Chapter 6 - The Siege of Newport
The storm howled outside as the first sound of gunfire shattered the heavy silence of the Mercer estate.
High-caliber rounds tore through the thick oak double doors at the front entrance, sending splinters flying across the marble foyer. Julian Harrington marched into the grand entryway surrounded by eight heavily armed mercenaries dressed in tactical gear, rain dripping from their black nylon vests.
"Dominic!" Julian shouted, his voice echoing up the cavernous central staircase. "Come down here and sign the asset release, or we burn this place to the ground with your sister and nephew inside!"
From the upper landing, Dominic appeared alone. He leaned against the carved balustrade, looking down at Julian with cold amusement.
"You always were noisy, Julian," Dominic said, his voice cutting through the patter of rain leaking through the shattered entryway. "Even at the charity galas, you never knew when to keep your mouth shut."
Julian pointed a customized Glock at Dominic. "It's over, Mercer. Your security team at the gate is disarmed. Qorri's men control the perimeter. You give me the digital keys to the Mercer offshore accounts, and Brooke walks away with the east cottage title. You can keep this old museum."
Brooke stepped out into the second-floor gallery, standing a few yards behind Dominic. "Give him the codes, Dominic! It’s the only way you walk out of this alive!"
Dominic didn't look back at her. "Tell me, Julian. Did you check who was driving the fuel tankers parked across your private logistics depot in Fall River twenty minutes ago?"
Julian’s sneer faltered. "What are you talking about?"
Dominic pulled his phone from his pocket, touched the screen, and turned it toward Julian.
On the live video feed, three large commercial freight warehouses bearing the Harrington Logistics logo were surrounded by tactical police units, federal customs agents, and several unmarked black sedans. Men in tactical gear were leading Julian’s top lieutenants out in handcuffs, while federal agents seized crates of unregistered arms and contraband.
"You thought Besnik Qorri was your partner?" Dominic asked quietly. "Qorri sold you out to me last night in London for five million dollars and a safe shipping corridor through Montreal. You aren't a player, Julian. You're bait."
Julian’s eyes widened in sheer panic. "Shoot him!" he screamed at the mercenaries around him. "Shoot him now!"
None of the men moved.
The lead mercenary slowly lowered his rifle, reached up, and unclipped his radio. He looked up at Dominic and gave a respectful nod. "Perimeter is secure, Mr. Mercer. Federal marshals have just crossed the lower bridge to collect the Harrington transport vehicles."
Julian spun around, staring at his own hired guns in absolute horror. "I paid you! I paid you three hundred thousand dollars!"
"You paid them with money wired from an account that was frozen at four this morning," Silas said, stepping out from the shadows of the lower corridor with a dozen Mercer family loyalists, all armed and trained on Julian’s chest. "Mr. Mercer paid them in gold twenty-four hours ago."
Brooke let out a strangled shriek from the balcony, turning to run back toward the west wing.
She sprinted down the long hallway, her high heels skidding on the polished floorboards. Her only thought was the private helipad at the rear of the estate. If she could reach the coast road, she had cash stashed in a safety deposit box in Providence.
She burst through the rear glass doors leading onto the covered veranda, the cold rain instantly soaking her silk blouse.
May you like
Standing on the wet terrace, blocking the path to the gardens, was Emma Collins.
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