Chapter 11 - The Iron Highway
Ethan pulled himself through the narrow, freezing concrete conduit beneath Pierce Tower. The water from the city's storm runoff soaked through his clothes, but adrenaline burned like wildfire through his veins.
He emerged through an access grate into the subterranean tracks of the PATH transit system beneath the Hudson River.
Covered in grime and water, he moved like a shadow along the catwalks, avoiding the electrified third rail, heading west toward New Jersey. It took forty minutes of grueling, bone-chilling exertion to reach the ventilation shafts near the Jersey City rail yards.
When he climbed out onto street level, the rain was pouring down in sheets, drenching the industrial wasteland of Pier 14.
The abandoned rail yard was a sprawling graveyard of rusted boxcars, rotting wooden ties, and decaying shipping warehouses jutting out into the black water of the Hudson Bay.
Parked beside Warehouse 3 was the black Sikorsky helicopter, its rotors tied down against the rising coastal wind. Armed sentries in dark slickers patrolled the perimeter with flashlights, their weapons held low under their ponchos.
Ethan moved through the shadows of the boxcars, his mind functioning with predatory clarity. He had no weapon now; he had lost the rifle in the drainage shaft. He had only his bare hands, his knowledge of the terrain, and the small green pebble clutched inside his coat pocket.
Through the rain-streaked windows of the second-story administrative building overlooking the dock, he saw a warm light.
Silhouetted against the glass was Elena, tied to a chair, and Victoria pacing back and forth, phone pressed to her ear, growing increasingly agitated.
On the table in the center of the room sat Lily's pink backpack.
Lily was nowhere in sight.
Ethan's stomach dropped into a bottomless void. Where was his daughter?
Suddenly, a heavy rifle butt slammed into the center of Ethan's back, driving him face-first into the freezing mud.
A gloved hand grabbed him by his wet hair, yanking his head backward. A flashlight pinned him in its harsh white beam.
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"Look who crawled out of the sewer," a mercenary laughed into his radio. "Boss, we got Pierce. Bringing him up."
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