Chapter 5 - The Ambush at Queens Foundry
The rain had turned into a torrential downpour by the time my armored motorcade pulled up to the rusted iron gates of the Newtown Creek foundry.
Rusted sheet metal rattled against the storm, and the sulfurous stench of industrial waste hung thick in the air. High above the courtyard, through the cracked glass panes of the abandoned smelting facility, I could spot the faint green luminescence of infrared sniper scopes tracking my vehicle.
""They have four marksmen on the high catwalks,"" Marcus, my secondary lieutenant, reported from the front seat, checking his digital tablet. ""Thermal signatures show at least twelve men waiting inside the main furnace floor. Falcone's personal limousine is parked near the rear loading dock.""
""Good,"" I said, adjusting the lapels of my coat. ""Vincent, are you in position?""
The encrypted earpiece in my ear crackled with static before Vincent's deep voice came through: ""Perimeter secured at Bear Mountain. We have thermal eyes inside the cabin. Arthur is sitting in an armchair in the main room. Three hostiles in the room, five on patrol outside. Waiting on your mark.""
""Hold until I draw Falcone's attention,"" I ordered. ""Do not let Arthur get caught in crossfire.""
I stepped out of the car alone into the pouring rain. The icy water soaked through my hair and ran down my neck, sending shocks of freezing adrenaline through my veins. I walked with deliberate, steady strides across the flooded gravel courtyard, my hands visible at my sides, every step sending agonizing jolts through my stitched ribcage.
The heavy steel doors of the foundry groaned open.
Standing inside, illuminated by the orange glow of industrial work lamps, stood Richard Sterling and an older man leaning heavily on a carved ivory cane: Don Carmine Falcone.
Falcone was seventy years old, with slicked-back silver hair, cold reptilian eyes, and a cruel smirk that had haunted my childhood nightmares. He was the man who had stood in our living room and watched his soldiers shoot my mother while she begged for my sister's life.
""Look at you,"" Falcone sneered, his voice wheezing with age and malice. ""Little Bucky Moretti. The ghost of Brooklyn. You actually grew up. You built an empire, stole half my territory, and you threw it all away for an old farmer and a pathetic little doctor.""
Sterling stood beside him, clutching an umbrella, a smug, arrogant grin plastered across his face. ""You shouldn't have interfered with my hospital, Dante. You were out of your depth.""
I stopped ten paces away from them, water dripping from the brim of my coat. ""Where is the transfer paperwork, Carmine? You wanted the shipping docks. I have the signed deeds in my pocket.""
""Oh, I'll take the docks, boy,"" Falcone chuckled, signaling with his cane. From the shadows behind the rusted machinery, ten men stepped forward, racking the slides of automatic submachine guns. ""But you're not walking out of here. And neither is that little bitch Clara. As soon as I watch you bleed to death on this concrete, my boys in the mountains are going to put two bullets in the old man's head and drop the girl off a bridge.""
I didn't flinch. I slowly tilted my head back, looking directly into the camera of the security monitor mounted on the rusted wall above them.
""Vincent,"" I whispered into my collar microphone. ""Execute.""
Through my earpiece, the storm erupted into a flurry of silenced pops, followed by the crunch of shattering glass and the unmistakable sound of flashbang grenades detonating hundreds of miles away in Bear Mountain.
Falcone's satellite radio suddenly chirped loudly on his hip. A frantic voice screamed through the receiver: ""Boss! We're under attack! They're wiping us out—they breached the lake side—""
The line went dead with a wet thud.
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Falcone's smug smile vanished, his face draining of color. ""What did you do?""
""I didn't come here to negotiate, Carmine,"" I said, my voice dropping to a terrifying, hollow whisper as I drew both pistols from beneath my coat. ""I came here to collect a debt that's fifteen years overdue.""
