Chapter 5 - The Trap at Dock 42
The rain poured heavily over Dock 42 in Baltimore. The cold Atlantic wind whistled through massive rust-colored shipping containers.
Adrien stepped out of his armored SUV, flanked by Marco and six heavily armed men. Across the open asphalt of the warehouse, Don Carmine Falcone sat inside a heated glass office, surrounded by twenty bodyguards.
Carmine Falcone was sixty, heavy-set, with silver hair and a ruthless reputation. He smiled as Adrien walked in, sipping an expensive cognac.
"Adrien!" Falcone called out, his voice booming. "You look tired, my boy! How are those sweet little triplets of yours? Still crying their eyes out?"
Adrien walked to the middle of the room, standing straight and tall. He didn't smile. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the plastic yellow button Sophie had given him, and held it tightly in his palm.
"My children are sleeping peacefully, Carmine," Adrien said coldly.
Falcone’s smile faltered slightly. "Is that so? I heard you were spending millions on doctors. A shame about your wife's sister, by the way. She seems to have vanished from the city."
"Victoria is in a federal holding cell," Adrien replied smoothly. "She gave us her satellite phone. She gave us the bank accounts. And she gave us the serial numbers of the acoustic devices you bought from Switzerland."
The atmosphere in the room instantly shifted. Falcone’s bodyguards reached for their weapons under their coats. Marco and Adrien’s men raised their submachine guns.
Falcone slowly set his glass down. The jovial old man act disappeared, replaced by a snarling predator.
"You think you’re smart, Moretti?" Falcone spat. "So what if you found the toy? You're in my warehouse. You brought seven men into a place surrounded by thirty of mine. You die here tonight, and your shipping ports belong to me by morning."
Adrien chuckled—a low, terrifying sound that made Falcone’s men shift uncomfortably.
"You made one mistake, Carmine," Adrien said softly.
"Oh yeah? What’s that?"
"You assumed I came here to negotiate," Adrien said.
Adrien raised his left hand and snapped his fingers.
Suddenly, the massive metal walls of the warehouse rattled as bright spotlight beams blew through every window. The loud, deafening chop of tactical helicopters echoed from the sky above. The heavy steel doors of the warehouse were smashed open as armored vehicles plowed through, revealing dozens of federal agents alongside Moretti tactical units.
"FBI! Nobody move! Drop your weapons!" a voice boomed over a loudspeaker.
Falcone gasped, jumping out of his chair. "You called the feds?! You brought the law into a mob dispute?!"
"I didn't call them for a mob dispute, Carmine," Adrien said, stepping back as his men covered him. "I gave them international evidence of illegal military weapons deployment on domestic soil. You used a weapon of war against three fifteen-month-old American citizens. The FBI doesn't care about shipping ports. They care about terrorism."
Falcone’s face turned gray as federal agents swarmed the office, tackling his bodyguards to the ground and slamming the old mob boss against the glass wall, slapping heavy iron cuffs onto his wrists.
May you like
As Falcone was dragged past him, screaming curses, Adrien leaned in close to his ear.
"If you ever even think about my children again," Adrien whispered, "I will make sure the prison you end up in feels far worse than that acoustic wave."
