Chapter 262
Chapter 262:
“Alpha team, hold your perimeter,” he said, his voice a low, lethal command. “Wait until he makes the physical drop. We need him holding the merchandise p>
Through the thermal lens, June watched Rocco drag a massive black duffel bag from the back of the van, haul it over his shoulder, and disappear down a narrow alleyway formed by two towering walls of red shipping containers.
Three agonizing minutes passed.
Rocco emerged from the alleyway with empty hands and broke immediately into a fast jog, heading straight back to the van.
“Move,” Crawford said into his mic.
The trap snapped shut.
Two black Chevrolet Suburbans exploded from behind a pile of rusted machinery, tires screaming against the wet asphalt. They braked hard and formed a steel barricade directly in front of the Ford van, sealing off its exit.
Rocco froze. Then, instead of surrendering, he shoved his door open, launched himself out of the cabin, hit the wet ground rolling, and sprinted directly into the dense maze of shipping containers.
June shoved her own door open and jumped out into the freezing rain. Crawford hit the ground right behind her, his boots splashing heavily through the puddles.
“Lock down the perimeter!” Crawford roared into his radio, his voice bouncing off the steel walls. “He does not leave this grid p>
The air inside the container maze smelled of wet rust and rotting fish. The towering metal walls blocked out the pale morning light, creating a claustrophobic labyrinth of deep, shifting shadows.
а𝘤𝗍𝗶𝘷е c𝗈𝘮muո𝗶ty 𝗈𝘯.со𝘮
Rocco moved with the desperate speed of a man who knew every inch of the yard, cutting sharp, unpredictable turns, his gray hoodie flashing briefly in the gloom before vanishing again. He was pulling ahead of Crawford’s tactical team.
June stopped at a four-way intersection of containers, chest heaving, lungs burning from the cold air. She forced her mind to slow down and studied the faded yellow serial numbers painted on the container sides.
There was a sequential pattern.
She spun and grabbed Crawford’s arm.
“He’s funneling toward the north maintenance access!” she shouted over the rain. “If he hits that fence, he’s gone. We have to split up and cut off his angle p>
Crawford looked down into her dark, determined eyes. He didn’t argue. He trusted her reasoning without reservation.
“Do it,” he said. “You take the left corridor. I’ll push through the right with the team. We converge at the base of crane number three p>
June nodded sharply, turned, and sprinted down a narrow, pitch-black gap between two blue containers. Her boots slapped hard against the slick, oily concrete. Crawford waved two of his bodyguards forward and they charged down the opposite path.
The chase reached a fever pitch. Heavy breathing, splashing water, and static bursts from Crawford’s radio blended into a chaotic symphony of noise and urgency.
June ran alone, the massive steel walls pressing in on her from both sides. The rain plastered her hair flat against her cheeks as she rounded a sharp corner.
Fifty yards ahead, the gray hoodie flashed past a stack of wooden pallets.