Chapter 9 - The Railyard Standoff
Midnight arrived under a torrential downpour. Lightning cracked across the industrial district, illuminating the rusting skeletons of abandoned freight trains.
Dante stepped out of his black truck alone, his boots splashing into oily puddles. Warehouse 4 was dimly lit by flickering halogen work lamps. As he walked through the sliding metal doors, the heavy steel snapped shut behind him.
Standing in the center of the vast hangar was Hector Vargas, flanked by a dozen heavily armed gunmen. Vargas was a gaunt, serpent-like man with slicked-back gray hair and a perpetual sneer.
“Dante Vance,” Vargas drawled, applauding slowly. “The legendary mob boss reduced to playing white knight for an accountant’s widow. Pathetic.”
“You talk too much, Hector,” Dante said, his hands resting easily in his jacket pockets. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Give me the safe-deposit key, and maybe I’ll let you walk out of here with your dignity,” Vargas sneered, stepping closer. “Mark stole forty million dollars of my operating funds. That ledger gives me access to every offshore reserve I own.”
“Mark didn’t steal from you,” Dante replied coolly. “He documented your crimes to protect his family. And tonight, those crimes end.”
Vargas laughed, a shrill, mocking sound. “You really think you’re walking out of here alive, Vance? Snipers, take him down!”
Nothing happened.
May you like
Vargas blinked, glancing toward the high rafters. “I said, take him down!”
A burst of static crackled over Vargas’s radio. Victor’s voice came through crystal clear: “All rafter perimeters secured, boss. You’re clear.”
