Chapter 8
The deafening roar of the flashbang echoed off the metal walls of the rail cars, leaving a high-pitched ringing in Marcus’s ears as he hit the gravel hard, scrambling away from the blinding smoke. By the time his vision cleared and the acrid smell of sulfur filled the air, Terrell had already vanished into the pitch-black interior of the moving freight train as it slowly began to rumble down the tracks. The police officers swarmed the train car, shouting commands into their radios, but it was already too late to safely board the accelerating locomotive without endangering civilian lives. The lead detective rushed over to Marcus, pulling him up by his arm and checking him for injuries.
"Are you hit?" she demanded, her voice sharp with adrenaline.
Marcus shook his head, coughing slightly from the smoke as he stared down the empty tracks where the train was disappearing into the night. "I'm fine. But he's heading north toward the state line. He's got a burner phone, and he's meeting someone at the old distribution depot in Philly."
The detective stared at Marcus, her professional skepticism finally giving way to begrudging respect. "How do you know where he's going?"
"Because while he was ranting earlier, he dropped a slip of paper from his pocket," Marcus lied smoothly, holding up a crumpled receipt he had actually grabbed from Terrell's car console during the chaos. "He ordered a drop-off locker at the central station up north. That's where the rest of the stolen money is hidden."
The detective didn't question him further. She immediately coordinated a regional roadblock alert with state troopers, commandeering a marked cruiser to pursue the suspect along the interstate highway. She looked at Marcus, her expression firm. "You're coming with us as a material witness. Get in the back."
Forty-five minutes later, the cruiser screamed off the highway exit ramp and pulled up to the abandoned distribution depot on the outskirts of the city. The sprawling complex was dark, save for a single flickering security light over Loading Bay 7. Terrell’s dark sedan was parked right in front of the sliding metal door, its engine still warm. The police units cut their sirens a mile back, creeping up silently to box the building in.
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Marcus stepped out of the cruiser into the bitter wind, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm. He knew Terrell was desperate, cornered, and entirely out of options. If they didn't act carefully, someone was going to die tonight.
As the tactical team breached the side door of the warehouse, a muffled gunshot rang out from deep within the shadows, followed by the sound of shattering glass and a desperate shout for a medic.
