Chapter 7 - The Long Drive to Long Island City
Saturday night arrived wrapped in a thick, rolling sea fog that swallowed the streetlights and cast long, ghostly shadows across the deserted industrial avenues of Long Island City.
My black armored Mercedes crept through the rusted iron gates of the abandoned rail yard, its headlights cutting amber tunnels through the dense mist. In the passenger seat beside me sat Maria, wearing a dark wool coat, her fingers tightly gripping a encrypted burner phone. In the back seat sat three of my most trusted enforcers, their weapons secured and ready.
"We're five minutes out from the designated warehouse," I said, keeping my eyes fixed on the cracked asphalt ahead. "Remember the plan. You stay in the vehicle with the doors locked. I go in alone to meet Vincent. Once he confirms the transfer, my men secure the perimeter, and we bring him out."
"I know the plan, Daniel," Maria said, her voice steady, though her knuckles were white against her coat fabric.
We pulled up beside a skeletal brick warehouse whose roof had collapsed decades ago. Rusted train tracks snaked through the overgrown weeds like giant black veins in the pale fog.
I cut the engine. The silence inside the car was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the cooling metal hood.
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"Wait here," I instructed, opening my door and stepping out into the damp, biting night air.
The chill immediately bit through my suit jacket, but I ignored it, drawing my sidearm from its holster with a smooth, practiced motion and checking the chamber before sliding it back into place. I walked toward the gaping, doorless entrance of the warehouse, my boots crunching softly on broken glass and gravel.
