Chapter 249
Chapter 249:
A wave of suffocating despair broke over him. Cole let out a broken cry and hurled the phone at the bulletproof glass window. The device exploded on impact, the screen shattering into countless jagged fragments — much like the ruins of everything he had destroyed.
While Cole was destroying his office in New York, a massive Gulfstream G650 bearing the Love Group insignia touched down smoothly on the tarmac of Boston Logan International Airport.
The cabin door opened. June stepped out onto the metal stairs in a sleek black trench coat and dark sunglasses. The freezing Boston wind whipped her hair around her face, but her posture remained rigid and commanding. Crawford Love and Dr. Brogan Clements followed closely behind her. The three of them had flown to Boston with a single, lethal objective: trace the offshore money and dismantle the underground counterfeit drug syndicate.
Three armored black Chevrolet Suburbans idled on the tarmac. They climbed into the lead vehicle.
As the convoy sped toward the industrial docks of South Boston, Crawford opened an encrypted military-grade tablet.
“My hackers traced the Cayman Islands shell company,” he said, his voice a low, professional rumble. “The money is being funneled directly into a cold-storage warehouse in the port district p>
W𝘦 u𝗉𝖽𝘢𝘁𝗲 𝗲𝗏𝖾𝗋𝘺 𝘸𝖾е𝗸 о𝗇
Brogan clenched his fists, knuckles whitening. “These parasites are using the Boston shipping lanes to distribute poison to cancer patients across the entire country p>
Thirty minutes later, the convoy pulled into a dark, abandoned alleyway three blocks from the target warehouse. A Boston Police detective — a man whose career Crawford’s father had pulled from the edge of ruin years ago — waited beside an unmarked sedan, ready to repay a debt that could never be fully settled. He handed June a pair of heavy military-grade binoculars and pointed toward a massive gray corrugated steel structure in the distance.
“That’s the place,” the Detective whispered. “On paper, it’s a seafood import hub. But unmarked box trucks roll in and out every night between two and four in the morning p>
June raised the binoculars and scanned the perimeter slowly. Her breath caught.
“The perimeter is lined with thermal-imaging cameras and motion-sensor floodlights,” she said, her voice dropping into a clinical, analytical register. “This is not a street gang. This is a paramilitary-level security operation p>
Crawford nodded. “Can we pull the city traffic cameras for the trucks’ license plates p>
The Detective let out a heavy sigh and unrolled a large municipal blueprint across the SUV’s hood. “They’re smart,” he said, tracing a finger along the map. “They identified a massive blind spot in the city’s surveillance grid. Every single access road to that warehouse avoids the traffic cameras. We can’t get a single face or plate on tape p>
Brogan dragged a frustrated hand through his hair. “If we don’t have physical evidence of the drugs in transit, the FDA and the FBI won’t authorize a raid. We’re completely paralyzed p>
The freezing ocean wind howled through the alley. A heavy silence fell over the group.
Crawford’s eyes narrowed to lethal slits. “If we can’t do this legally, I’ll send a tactical extraction team in tonight,” he said, his voice entirely without emotion. “We breach the doors, seize the logistics manager, and extract the information p>
“No,” June said immediately.