Chapter 17 - The Strike at Pier Seventeen
By six the next morning, Pier Seventeen was surrounded by angry dockworkers.
Signs filled the entrance.
CARUSO PROFITS, WORKERS BLEED.
NO CONTRACT, NO CARGO.
Elena stepped from the sedan before Adrian’s security detail could form around her.
“Absolutely not,” Adrian muttered.
She kept walking.
Hundreds of workers turned.
Some recognized her.
Others shouted.
Randall Pike stood atop a loading platform holding a megaphone.
“There she is! The billionaire princess!”
The crowd roared.
Elena climbed onto the platform.
Adrian looked ready to murder someone.
Randall sneered.
“You got something to say, Donna?”
Elena took the megaphone.
“Yes.”
She tossed it over the railing.
It hit the pavement.
The workers went quiet.
“I spent seven years carrying plates for people who snapped their fingers at me,” she shouted without amplification. “So if anybody here thinks I need a microphone to talk to working people, you haven’t met me.”
A few men laughed.
Randall’s smile weakened.
Elena held up paperwork.
“Six weeks ago, your elected committee signed a pension improvement, overtime guarantee, and safety package with me.”
“Which your company canceled!” someone yelled.
“No.”
Elena pointed toward Randall.
“He told you I canceled it.”
Murmurs spread.
Randall stepped forward.
“Don’t blame me for your corporate games.”
Elena produced a bank transfer.
“Two hundred fifty thousand dollars entered your Cayman-linked account yesterday.”
Randall’s face drained.
“Fake.”
“Maybe.”
She smiled.
“That’s why the FBI agents behind you would like to discuss it.”
Three vehicles rolled forward.
Workers moved aside.
Randall ran.
He made twelve feet before Sal tackled him into a stack of empty pallets.
Cheers erupted.
Elena raised her hand.
“Go home if you want. Strike if you want. That is your legal right. But do it because you choose it—not because someone bought the man holding your megaphone.”
An older crane operator stepped forward.
“My pension safe?”
“Yes.”
“Overtime?”
“Yes.”
“Then I got containers waiting.”
One by one, workers crossed the line.
Within twenty minutes, cranes moved again.
Adrian joined Elena.
“You enjoy dangerous crowds too much.”
“I understand angry workers better than angry bankers.”
Dominic hurried over.
“We found what Pike was promised.”
“A job?”
“Protection.”
He showed them a message recovered from Pike’s phone.
SHUT DOWN PIER 17 FOR 48 HOURS. STRUCTURAL INSPECTION TEAM ARRIVES 2 A.M. WEDNESDAY.
Elena frowned.
“What inspection team?”
“There isn’t one.”
Adrian understood first.
“Vittorio’s people.”
“They planned to enter during the shutdown,” Dominic said. “Search for Antonio’s archive.”
Elena looked toward the massive warehouses.
The pier was enormous.
Miles of utility channels, forgotten basements, drainage systems.
“Falcon sees the river,” she murmured.
A memory surfaced.
Her father’s signet.
The crowned falcon stood on an olive branch.
Its eye faced left.
Toward water.
She entered the oldest warehouse.
High on the western wall, nearly hidden behind steel shelving, was an antique Caruso crest.
The falcon faced the Hudson.
Elena followed its line of sight.
Straight toward an old freight elevator.
“That elevator has been dead since 2004,” the foreman said.
“Open it.”
Workers forced the doors apart.
There was no elevator car.
Only darkness.
A narrow ladder descended below pier level.
Adrian looked at Elena.
“You’re staying up here.”
She grabbed the ladder.
“Keep dreaming.”
Thirty feet below, they found a steel door.
In its center was a gold-colored slot shaped exactly like the Caruso signet ring.
Elena slowly removed the ring.
“Antonio,” Dominic whispered. “You paranoid genius.”
She pressed the falcon into the lock.
Ancient gears turned.
The door opened.
Inside, rows of servers sat beneath dust covers.
Hard drives.
Ledgers.
Microfilm.
Thirty years of secrets.
And directly in the center of the room rested a red folder labeled:
VITTORIO DE LUCA — AURELIA.
Elena reached toward it.
A bomb timer illuminated beneath the desk.
00:04:59.
Adrian grabbed her arm.
“Everybody out!”
May you like
Someone already knew they had found the archive.
And someone intended to bury it with them.
