I sat in the passenger seat. The iron key was heavy in my pocket. “Where is the safe house?” I asked. “Under the old boathouse.” Ernest said. “On the edge of the property.” “We kept it stocked.” “Just in case.” We pulled into the long driveway of our main estate. The house was dark. The police tape was still fluttering in the wind. But the grounds were empty.
Ernest drove around to the back. We parked near the lake. The old boathouse was rotting. The wood was gray and peeling. Ernest led me inside. The smell of lake water and mildew was overwhelming. He walked to the back wall. He pushed aside a stack of old canvas tarps. He revealed a heavy steel door. He pulled out a keypad. He typed in a code. The door hissed open. Inside, it was a small armory.
Racks of firearms.
Boxes of ammunition.
Cash.
Passports.
It was a doomsday stash.
I stared at it.
“You really were a criminal.”
I whispered.
“I was a survivor.”
He said.
He handed me a small, compact pistol.
“Do you remember how to use this?”
He asked.
I took the gun.
It felt heavy.
Cold.
“I remember.”
I said.
“You taught me.”
He nodded.
He loaded a larger revolver and tucked it into his waistband.
He grabbed two spare magazines.
“We need to call Charles.”
I said.
“We need backup.”
“No.”
Ernest said.
“Victor said alone.”
“If we bring Charles, Victor will execute Hunter on the spot.”
“Victor is a man of his word.”
“He is a monster, but he has rules.”
“Then what is the plan?”
I asked.
“We walk in.”
Ernest said.
“We give him the key.”
“The key opens a vault in Switzerland.”
“It has fifty million dollars.”
“It’s the last of the dirty money.”
“We give it to him.”
“And then we shoot him.”
I stared at him.
“You want to execute him?”
“I want to end the threat.”
He said.
“He will never stop, Terry.”
“If we let him live, he will come back.”
“He will kill us in our sleep.”
“He has to die.”
The coldness in his voice chilled me.
But I knew he was right.
Victor was a disease.
And you don’t negotiate with a disease.
You cure it.
“Okay.”
I said.
“We do it your way.”
We walked out of the boathouse.
We got back into the car.
The old shipyard was on the other side of the city.
It was an abandoned industrial zone.
A perfect place for a murder.
As we drove, my phone buzzed.
It was a text from Charles.
“Mom, where are you?”
“Hunter didn’t come back to the center.”
“His bed is empty.”
“His door was forced open.”
My heart broke.
I looked at Ernest.
“We have to hurry.”
I said.
Ernest pressed his foot harder on the gas.
The engine roared.
We sped into the darkness.
Toward the end of everything.
PART-14
The shipyard was a graveyard of rusted metal.
Massive cranes towered into the night sky.
Like skeletal fingers reaching for the clouds.
Shipping containers were stacked like maze walls.
The rain was falling in sheets.
Ernest parked the car behind a stack of crates.
He turned off the engine.
The silence was deafening.
Except for the rain.
And the distant sound of waves slapping against the concrete.
“We walk from here.”
Ernest whispered.
We stepped out into the storm.
The mud sucked at our shoes.
We moved through the maze of containers.
My heart was pounding.
The pistol felt like a brick in my coat pocket.
Finally, we reached the center of the yard.
An old cargo ship was docked.
Its hull was rusted and barnacled.
The deck was lit by a single, harsh halogen work light.
Standing under the light was Victor.
He was an old man.
But he was built like a brick wall.
His face was a map of scars.
His eyes were dead.
And sitting in a chair in front of him, tied with rope, was Hunter.
Hunter’s face was bruised.
His lip was split.
But he was alive.
Victor held a shotgun.
The barrel was resting casually against Hunter’s chest.
Ernest stepped into the light.
I stayed in the shadows.
Just as we planned.
“Victor.”
Ernest said.
His voice was steady.
Victor looked up.
A cruel smile spread across his face.
“Ernest.”
Victor rasped.
“You look old.”
“Time comes for us all, Victor.”
Ernest said.
“Not for you.”
Victor spat.
“You stole my life.”
“You stole my son.”
“I brought the money.”
Ernest said.
He pulled the iron key from his pocket.
He held it up.
“Fifty million.”
“Untraceable.”
“It’s yours.”
Victor stared at the key.
His eyes gleamed with greed.
But he didn’t lower the shotgun.
“You think I care about the money?”
Victor asked.
“I want your soul, Ernest.”
“I want you to feel the pain I felt.”
“I want you to watch your family die.”
“That’s why I brought her.”
Victor pointed the shotgun at me.
I stepped out of the shadows.
Victor laughed.
A horrible, barking sound.
“The loyal wife.”
He sneered.
“You brought her to die with you.”
“I brought her to watch you die.”
Ernest said.
His voice was like ice.
Ernest drew his revolver.
He aimed it directly at Victor’s head.
“Drop the shotgun.”
Ernest ordered.
Victor didn’t flinch.
He kept the shotgun aimed at Hunter.
“You shoot me, my finger twitches.”
Victor said.
“And the boy’s chest explodes.”
“Let the boy go, Victor.”
I yelled.
“This is between us!”
“Shut up, bitch!”
Victor roared.
He swung the shotgun toward me.
In that split second, Ernest fired.
The gunshot was deafening.
Victor’s shoulder exploded in a spray of blood.
The shotgun went off.
The buckshot tore through the wooden chair.
Hunter screamed.
But he was alive.
Victor dropped the shotgun.
He fell to his knees.
He clutched his bleeding shoulder.
He looked up at Ernest.
His eyes were full of hate.
“You missed.”
Victor spat.
“I never miss.”
Ernest said.
He walked forward.
He kept the gun aimed at Victor’s head.
“It’s over, Victor.”
“It’s over.”
Victor laughed.
Blood bubbled on his lips.
“It’s never over.”
He whispered.
Suddenly, a massive crash echoed through the yard.
A shipping container door swung open.
Three men stepped out.
They were holding assault rifles.
Victor’s men.
Ernest froze.
He was surrounded.
I raised my pistol.
My hands were shaking.
But I aimed it at the first man.
“Drop it!”
I screamed.
The men laughed.
They raised their rifles.
We were dead.
