Chapter 9 - Ferry Six
Ferry Six was not a passenger ferry.
It was a service barge scheduled to carry equipment for the waterfront event.
Lighting rigs.
Portable generators.
Decorative structures.
Media equipment.
It would dock Thursday night.
Remain through Friday.
Nobody would pay attention to one more utility container aboard.
Perfect.
Federal agents intercepted it before docking.
Search teams found nothing.
No snakes.
No silver case.
No Derek.
Then Titan arrived.
Against medical advice.
Against my better judgment.
Against almost everyone’s recommendation except his own.
He wore a padded support harness.
No jumping.
No running.
No apprehension work.
Only scent.
I crouched beside him.
“One search.”
His eyes stayed on me.
“One.”
Tail moved.
“Then you’re done.”
We boarded.
Titan worked slowly.
Past generators.
Tool chests.
Cables.
Metal framework.
At the rear deck, he stopped beside a sealed equipment crate.
No alert for reptile scent.
Different response.
Confused.
He sniffed again.
Then sat.
Maya examined the crate.
“Not transport bedding.”
“What does he smell?”
“Maybe something from the same storage location.”
We opened it remotely.
Inside:
Nothing biological.
A camera.
A transmitter.
A laptop.
Live feed software.
Derek had planned to broadcast something.
Then a second compartment opened beneath the false floor.
Three police uniforms.
Two fire department jackets.
One federal protective suit.
And laminated credentials.
Fake.
Derek’s people planned to move through the emergency response itself.
I looked at Ramirez.
“He doesn’t need to avoid police.”
“He plans to look like us.”
The laptop contained preloaded video titles.
SEATTLE UNDER ATTACK.
CITY LOSES CONTROL.
CHILDREN EXPOSED.
PANIC AT WATERFRONT.
Derek had prepared the story before creating the event.
Same pattern as Centennial Park.
Create footage.
Control the first narrative.
Then let fear do the rest.
One file was different.
TITAN FINAL.
I opened it.
A photograph of Titan at the park.
Then another after the shooting.
Underneath:
HEROES FAIL TOO.
My hands tightened.
Maya touched my arm.
“Ethan.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No.”
I looked at Titan.
“I’m really not.”
We found metadata in the video file.
Created at a location near Pier 46.
A warehouse leased through one of Aurora Biotech’s shell companies.
We raided that night.
Empty.
Almost.
One office remained powered.
Desk lamp.
Coffee still warm.
Derek had left minutes earlier.
On the wall hung a city transit map.
One route circled.
Not the waterfront.
Sophie Mercer’s school.
My stomach dropped.
I called Rachel.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Then her phone connected.
Not Rachel.
A man.
Derek.
“Officer Cole.”
My blood turned cold.
“Where are they?”
“Rachel is safe.”
“Sophie?”
Pause.
“With me.”
Everything in the room disappeared.
“You touch her—”
“I already did.”
A video arrived.
Sophie sitting in a chair.
Unhurt.
Terrified.
Behind her:
Glass reptile enclosures.
A silver medical transport case.
And Dr. Elaine Voss.
Alive.
Free.
Smiling.
Derek said quietly:
May you like
“You finally found the real partnership.”
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