Chapter 12
By dawn, the Valerio Estate had transformed from a quiet upstate sanctuary into a highly militarized command center. Thomas Vance, Dominic’s longtime legal counsel and chief asset officer, sat at the head of a massive mahogany conference table in the estate's underground bunker. The walls were lined with digital maps tracking every major interstate and shipping lane on the Eastern Seaboard. Vance was not just a lawyer; he was the architect of Dominic's financial empire, the man who had frozen the Cross family's credit lines the day prior.
"The Chicago teams are using commercial freight trucks to bypass state weigh stations," Vance explained, pointing a laser at the digital map. "Three trucks, registered to a shell logistics company out of Illinois. They are currently thirty miles outside of the New Jersey border."
Dominic stood at the head of the table, wearing a dark, unbranded tactical suit that mirrored the simple, imposing garments he favored. He analyzed the glowing red dots moving steadily along the digitized highway. His mind, sharpened by decades of surviving the most vicious underworld wars in American history, calculated the trajectories instantly.
"They will take Route 80 to avoid the main toll plazas," Dominic stated, leaning his heavy hands against the table. "There is a two-mile stretch through the Delaware Water Gap. It’s isolated, surrounded by dense forest, and devoid of traffic cameras. That is where we break them."
Elias, standing beside Vance, nodded sharply. "I have two heavily armored interceptor units ready to deploy. We can box them in at the gorge and disable the engines with electromagnetic spikes. But Thorne is heavily armed. It will be a heavy firefight."
"I am not sending you in to trade bullets with Chicago street thugs, Elias," Dominic said quietly, his piercing gaze locking onto his commander. "We are going to surgically remove them. Use the terrain. I want sniper teams positioned on the ridge above the gap. Blow the tires on the lead truck, drop the trees behind the rear truck. Trap them in the valley."
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Thomas Vance adjusted his glasses, looking up at Dominic. "And what about the political fallout, boss? Three destroyed freight trucks on a major interstate will draw the FBI's attention."
"The trucks will never be found on the interstate," Dominic replied seamlessly. "Have our cleanup crews standing by with heavy wreckers. Once Elias neutralizes the threat, haul the vehicles into the private salvage yards we own in Newark. By the time the sun rises, Marcus Thorne and his men will be nothing more than crushed scrap metal. Chicago will learn what happens when they cross my borders."
