet roaring inside.
Alexander dove behind the main electrical rack as wood splinters and shredded circuit boards rained down around him.
"Vance!" the commander barked over the roar of the wind. "You're fighting for a corpse, you idiot! Marcus Sterling has already mobilized the board in New York! Even if that boat leaves the dock, you'll never leave this state alive!"
"Then I guess I have nothing left to lose," Alexander yelled back.
Alexander rolled from cover, firing three rapid shots into the base of the console. One round severed the main pneumatic hydraulic line. A blast of pressurized, scalding hydraulic fluid sprayed directly into the commander’s face.
The man shrieked, clutching his burned eyes, firing his revolver blindly into the ceiling. Alexander closed the distance in a single bound, disarmed the commander with a brutal strike to the wrist, and knocked him unconscious with a heavy blow to the temple using the steel grip of his weapon.
Breathing heavily, his chest heaving, Alexander looked out the shattered window.
Down in the bay, *The Iron Gull* had cast off her lines. Her twin diesel engines rumbled to life, sending black smoke billowing into the snowstorm. On the forward deck, Gabriel stood holding a rifle, while Elena held Leo tightly against her chest, her eyes searching the tower window.
Alexander smashed the emergency lock override with the butt of his gun.
A heavy horn blared across the bay. The massive steel sea gates groaned, slowly sinking into the dark water, opening the passage to the open ocean. Alexander reached for the harbor control panel, flipped the secondary breaker, and ignited the massive green maritime beacon.
The brilliant emerald beam cut through the storm, illuminating the path forward.
On the deck of the trawler, Elena looked up at the tower. Through the swirling snow, across the distance, her eyes locked with Alexander’s. She raised her hand, her lips moving silently in a prayer, as the heavy trawler pushed through the drift ice, accelerating toward the safety of international waters.
Alexander watched until the red stern lights vanished into the impenetrable northern fog.
May you like
They were safe.
***
