Chapter 4 - The Ticking Ledger
The shockwave slammed me against the concrete pillar, knocking the breath from my lungs.
Flames licked the low ceiling of the garage as the mercenaries cheered their apparent victory.
They thought the Mafia boss was dead, burning inside the metal wreckage of his own car.
I used the thick black smoke as cover and slipped through the chaotic garage.
I found an old maintenance truck parked near the service elevator.
The keys were still sitting on the dashboard.
I hotwired the ignition and sped out of the subterranean garage just as the police sirens began to wail in the distance.
The torrential Charleston rain hammered against the windshield as I drove toward the industrial docks.
The shipping yards were completely deserted at this hour, illuminated only by flickering amber security lights.
I parked the truck a block away and approached Warehouse 42 on foot.
The massive steel doors were rusted open just enough for me to slip inside.
The cavernous space smelled strongly of salt, rusted iron, and industrial acid.
In the center of the warehouse, a bright industrial spotlight illuminated a terrifying scene.
Emma was tied to a wooden chair, suspended precariously over a massive vat of boiling chemical solvent.
Victor Vance stood beside the release lever, smoking a premium cigar I had bought for him last Christmas.
"I knew you wouldn't die in that garage, Grant," Victor called out into the darkness.
"You always were too stubborn to burn."
I stepped into the light, my weapon leveled directly at his chest.
"Let the girl go, Victor," I ordered, my finger resting heavily on the trigger.
May you like
He laughed and slowly wrapped his hand around the rusted release lever.
"Drop the gun, Grant, or I drop the child."
