Chapter 46: Rats in the Loading Bay
The massive king-sized bed in Elena’s mansion was still warm when Rick carefully slipped out from under the heavy white duvet.
Elena lay completely exhausted and deeply asleep, one arm stretched across the space he had just left. Rick paused for a second, looking at her soft expression, then quietly pulled on his dark jeans and t-shirt.
His phone had vibrated on the nightstand with a text from Marcus.
’Boss, the rats have infiltrated the loading docks just like you predicted.’
Rick’s lips curved into a small, amused smirk. He did not think Roy was telling the truth. But it looks like. his father was indeed planning something.
Did he use his own son as a distraction?
Rick leaned down and brushed a light kiss against Elena’s lips this time, lingering for just a second before pulling back.
"I will be back soon, Doc," he whispered.
As if she had heard him even through her deep sleep, Elena’s lips curled into a small, contented smile. Her fingers shifted slightly across the sheets before relaxing again.
Rick soon stepped out into the cool night air, swung his leg over the matte-black Ducati and fired up the engine.
The deep roar shattered the quiet of the wealthy neighbourhood as he tore through the empty city streets toward the Peninsula Hotel’s underground shipping bays.
"Hmmm... Rick it tickles! Hehehehe"
~~~~~
Soon, Rick rode his Ducati near the service entrance, and there Marcus was already waiting outside.
The moment he saw the Ducati roll to a stop, Marcus straightened from where he had been leaning against the wall.
"Boss! You are here," Marcus quickly walked up to Rick, "Is the police coming?"
"Police?" Rick removed his helmet, "We don’t need to involve the government in this."
"We don’t?" Marcus gave him a surprised look.
"I am surprised you would actually think about it" Rick raised an eyebrow.
"Why wouldn’t I?" Marcus stared at him for a second.
Ugghh!" Rick sighed, as she gently patted Marcus’s shoulder, "That is why you are not the chosen one."
"So, what’s the situation? Rick asked changing the topic.
"I have got the area secured," Marcus said, still confused why he wasn’t the chosen one, "Security is positioned at both entrances. No one gets in or out without us knowing."
"How many?" Rick nodded as he rolled up his sleeves.
"At least twelve. Maybe more," Marcus replied.
Rick glanced toward the service entrance, "Any idea what they are doing?"
"From what we have picked up, they are contaminating the ingredients," Marcus told Rick, They must have gotten some inside help. There is no sign of forced entry."
Rick’s expression did not change as he looked at the entrance and then at Marcus, "Then let’s go say hello."
Marcus hesitated, "Boss?"
Rick looked back, "Yeah?"
"Do you want to go in?" Marcus asked.
"Why not? Shouldn’t I know who is ploting against me? Rick raised his eyebrow as if he was looking at an idiot.
"Let the security go in first. And once they have...."
"No.." Rick shook his head, and cut Marcus mid-sentence, "I am used to doing things on my own."
Marcus blinked. "No?"
Marcus stared at him.
He had not expected that answer.
His internal alarm immediately started screaming.
"Of course!"
"Why would the boss bring his security guards?"
"It makes complete sense."
But no matter how they say Boss is always right. This made literally no sense.
And while he went through his internal conflict, Rick had pushed open the service entrance and stepped inside.
Marcus instinctively followed, but then he quickly stopped.
Rick looked over his shoulder, "Coming?"
"Ummm..." Marcus forced a smile, "Of course."
"Then don’t be in my way."
And as soon as they walked in Rick immediately picked up hushed voices near the pallets of imported Wagyu and rare truffles reserved for the International Culinary Summit.
A fat, greasy harbour supervisor named Dirk stood in the middle of a dozen hired thugs, ordering them to open thick plastic barrels of foul-smelling industrial chemicals.
"Hurry up and ruin it all," Dirk sneered, rubbing his hands together, "We are getting paid a fortune. We can’t be half-assed in deliverying our services."
Marcus’s expression darkened.
He looked toward Rick.
Rick simply smiled.
That smile made Marcus nervous.
Rick stepped out of the shadows without a word, the pitch-black Shadow-Forged Cleavers already in his hands.
The temperature in the warehouse seemed to drop.
Marcus quietly stepped to the side.
One of the thugs turned, spotted him, and dropped his crowbar in pure shock. Before the man could shout a warning, Rick blurred forward and smashed the flat side of the cleaver into his face.
The sickening crunch of a shattered jaw echoed through the space.
"Aaaargh!"
Marcus’s eyebrows shot upward.
And there goes Jaw Number One.
The rest of the group spun around.
"Who is there?"
"Whoever it is Kill him! Break his legs!" Dirk shrieked, pointing a shaking finger, "I don’t want any witnesses."
Rick let out a short, almost cheerful laugh, "You boys really picked the wrong night to play with my ingredients."
He ducked under a swinging metal pipe, drove his boot into the second thug’s kneecap, and listened to the joint snap the other way.
Another man swung a baseball bat; Rick caught it mid-swing, yanked the attacker forward, and slammed his head into a steel support pillar. The man dropped like a sack of wet cement.
In less than thirty seconds the entire group was on the floor, groaning, bleeding, or completely unconscious.
Rick moved with clean, efficient power, never wasting a motion, and never losing the slight smirk on his face.
Then Rick stopped. He picked up something.
A heartbeat. It was faint, slow and controlled.
Rick’s eyes narrowed. He slowly turned his head toward the massive refrigerated storage unit at the far end of the loading bay.
"Interesting."
The metal door suddenly exploded outward.
A tall man in black rushed from inside, a short combat blade flashing toward Rick’s throat.
Rick tilted his head, and the blade passed harmlessly by his neck.
The man’s expression changed, but before he could do anything, Rick had already caught his wrist.
"You are different from the rest," Rick smirked.
"Let go!" The man twisted violently, trying to break free, but Rick’s grip tightened.
"How cute." Rick smiled, You think just because you asked."
And with that, he slammed the man’s fist into the concrete floor.
Once.
Twice.
The assassin grunted and attempted to drive a knee into Rick’s stomach.
Rick caught that too.
For the first time that night, the amused expression disappeared from his face, "That’s very disrespectful."
The assassin’s eyes narrowed, "You have no idea who you’re dealing with."
Rick’s smile returned, "That’s true."
He leaned closer, "But I don’t care."
A second later, Rick drove his elbow into the man’s chest and sent him crashing backward into a stack of wooden crates. The crates splintered under the impact.
The assassin tried to rise.
Rick was already there.
One strike to the stomach.
One to the shoulder.
Then a final blow to the back of the neck.
The man collapsed unconscious.
Rick looked down at him, "Still not impressed."
Dirk stared at the scene in horror, all the men he had hired were already done and dusted lying on the ground.
All of them.
"No.... No... No... This can’t be. Ghost! You are a fucking ghost!" He turned and tried to sprint for the loading bay doors.
Rick caught him by the collar before he made it three steps.
"Where do you think you’re going, fatty?"
He twisted Dirk’s right arm behind his back until a loud pop echoed through the warehouse.
"Aaaahhh! My hand!"
But Rick did not care and he grabbed a fistful of greasy hair, hauled the supervisor’s face up, and delivered a rapid series of open-handed face-slaps that echoed like gunshots.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!
Two bloody teeth hit the concrete. Dirk was sobbing and swollen by the time Rick stopped.
Rick pulled out his phone, shoved the camera in Dirk’s ruined face, and hit record.
"Start talking. Every detail. Names, money, the whole plan. Leave anything out and I will start removing fingers."
Dirk swallowed desperately.
"I don’t know anything!"
Rick stared at him.
"Wrong answer."
"I swear! I was only hired to move the chemicals!"
Rick crouched in front of him.
"Then you won’t mind if I break a couple of your bones and chop of your limbs, would you?"
"As you can see... i don’t want to get the law enforcement involved."
Dirk froze.
Rick’s eyes dropped toward the man’s trouser.
"If you want I can start from there. I am sure the fish we have will love it."
Dirk’s face went pale.
Rick smiled.
"Ah. There it is."
"I will talk!"
"Good."
Dirk immediately began spilling everything.
"Mathew gave us the money! He said the hotel had to be ruined before the summit!"
"He gave me the money. He wanted the ingredients contaminated so the entire event would collapse!"
Rick’s expression remained calm.
Rick watched him carefully.
"How much?"
"Five million!"
"Five Mill.... I mean fair enough. Even I would have not rejected that much money."
Rick stared at him for several seconds, and then he stopped the recording.
He checked the time, then gave Dirk one final kick to the stomach that left him vomiting on the floor.
He immediately called out Marcus.
"Bring security down to the loading bay. Tie these rats up and put them in the basement or feedthem to the fishes, I don’t care."
"On it, Boss."
Rick glanced at the unconscious assassin.
"And Marcus?"
"Yes, Boss?"
"There’s one more. The man in black."
A brief silence.
"Understood."
"Don’t let him wake up until I say so."
"Got it."
Rick looked one last time arounf as his eyes moved toward the contaminated ingredients.
Then toward the chemical barrels.
Then toward the unconscious assassin.
Someone had planned this carefully.
Mathew can’t be the only one. Or can he?
Rick did not know the whole story.
But he intended to write the climax himself.
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