Chapter 2: The Appointment at the Dock
Pier 47 is an abandoned freight station.
I arrived half an hour early and observed the terrain among the containers. There were three exits, seven high points, and at least fifteen positions for Tibetans.
Allen had no intention of letting me leave alive.
"on time."
Allen emerged from the shadows. Five years had passed; he had grown a beard, and his eyes were colder than before. Eight armed men followed behind him.
"I can pay back Tommy's debt."
"Two million?" Allen laughed. "You've been retired for five years, and you have less than a hundred thousand in savings. How are you going to pay it back?"
"Installment payment."
"I don't need the money." He took a step closer. "I need you to do one thing. In three days, escort a shipment across the Mexican border. Once you've done this, the debt is wiped clean."
arms.
"I refuse."
"Then Tommy's doomed." Allen took out his phone and swiped the screen to show me.
In the photo, a man's hand is nailed to a table.
"This is the guy who rejected me last month," Allen said. "He's in the hospital now, and all ten of his fingers are useless."
You have six days to consider it.
I didn't say anything.
A sharp pain started in the spine area.
The limiter is warning me: Don't be impulsive.
But I've already moved.
I punched Allen in the face.
He dodged to the side, his knee aimed at my stomach. I parried, grabbed his collar, and headbutted him.
"Is that all you've got?" Allen wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth .
I swept my leg, and he jumped up and stomped on my knee. I rolled away to avoid it, and the moment I stood up, a sharp pain shot through my spine.
The limiter is punishing me.
Because for a split second, my body instinctively wanted to activate invisibility.
The ____ does not work.
Allen's fist slammed into my face. I felt my nose hit, but it wasn't broken. I grabbed his wrist and twisted it back.
He winced in pain and took two steps back.
"You've got some skill," he said, cracking his knuckles, "but not enough."
We were facing off.
His eight henchmen behind him raised their guns and pointed them at me.
"Six days, Jess. If you still refuse after six days, I'll let Tommy die like my brother Johnson."
Johnson.
That name is like a thorn, piercing my nerves.
Five years ago, during the Baghdad mission, Johnson was one of three comrades who died in action. He is Allen's younger brother.
"no--"
"Shut up!" Allen slammed his fist on the container. "You acted without authorization, causing a delay in reinforcements. He got blown to pieces by an RPG!"
That's not the truth—
I don't want to hear your excuses.
He led his men to retreat quickly.
I slowly sat down against the container, my spine still aching slightly.
"Jace?"
I looked up. A woman stood ten meters away, dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase.
Sophia.
She has matured a lot since ten years ago, but her eyes are still so clear.
Tommy called me and said you might need help.
"I'm fine."
"Your nose is bleeding." She came over and knelt down in front of me. "Who is Alan Cross?"
"Creditor."
"What does he want you to do?"
"Transporting weapons."
Sophia remained silent for a few seconds.
"I can help you investigate whether the debt is legal. If it's usury or fraud, you can resolve it through legal channels."
"Is there enough time? He gave us six days."
" Not necessarily, but at least we can try. Tomorrow I'll retrieve the debt records and see if there are any loopholes."
"good."
She stood up.
Do you remember what you said on the day you graduated from high school?
I remember.
"I said I would come back."
"So you're back." She looked at me. "So don't let me lose you again. Come to my law firm tomorrow morning at ten o'clock."
She left.
I sat alone next to the shipping container, looking at the Los Angeles night sky.
The stabbing pain in my spine has finally subsided.
But I know this is only temporary.
