Chapter 6 - THE NIGHT PIER NINE BECAME A WAR ZONE
Roman wanted Claire moved to a secure apartment.
Claire refused.
Roman wanted Higgins Freight closed for forty-eight hours.
Claire refused that too.
Finally he said:
“Do you reject every sensible idea as a hobby?”
Claire stared.
“Do you issue orders to everybody you worry about?”
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
They compromised.
Higgins Freight remained open with increased security.
Claire returned to Pier Nine the next morning.
One hundred eighty-three employees had spent four days hearing rumors.
Bankruptcy.
Calder takeover.
Patrick hospitalized.
Patrick missing.
Bellhaven.
Nobody knew what was true.
Claire stood on a wooden pallet inside the main warehouse.
Roman stayed near the back.
She told him not to speak.
He actually listened.
“Everyone.”
The loading floor quieted.
Drivers.
Dispatchers.
Forklift operators.
Office staff.
People Claire had known most of her life.
She swallowed.
“My father is not in the hospital.”
Confusion.
Murmurs.
“He left the country Monday night.”
Louder reaction.
Claire continued.
“He also hid substantial debt from me, from most of management, and from all of you.”
Silence.
“I’m not going to lie to protect the Higgins name.”
An older driver named Eddie lowered his cap.
Claire’s voice strengthened.
“Patrick Higgins made decisions that endangered this company.”
Pain crossed faces.
Some angry.
Some devastated.
“He also became involved with lenders who intended to take our port access and use this company for operations none of us would have accepted.”
A woman near dispatch shouted:
“Drugs?”
Claire hesitated.
“Yes.”
The warehouse erupted.
She raised one hand.
“Calder Maritime purchased enough of our debt to prevent that transfer.”
Everyone looked toward Roman.
He remained still.
Claire continued:
“That does not mean Roman Calder owns our loyalty.”
Roman’s eyebrow lifted.
Good.
“He owns debt and secured assets.”
A few nervous laughs.
“I intend to make sure that changes.”
Now Roman almost smiled.
Claire looked across her people.
“We are still operating.”
Applause began.
Small.
Then louder.
“But every invoice, manifest, contract, and account is being reviewed. If you know something, tell me. If someone asked you to change records, tell me. If Walter Higgins contacted you privately, tell me.”
A man near the loading bay raised his hand.
Claire frowned.
“Tom?”
Tom Alvarez had supervised nights for sixteen years.
“Walter told us to move three containers off-site Sunday.”
Roman stepped forward despite orders.
Claire gave him a look.
He stopped.
“Where?”
she asked.
“Warehouse C.”
“That building is empty.”
“Supposed to be.”
Claire’s skin tightened.
Warehouse C sat at the far edge of Pier Nine.
Old.
Mostly used for surplus equipment.
She turned toward Roman.
He was already speaking into his phone.
Dante moved.
Claire followed.
Roman caught up.
“You stay here.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“My warehouse.”
“Possible contraband.”
“My problem.”
“Potential armed men.”
“Your problem?”
“Yes.”
“Then congratulations, we both have one.”
Dante almost smiled.
They approached Warehouse C with security.
Police and federal port investigators were called before anyone entered.
Claire insisted.
Roman did not argue.
Inside were three containers.
Fake Higgins seals.
Exactly as the files showed.
Investigators opened the first.
Boxes of imported electronics.
Apparently ordinary.
Then false walls.
Cash.
Vacuum-sealed bundles.
Millions.
Second container.
Controlled pharmaceutical chemicals.
Third.
Weapons components.
Claire felt physically ill.
Her great-grandfather’s name appeared on the paperwork.
HIGGINS HARBOR FREIGHT.
Roman stood beside her.
“This is why Bellamy needed Pier Nine.”
Claire stared at the logo.
“He already started.”
“Walter gave him access before the default.”
“Yes.”
“Dad didn’t know.”
“I don’t know.”
She looked sharply.
Roman refused to give comfort where evidence didn’t support it.
Part of her hated that.
Part increasingly trusted it.
Investigators began photographing.
Then Dante’s voice shouted:
“DOWN!”
Roman hit Claire before the sound registered.
Gunfire tore through the warehouse windows.
Glass exploded.
Workers screamed outside.
Roman covered Claire behind a steel crate.
Dante fired toward an upper walkway.
Security returned fire.
Claire’s heart slammed against her ribs.
Roman’s body shielded hers.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
“Stay down.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
Another burst.
Then smoke.
Someone had thrown something through a side door.
Not a grenade.
Incendiary.
Flames climbed packaging material.
“They’re burning the evidence!” Claire shouted.
Roman grabbed her.
“Out.”
“Employees!”
“Dante handles—”
“Tom was outside!”
She twisted free.
Roman swore.
Claire ran toward the loading floor.
Smoke thickened.
Alarms screamed.
Workers were moving out through the west bay.
Then Claire heard:
“Help!”
Office mezzanine.
Nora—the payroll clerk—was trapped behind a fallen shelf.
Claire ran.
Roman followed, furious.
Together they lifted enough metal for Nora to crawl free.
Then a beam cracked overhead.
Roman shoved Claire forward.
Something struck him.
He went down.
“Roman!”
Her heart stopped.
He was conscious.
Blood at his temple.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
She got beneath his arm.
“You are extremely heavy.”
“Excellent time for criticism.”
They stumbled toward the exit.
Dante appeared through smoke.
Took Roman’s other side.
Outside, emergency crews swarmed.
Two attackers were arrested near the water.
One escaped.
The evidence inside the containers had already been documented.
Bellamy’s attempt to destroy it failed.
But Roman was bleeding.
Claire sat beside him while a paramedic examined his head.
“You’re staring.”
She glared.
“You got hit by a beam.”
“Yes.”
“Because you followed me.”
“Yes.”
“I told you—”
“To stay out of your warehouse.”
He smiled faintly.
“I’m terrible with instructions.”
The paramedic said:
“He needs stitches.”
Claire’s hands were shaking.
Roman noticed.
“I’m fine.”
She snapped:
“Don’t tell me how to feel.”
He went silent.
Good.
Then Dante approached.
“Boss.”
Roman looked.
“What?”
“One shooter talked.”
“Already?”
“He was more afraid of an arson charge than his employer.”
Claire stood.
“Who sent them?”
Dante looked at her.
“Walter.”
Everything inside Claire went cold.
Amy had stayed at the main office.
Claire’s first thought was her.
“No.”
Dante continued:
“The shooter says instructions came from a Higgins Freight executive account.”
Walter’s.
Roman’s face hardened.
Then Claire said:
“Could be spoofed.”
Dante nodded.
“Yes.”
Roman looked almost proud.
Evidence first.
They checked.
The order email originated from Walter’s credentials.
But login location?
New York.
Walter was in Miami.
Someone was using his account.
Claire thought instantly.
“Bellamy.”
“Or someone here,” Roman said.
The list of people with administrative access was small.
Patrick.
Walter.
Claire.
IT director.
And—
Claire stopped.
“Amy.”
Roman looked at her.
“What?”
“Amy has emergency family access because she handled Dad’s estate planning.”
Claire’s phone rang.
Amy.
She answered.
Only breathing.
“Amy?”
A whisper:
“Claire.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I found Dad.”
Claire froze.
Roman stood despite the paramedic.
“What?”
Claire put it on speaker.
Amy continued:
“Not Patrick.”
“My dad.”
Walter.
Claire’s stomach twisted.
“Where?”
“In my apartment.”
“What?”
“He came back.”
Roman signaled Dante.
Amy whispered:
“He’s hurt.”
Then another voice sounded behind her.
Male.
Calm.
“Hello, Claire.”
Roman’s face became lethal.
Victor Bellamy.
Claire stopped breathing.
Victor continued:
“I told you I wanted the evidence.”
Amy cried softly.
Victor said:
“Bring me everything Patrick hid.”
Claire’s voice shook with rage.
“And my father?”
Victor laughed.
“Patrick is still alive.”
Roman took the phone.
“Victor.”
“Roman.”
“If Amy is harmed—”
“More threats.”
“No.”
Roman’s voice became terrifyingly quiet.
“A promise.”
Victor sighed.
“Midnight. Pier Fourteen.”
Claire looked at Roman.
Pier Fourteen belonged to Calder Maritime.
Victor continued:
“Claire comes with the drive.”
“No.”
Claire said it before Roman could.
Everyone looked.
Victor laughed.
“I knew I liked you.”
Claire’s face hardened.
“You want the evidence?”
“Yes.”
“Then you talk to me.”
Roman started to object.
Claire raised one hand.
“Midnight.”
Then she ended the call.
Roman stared.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“You don’t like being ignored either.”
“This is not amusing.”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“Amy is there.”
“I know.”
“My uncle is there.”
“Walter created half this disaster.”
“He is still family.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“And Patrick?”
“My father.”
Silence.
Claire stepped closer.
“You made my mother a promise.”
Something changed in Roman’s face.
“Yes.”
“Then don’t protect me by taking away my choice.”
That landed.
He looked at her for several seconds.
Then:
“Fine.”
Claire exhaled.
“But you do exactly what I tell you once we arrive.”
May you like
She almost laughed.
“One lesson at a time.”
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