Chapter 13 - The Docks at Midnight
The salt-heavy air of the municipal docks bit sharply against Nathanael’s face as he stepped out of his car. The rain had begun to fall in a steady, miserable drizzle, slicking the asphalt and casting long, distorted reflections from the overhead industrial sodium lights.
Before him loomed Warehouse 4—a massive, corrugated steel structure that had once served as the primary distribution hub for Vance Shipping before Nathanael’s company absorbed it ten years ago. The windows were dark and grime-covered, save for a single sliver of harsh white light leaking from a cracked side door on the second-level loading bay.
Nathanael killed his engine, stepped out into the cold rain, and adjusted his jacket. He was not alone; Agent Vance and a tactical support unit were stationed three hundred yards back in unmarked vehicles, their communications patched directly into an earpiece hidden beneath Nathanael’s collar.
"Remember, Mr. Cross, keep the transmitter open so we can track your audio," Agent Vance’s voice crackled softly in his ear. "Do not engage him physically. We have snipers positioned on the perimeter cranes. As soon as we have a clear visual on Marcus, we move in."
"Understood," Nathanael murmured quietly, his hand pressing against the tiny receiver in his ear.
He walked slowly toward the side door of the warehouse, his footsteps crunching softly on the gravel. The heavy metal door was unlocked, pushed open just an inch as if welcoming him inside. He placed his hand against the cold steel, pushed it open, and stepped into the vast, cavernous interior.
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