At three-thirty in the morning, the Falcone command mobile unit was parked in an industrial alley overlooking the Calumet River rail yards. Inside the surveillance van, digital monitors displayed live thermal satellite feeds of Track 7. Three massive black tanker cars sat on the siding, surrounded by eight armed mercenaries in winter camouflage patrolling the perimeter with assault rifles. Isla stood beside Lorenzo, wearing a black leather jacket and dark…
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