Chapter 5 - The Trail of Blood
By dawn, the docks of Baltimore were locked down tighter than a federal prison.
None of the regular cargo ships moved. None of the union cranes lifted a single container. Every warehouse, bar, and shipping office from Fells Point to the Francis Scott Key Bridge was being scoured by hundreds of armed men loyal to Roman Calder. They weren't looking for contraband; they were looking for a black utility van.
Roman sat in the back of his armored SUV, his laptop screen reflecting the glow of dozens of pirated traffic camera feeds. His face was carved from granite, devoid of any emotion except for a cold, burning focus that terrified the lieutenants sitting up front.
“Boss,” Victor Vance said, turning around from the passenger seat. “We found the van. It was dumped near the old Curtis Bay rail yards. Burned out. But one of our scouts found a discarded cigarette butt half a mile away, near the abandoned fishpacking warehouses.”
Roman looked up. “Evelyn Sterling?”
“Has to be. Her family’s logistics firm owns those piers. The police won’t go near them without a federal warrant, and Arthur Sterling has three judges in his pocket.”
“I don’t need a warrant,” Roman said softly. He reached into his coat holster, checking the magazine of his Sig Sauer P226 with a smooth, mechanical click. “I need a clearing.”
“Roman, if you storm their pier openly, it’s an act of war. The commission will—'”
“Let them try,” Roman interrupted, his voice dropping an octave into a chilling, lethal command. “Tell the boys to cut the power to the entire harbor sector. No lights, no communications, no escape routes. We go in through the water side.”
Within twenty minutes, three unmarked speedboats sliced silently through the freezing, pre-dawn chop of the Chesapeake Bay, carrying twelve of Roman’s most elite operators.
Roman stood at the bow of the lead boat, the wind whipping his dark coat around his legs, his eyes fixed on the crumbling concrete pier looming ahead in the fog.
For seven years, he had kept everyone at a distance. He had built an empire of concrete and steel to ensure that no one could ever get close enough to hurt him the way his mother had been hurt. He had treated Nora Hayes like background noise, a necessary convenience in a lonely house.
And now, someone had dared to pull her out of his world.
May you like
As the boat scraped silently against the rotting wooden pilings of the pier, Roman leaped ashore, his boots hitting the damp wood with a dull thud.
The war for Baltimore had officially begun.
