Chapter 43 - The Ghosts of Marseille
The dirt bike carried them through the rugged mountain passes of Andalusia until it ran out of gas. From there, they bought a rusted hatchback with cash from a local farmer and drove straight through the night, crossing the border into France. They needed a place to disappear, and they needed information.
They arrived in Marseille at dawn. The port city was a labyrinth of shipping containers, salty air, and deep shadows—the perfect place for ghosts to hide.
Maxwell navigated them to a dilapidated dockside tavern that smelled of stale beer and diesel fuel. It was run by a man named Luc, an old smuggler who owed his life to Arthur Vance. Luc took one look at Maxwell’s face and immediately locked the front doors, leading them down into a secure basement room lined with old maritime maps.
"Your father saved me from a firing squad in Algiers twenty years ago," Luc said in thick, gravelly French, setting a bottle of whiskey on the table. "I heard the Vance empire burned. I heard the sons were dead."
"One of us is very much alive," Maxwell said, pouring two glasses. "And the other refuses to stay buried. I need a name, Luc. Who is moving Victor's money? If Victor survived, his assets were frozen by Interpol. He needs capital to hire strike teams. Someone is funding his resurrection."
Luc sighed, rubbing his scarred jaw. "There are whispers on the docks. A new syndicate moving in on the routes your father used to control. They call themselves the Black Tide. They're ruthless. They took over the Corsican smuggling lanes in a week."
"Who runs it?" Martha asked, her eyes sharp.
"A ghost," Luc replied. "But his fixer is a man named Silas Vane. A former intelligence operative turned mercenary. If Victor is pulling strings, Vane is the one holding them. Vane operates out of an underground casino in Monaco. High-stakes. Invite only."
Maxwell looked at Martha. The exhaustion of the last two days was evident on her face, but her eyes burned with an unyielding fire. They couldn't run forever. Victor would hunt them to the ends of the earth. The only way to survive was to sever the head of the snake once and for all.
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"Can you get us into that casino, Luc?" Maxwell asked.
Luc smiled grimly. "For Arthur Vance's son? I can get you through the front door. But getting out alive... that will be up to you."
