Chapter 4 - THE ROTTERDAM TRAPThe port of Rotterdam was a industrial monster of steel, sea fog, and massive gantry cranes moving under the dim yellow glare of floodlights.
It was 4:00 AM, two days later.
The Duca Empress, a massive eight-hundred-foot container vessel flying the Duca Maritime flag, sat docked at Quay 42. Cold rain drizzled from the sky, slicking the steel decks and oil-stained docks.
Inside the high-security observation room of the port authority tower overlooking the harbor, Roman and Aurora sat in the dark.
Aurora was dressed in a sleek black tactical coat, her hair tied back tightly, a pair of high-powered night-vision binoculars raised to her eyes. Beside her, Roman was monitoring six digital feeds displaying real-time thermal imaging of the vessel’s lower decks.
“There she is,” Aurora murmured, focusing her binoculars on a discreet service hatch near the vessel’s stern.
A figure wrapped in a heavy dark oilskin coat stepped off the gangway, carrying a small, silver metallic briefcase. The figure glanced around nervously before heading toward a waiting unmarked black van parked near the fuel storage tanks.
The thermal feed picked up her face as she lowered her hood for a split second to check her phone.
It was Celeste.
“She’s moving toward the rendezvous,” Roman said into his headset. “Marcus, team one move into block position alpha. Team two, seal the gate exit. Do not engage until she opens that briefcase.”
Down on the docks, Celeste reached the black van. The driver’s side window rolled down, revealing the shadowy silhouette of a man smoking a cigar.
Through the parabolic directional microphone installed on the tower balcony, the audio feed crackled to life inside Roman and Aurora’s earpieces.
“Did you get the original logbooks from Lorenzo’s vessel?” a voice rasped from the van. It was the distinct, gravelly tone of Marco Duca—Aurora’s father.
“They were hidden in the captain’s safe on the lower deck just as you said,” Celeste replied, her voice trembling slightly with tension. “Where is my payment? The Vascari security team has locked down every airport in Italy. Roman knows.”
“Roman knows nothing,” Marco spat coldly. “He thinks my daughter is hiding at her estate in Portofino crying over her broken marriage. Once the media releases the story tomorrow that Aurora attempted to poison you out of professional jealousy, the Vascari board will be forced to remove Roman for corporate negligence.”
“And what about Aurora’s pregnancy?” Celeste asked, her tone sharpening. “The dose I put in her bag didn't work! She never took the capsules!”
Marco let out a low, disgusting laugh. “It doesn't matter. Once I assume control of the joint trust after Roman is deposed, your little problem will be handled permanently. A grieving mother who suffers a tragic miscarriage due to 'stress' is a very tragic headline, isn't it?”
In the observation room, Roman’s hand crushed the plastic housing of his tactical tablet until the screen shattered into spiderweb fractures.
He stood up, his eyes burning with an absolute, apocalyptic rage.
“Roman,” Aurora said, standing up beside him and grabbing his forearm.
He looked at her, his breathing heavy and dangerous. “He just signed his death warrant, Aurora.”
“No,” Aurora said, her voice dropping into a chillingly calm register as she reached into her coat and pulled out an encrypted satellite controller. “He signed his total surrender. Press the button.”
Down on the dock, before Marco could put the van in gear, four massive six-ton automated container handlers suddenly rolled out of the darkness, blocking the van from the front, rear, and both sides, pinning the vehicle in a cage of solid steel!
Dozens of high-intensity floodlights snapped on simultaneously from the surrounding crane towers, blinding Marco and Celeste in a sea of white light!
Over the port’s high-power emergency broadcast system, Roman’s voice boomed across the harbor like the judgment of God.
“Marco Duca. Step out of the vehicle.”
Marco threw open the driver’s door, squinting wildly into the blinding light, pulling a sleek silver pistol from his suit coat. “Who’s there? I am the Chairman of Duca Maritime! You have no authority here!”
From the shadow of the nearest container stack, Roman stepped into the light. He wasn't wearing body armor. He was wearing a dark, tailored suit, walking with slow, deliberate steps toward the trapped van.
Beside him walked Aurora.
When Marco saw his daughter standing beside Roman, holding a tablet displaying a live broadcast feed connecting directly to the Italian Federal Prosecutor’s office and the Global Maritime Security Council, the gun in his hand began to shake.
“Aurora?” Marco stammered, his face turning an ash-gray color. “What... what is this?”
“It’s the end of your company, Father,” Aurora said, her voice echoing clearly across the wet concrete. “And the beginning of your life sentence.”
Celeste dropped the metallic briefcase onto the wet asphalt, falling to her knees, screaming in hysterical panic as Marcus’s security officers swarmed the area, slamming Marco against the side of his van and snapping heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists.
Marco thrashed against the guards, glaring at Aurora with pure hatred. “You ungrateful bitch! Everything I did was to build an empire for this family!”
Roman stepped directly into Marco’s face. He grabbed Marco by the throat, lifting the older man slightly off his feet, leaning in until their noses were inches apart.
“You killed my brother,” Roman growled, his voice so terrifyingly low that even the guards held their breath. “You tried to murder my unborn son. You will spend the rest of your miserable life in a maximum-security cell in Genoa, watching through a barred window as my wife and I erase the name Duca from every ocean on this planet.”
Roman threw him back against the van. “Get him out of my sight.”
As the security detail dragged Marco and Celeste away toward waiting police transport vehicles, the heavy silence of the port returned, broken only by the gentle lapping of the sea against the hull of the ships.
Aurora stood near the edge of the quay, looking out at the dark horizon where the ocean met the sky.
Roman walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest, shielding her from the cold northern wind. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his hands dropping down to cover her stomach once more.
May you like
“It’s over,” Roman whispered into her ear.
“No,” Aurora smiled softly, leaning her head back against his shoulder as the first rays of dawn began to break through the dark clouds, painting the sea in shades of brilliant gold and violet. “It’s just beginning.”
