Chapter 17 - Pier Forty-Seven
Baltimore smelled exactly as Ethan remembered it.
Salt.
Diesel.
Wet steel.
And old smoke.
Pier Forty-Seven had been abandoned for more than a decade, its warehouses condemned behind rusted fencing and faded federal hazard signs.
Officially, Ethan and I were not there.
Unofficially, thirty-two federal agents surrounded the property.
Vale had demanded we come alone.
We did not respect that demand.
I wore a concealed transmitter beneath my coat.
Ethan carried no visible weapon.
At midnight, Warehouse C opened.
Light spilled across cracked pavement.
Leonard Vale stood inside.
He was seventy-two, thin, silver-haired, and very much alive.
Allison sat behind him in a chair.
Untied.
Uninjured.
Angry.
The second she saw me, she stood.
“I’m sorry.”
I almost laughed from relief.
“You’re going to be very sorry when this is over.”
Vale raised his hands.
“I never harmed her.”
“You fired a gun.”
“Into a tire.”
Allison rolled her eyes.
“He wanted you to think I was in danger.”
“You kidnapped her.”
“She followed me into my vehicle.”
“I made a mistake,” Allison admitted.
Ethan stepped forward.
“Where is Reeves?”
Vale’s expression changed.
“Closer than you think.”
“You said he killed my father.”
“I said ask him.”
“Then tell me where he is.”
Vale looked toward a rusted staircase.
A man emerged.
Senator Malcolm Reeves.
No security.
No congressional staff.
No charming television smile.
Just an old man with rage in his eyes.
“You should have left the ledger buried,” Reeves said.
I stared at him.
“You threatened my son.”
“Yes.”
Ethan moved.
I grabbed his arm.
Reeves smiled.
“You billionaire boys are so predictable. Threaten your bloodline and you become animals.”
Ethan’s voice was almost inaudible.
“Say my son’s name again.”
Vale stepped between them.
“We came here for truth.”
Reeves laughed.
“You came here because you think truth matters.”
“It matters to juries,” I said.
His eyes shifted to me.
“Your father used to say that.”
“You corrupted him.”
“No. Robert corrupted himself.”
That hurt because it was true.
Reeves walked slowly through the warehouse.
“Your father wanted influence. Vale wanted money. Charles Cross wanted expansion. Thomas Mercer wanted loyalty. Everyone wanted something.”
Ethan’s fists tightened.
“And you?”
“I wanted control.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“I am seventy-eight years old, Ethan. Honesty becomes inexpensive when you have outlived most of your enemies.”
“You murdered Charles.”
Reeves stopped.
“No.”
Vale looked sharply toward him.
Reeves smiled.
“Charles murdered himself.”
Ethan lunged.
Marcus’s agents remained hidden.
I caught Ethan again.
“Explain,” I demanded.
Reeves pointed toward the charred rafters.
“Charles discovered Harbor Crown had infiltrated his company. Instead of going quietly to authorities, he decided to create a trap.”
Vale’s face tightened.
“He scheduled a secret records transfer here.”
“Yes.”
“With prosecutors.”
“No.”
Vale stared.
Reeves continued.
“With journalists.”
I felt cold.
“Then who started the fire?”
Reeves smiled.
“Thomas Mercer.”
Vale went pale.
“My father?”
“He discovered Charles had secretly copied Harbor Crown files. Thomas believed those files would expose his own family’s role.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Your father survived because he set the first charge.”
Vale staggered backward.
“No.”
Ethan’s expression shifted from fury to horror.
Reeves enjoyed every second.
“Thomas intended to destroy the documents after everyone left. The timer malfunctioned.”
“Sixteen people died.”
“Accidents happen.”
Vale attacked him.
The old men crashed against a table.
That was when gunfire erupted outside.
Not from federal agents.
Bullets shattered warehouse windows.
“Down!” Ethan shouted.
He pulled me behind a concrete pillar.
Agents stormed from cover.
Marcus’s voice exploded over the radio.
“Third party! Multiple shooters!”
Vale dragged Allison behind machinery.
Reeves disappeared.
“Where is he?” I yelled.
A rear door slammed.
Ethan ran.
I followed.
“Meredith!”
We reached the pier.
A black speedboat pulled away.
Reeves stood aboard it.
Beside him was Bradford Wellington.
Bradford raised a pistol.
“Allison ruined everything!” he screamed.
He fired.
Ethan shoved me down.
The bullet struck steel inches above my head.
Federal agents returned fire toward the engine.
The boat accelerated.
Then a second vessel appeared from darkness.
Coast Guard.
Spotlights flooded the water.
“Cut your engine!”
Bradford panicked.
He turned sharply.
Too sharply.
The speedboat struck a submerged piling.
The hull lifted.
Reeves fell.
Bradford dropped the gun.
Agents surrounded the crippled vessel within seconds.
I stood slowly.
Ethan grabbed my shoulders.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
He checked anyway.
Only after he was certain did he pull me against his chest.
Behind us, Allison emerged shaking.
Vale walked beside her like a man who had aged twenty years in ten minutes.
Then Marcus approached.
“We have Reeves.”
I exhaled.
“And Bradford?”
“Alive.”
“It’s over.”
Marcus didn’t answer.
I looked at him.
“What?”
He held up his phone.
“The ledger from Boston.”
May you like
“Yes?”
“It’s gone.”
