Chapter 16
Julian did not negotiate with terrorists, and he certainly didn't negotiate with dead men walking.
He had Elara trace the origin of the burner phone Dante used to make the call.
It took her less than twenty minutes to pinpoint the signal bouncing off a cell tower near the East River.
"He's at an abandoned boathouse in Greenpoint," Elara confirmed, loading a fresh magazine into her pistol.
Julian opened his private armory, bypassing the standard weapons for a heavy-duty tactical loadout.
He wasn't going to send a crew to do this; this was deeply personal.
"We go in hard and we go in fast," Julian commanded. "No survivors."
Elara strapped a combat knife to her thigh and secured her Kevlar vest.
"I will take the perimeter and the roof," she said. "You take the main doors."
They drove to Brooklyn in complete silence, the tension in the armored SUV thick enough to cut with a knife.
Julian realized that he trusted this woman with his life, his empire, and his most loyal friend.
She was no longer his secretary; she was his equal.
They parked two blocks away from the boathouse, letting the freezing fog conceal their approach.
Dante had heavily fortified the exterior with motion sensors and tripwires, but Elara dismantled them silently in the dark.
May you like
She signaled to Julian, holding up three fingers.
Three seconds until all hell broke loose.
