They both underestimated how much of that machinery was held together by my daily interventions.

For five years, I had scheduled their bribes, covered their logistical errors, and smoothed over their turf disputes.

Without me, they were just two angry men with guns and too much pride.

I checked my watch.

It was ten past eight.

By midnight, the harbor would be crawling with flashing blue lights.

I sat back down at the table and opened the laptop again.

I logged into the security feed of the pier.

I had installed a hidden IP camera in the rafters of Warehouse 4 two years ago, using a shell company’s funds.

Arthur didn’t even know it existed.

The feed was grainy, showing the rain-slicked concrete of the yard and the yellow halogen lights of the pier.

Nothing was moving yet.

At nine o’clock, my phone buzzed again.

It was an alert from the police scanner app I had running in the background.

The dispatchers were directing three unmarked units toward the waterfront.

The trap was closing.

I watched the screen.

At ten-thirty, a black SUV pulled into the frame on the warehouse camera.