Chapter 13 - THE DOCKLAND PURSUIT
The police cruiser sped through the industrial harbor district under a torrential downpour.
Shipping containers loomed like towering giants in the dark.
Ahead, they saw Vance's black coat running toward a sleek white yacht docked at Pier 9.
Sarah slammed the brakes, bringing the car to a sliding stop across the wet pavement.
Marcus unbuckled his belt and racked the slide of his firearm.
"Stay in the car, both of you," Marcus ordered strictly.
"Marcus, he has hired private security on that boat!" Sarah warned.
"I know," Marcus replied, stepping out into the storm.
He advanced through the shadows of the shipping crates, keeping his weapon raised.
Gunfire suddenly erupted from the deck of the yacht.
Bullets pinged off the metal containers, spraying sparks into the rain.
Marcus dove behind a wooden crate, returning fire with deliberate accuracy.
Two mercenaries on the upper deck fell, splashing into the dark ocean water below.
Vance was on the gangway, frantically shouting at the captain to cast off the lines.
"Untie the ropes! Move!" Vance screamed.
Marcus broke cover and sprinted onto the pier, shooting out the yacht’s engine intake valves.
Thick gray smoke poured from the vessel's stern as the engines sputtered and died.
"Vance!" Marcus shouted, advancing down the pier. "It's over!"
Vance turned around, holding a high-caliber revolver, his eyes wide with desperate madness.
"It will never be over!" Vance roared, firing wildly at Marcus.
Marcus felt a sharp, burning pain slice through his shoulder, throwing him to the ground.
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Vance raised his revolver, aiming directly at Marcus’s head at point-blank range.
"Goodbye, Officer," Vance sneered.
