Chapter 5 - The Appraisal
The fog had rolled in thick off the East River by the time they reached Pier 44. The shipyard was a graveyard of rusted shipping containers and towering, silent cranes. The air tasted of salt and diesel fuel.
Vance and Elena walked in the shadows, their footsteps muted by the damp asphalt.
Julian, 'The Watchmaker,' was waiting under the pale yellow glow of a solitary streetlamp. He was an older man, leaning on a silver-tipped cane, wearing a tailored cashmere overcoat. Two massive bodyguards flanked him, their eyes scanning the fog.
"Vance," Julian said, his voice a smooth, cultured purr. "I thought you were dead. Rumor had it Silas buried you under a foundation in Queens."
"I've been on a long vacation, Julian," Vance replied, keeping his distance. "Do you have the funds?"
"Five million in untraceable bearer bonds, as requested," Julian patted a silver briefcase held by one of his guards. "But I must see the merchandise first."
Vance reached into his pocket and tossed a small velvet pouch to Julian. The older man caught it nimbly. He pulled out a jeweler's loupe, screwed it into his eye, and examined the three cut emeralds under the streetlamp.
Julian’s breath hitched. "Exquisite. Flawless color. The clarity is absurd. You always were the best, Vance. It's a shame you have to die tonight."
Vance’s instincts screamed. Before Julian even lowered the loupe, Vance drew his Glock.
But it was a trap.
From the shadows of the shipping containers, blinding tactical lights snapped on, cutting through the fog. The harsh beams pinned Vance and Elena in place. The distinctive clatter of automatic weapons being chambered echoed from a dozen different directions.
Julian smiled apologetically, stepping back behind his guards. "I'm sorry, Vance. But Silas offered me ten million just to tell him where you were. Business is business."
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A dark SUV rolled silently out of the fog, coming to a halt directly in front of them. The rear door opened, and Silas stepped out. He was dressed impeccably in a charcoal suit, his face a scarred mask of ruthless ambition.
"Well, well," Silas sneered, looking at Elena, then at Vance. "The runaway princess and the ghost of the diamond district. Bring them to my club. I want to know where the Verdean Eye is, and I have all night to carve the answer out of them."
