Chapter 13 - Night at the Docks|
The Port of Chicago was engulfed in a swirling autumn fog. Massive shipping cranes stood like skeletal giants against the black sky, and the cold waves of Lake Michigan slapped violently against the concrete pylons.
At Pier 4, a 400-foot cargo freighter, The Northern Star, was running its engines, thick diesel smoke billowing into the mist. Marcus Moretti stood near the loading gangway, barking orders at a dozen armed mercenaries loading wooden crates filled with untraceable bearer bonds and gold bullion.
Suddenly, the harbor’s industrial floodlights slammed on with blinding brilliance.
Dozens of black SUVs tore onto the concrete pier, forming an impenetrable semicircle around the ship. Sirens wailed in the distance as federal task forces sealed off the harbor exits.
Moretti’s men scrambled, reaching for their weapons, but a single megaphone cut through the screeching gulls:
"Drop your weapons! Federal agents! You are completely surrounded!"
Gunfire erupted instantly. Moretti’s panicked mercenaries fired blindly into the blinding lights.
From behind the lead SUV, Nathan Drake moved with deadly efficiency. Despite his injured shoulder, his tactical instincts were flawless. Working alongside federal agents, Drake’s security detail dismantled Moretti’s line of defense in minutes, cutting down the mercenaries before they could reach the ship's gangway.
Realizing his escape was doomed, Moretti grabbed a duffel bag and sprinted toward the end of the maintenance catwalk, trying to reach a private speedboat moored at the pier's edge.
"Nathan!" I shouted from behind the armored barricade where Cole had insisted I stay.
Nathan didn't look back. He vaulted over a steel barrier, sprinting after Moretti onto the wet catwalk.
Moretti reached the edge of the pier, frantically untying the mooring line of the speedboat. Footsteps pounded behind him. He spun around, pulling a snub-nosed revolver from his coat.
Bang!
The shot sparked off the iron railing inches from Nathan’s head. Nathan didn't flinch. He closed the distance like a panther, his left fist crashing into Moretti’s jaw with brutal, concussive force.
Moretti flew backward, his gun clattering off the wet concrete and sinking into the black water below.
The old mobster scrambled back against the edge of the pier, spitting blood onto his designer coat. He looked up at Nathan, his eyes wide with animal panic.
"Drake... wait!" Moretti wheezed, holding his hands up. "We can split the offshore accounts! Fifty million! You can have the entire Great Lakes corridor! Just let me take the boat!"
Nathan stood over him, the cold wind whipping his dark hair. The sirens were getting closer. Squad cars were flooding the gates.
"You poisoned innocent people for eight million dollars, Marcus," Nathan said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. "You killed my sister Clara. You poisoned Hannah Carter."
"It was business!" Moretti shrieked. "It was just business!"
Nathan grabbed Moretti by the throat with his powerful left hand, lifting the heavy mobster off his feet and dangling him over the freezing, churning abyss of Lake Michigan.
"This isn't business, Marcus," Nathan said softly. "This is justice."
For five seconds, Moretti dangled over the freezing dark, thrashing and begging for his life. Nathan looked down at the man who had haunted his nightmares for six years. He could have dropped him. No court would have convicted him; no diver would have found the body in the currents.
Then, Nathan heard my voice echoing across the pier: "Don't become the monster they think you are."
With a furious roar, Nathan swung his arm back and hurled Moretti violently onto the hard concrete of the pier, knocking the wind completely out of the mobster's lungs.
Special Agent Harris and a dozen armed federal agents stormed the catwalk, tackling Moretti to the ground and clicking heavy steel cuffs around his wrists.
"Marcus Moretti," Agent Harris shouted over the wind. "You are under arrest for racketeering, drug trafficking, corporate sabotage, and first-degree murder!"
Nathan stepped back into the shadows as the agents hauled Moretti away. He turned toward the floodlights.
May you like
I was running toward him, my hair flying in the lake wind, heedless of the rain or the flashing red lights. When I reached him, I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face against his uninjured shoulder.
Nathan wrapped his arm around my waist, lifting me off the ground, holding me against his chest as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
