Chapter 6 - Shadows In The Rain
Hannah spread the manifests across the kitchen island, armed with three highlighters, a cup of strong black coffee, and a calculator. Matthew sat beside her at the counter, quietly coloring in an outline of the Brooklyn bridge she had drawn for him, content simply being in the same room.
By two in the afternoon, Hannah’s coffee had gone cold, but her eyes were burning with discovery.
""Victor!"" she called out.
Victor stroded into the kitchen, his tie loosened, a look of grim anticipation on his face. ""What did you find?""
""Anthony is sloppy,"" Hannah said, spinning the binder around and tapping a yellow-highlighted section with her pen. ""Look at the shipping container serial numbers on the federal affidavit. Container 409-B, arriving from Antwerp on the twelfth.""
Victor leaned over the counter, his broad shoulders brushing against hers. ""That was our agricultural grain shipment.""
""According to the manifest Anthony gave the feds, it contained five crates of unregistered military rifles,"" Hannah explained. ""Except Anthony forgot one detail. Look at the gross tare weight recorded at the port weighing station on arrival: twenty-four thousand pounds. Rifles and munitions in those crates would have pushed the tare weight over thirty-one thousand pounds.""
Victor’s eyes widened slightly as the forensic reality clicked.
""Anthony manufactured the bill of lading after the ship docked,"" Hannah continued, her voice gaining momentum. ""He used the electronic signature of a port supervisor who died three weeks ago. And look at the billing account that paid the secondary storage fee on Pier 14—it wasn't Davis Maritime. It was routed through an LLC registered in Delaware under Anthony’s mother’s maiden name.""
Marcus, standing behind them, let out a low whistle. ""She’s right, boss. The entire federal filing is based on a fabricated customs declaration.""
Victor looked from the papers to Hannah. A slow, predatory smile—the first real smile she had ever seen on his face—spread across his lips. ""You didn't just find a mistake, Hannah. You handed me the rope to hang him with.""
Suddenly, the kitchen lights flickered and died.
A dull thud echoed from the elevator vestibule outside, followed by the muffled crack of a suppressed firearm.
Marcus drew his weapon instantly, shouting into his radio: ""Code Black! Service stairs are compromised! All units to the primary suite!""
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Before Marcus could finish his sentence, the reinforced double doors of the penthouse burst open with a deafening splinter of wood. Three armed men in tactical gear flooded the foyer, their weapons raised.
Victor moved with terrifying, instantaneous speed. He grabbed Hannah and Matthew by their collars, shoving them behind the solid granite counter of the kitchen island just as a hail of bullets shattered the hanging copper pans above their heads.
