Chapter 11 - Dawn on the Iron Shore
Morning crept over the gray expanse of the river like a slow stain, replacing the black night with a pale, steely light that offered no warmth. I stood by the arched window of the lighthouse tower, holding a tin cup of cold water while the man in the black suit scanned the horizon through a pair of rusted marine binoculars we had found in the supply locker.
"They found the tug," he said suddenly, lowering the binoculars with a sharp snap. "Or what's left of it. It's grounded three miles south near Execution Rocks shoal, empty."
I stepped up beside him and looked out toward the shipping channel. A sleek, matte-black Coast Guard cutter was cutting a clean white wake through the choppy water, heading directly toward our island. On its foredeck, figures in tactical gear were already unlashing a rigid inflatable boat.
"They didn't waste any time," I said, my voice tight as I set the tin cup down on the wooden crate. "How long do we have before they clear the iron door downstairs?"
"Ten minutes, maybe fifteen if the rusted padlock holds them up," he replied, turning back to the center of the room. He knelt beside the leather briefcase, unfastening the heavy brass latches with a sharp, metallic click that echoed in the quiet tower. He lifted the lid, revealing neat stacks of gold bullion bars and heavy velvet pouches stuffed with uncut diamonds that gleamed dull and cold in the gray morning light. "This is what they want. Not us. The assets."
"If we give it to them, they'll bury us both in a federal black site before noon," I said, stepping over to him and looking down at the glittering wealth that had cost so many lives. "There's no negotiation with a syndicate that doesn't legally exist."
"Then we don't negotiate," he said, standing up and sliding the heavy leather briefcase across the floor toward the iron spiral staircase. "We use it as bait. We draw them into the tower, bottleneck them on the stairs, and take their transport."
"It's suicide," I whispered, though my hands were already reaching for the heavy iron fire iron leaning against the brick hearth.
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"It's the only play we have left," he answered, his eyes locking onto mine with fierce, unyielding resolve. "Are you with me?"
"From the moment I spoke the first word," I said, gripping the iron bar and moving toward the narrow stairwell door.
