Chapter 8 - The Harbor Depot
The unmarked NCIS SUV tore through the quiet downtown streets, our siren wailing as we cut through the midnight fog.
Nathan sat in the passenger seat, monitoring the tactical frequency while I drove with absolute, icy precision.
Behind us, two tactical transport vans followed closely, their headlights cutting through the heavy mist rolling off the ocean.
We pulled up to the rusted iron gates of Drydock Four within minutes.
The massive, corrugated metal warehouse stood silent and imposing against the dark backdrop of the black ocean waves.
Agent Vance’s vehicle pulled up beside us, and his team quickly disembarked, taking up tactical positions around the perimeter.
“No thermal signatures inside the main bay,” Vance reported, checking his handheld scanner.
“However, there is a heavy concentration of heat coming from the underground maintenance sub-level.”
“That’s where the drydock pumps are housed,” I noted, unlatching my seatbelt.
“And that’s where the recovery pods are stored.”
We stepped out of the vehicle into the damp, salty night air.
The distant sound of waves crashing against the concrete seawall echoed through the dark docks.
Nathan led the advance, motioning for two NCIS agents to follow him as we approached the side access door.
The heavy steel door was unlocked, pushed slightly ajar by a couple of inches.
Nathan pushed it open with the barrel of his weapon, sliding silently into the dark interior.
I followed right behind him, my hand resting on my own service pistol.
The interior of the warehouse smelled of stagnant water, diesel fuel, and old rust.
We descended a set of grated metal stairs that led down into the underground sub-level.
A faint, blue LED glow emanated from the center of the vast concrete chamber below.
As we reached the bottom of the stairs, the scene came into sharp, horrifying focus.
In the center of the room sat a massive, military-grade titanium transport crate—the exact black box from the video feed.
And standing beside it, typing rapidly on a tactical laptop, was a man in a civilian trench coat.
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He turned around slowly as our boots crunched against the concrete floor.
It was Admiral Thomas Vance—no relation to the NCIS agent—my direct superior officer from the Pentagon.
