The shipyard was a skeletal maze of rusting shipping containers and salt-heavy mist. Elias moved like a shadow—efficient, practiced, unremarkable. He found the package: a silver briefcase chained to the wrist of a man who looked like he’d already seen the end of his own movie.

Instead of a confrontation, Elias utilized the heavy fog and a nearby crane control to create a sudden, loud distraction. In the confusion, he didn't aim for a final standoff. He chose a path that allowed him to disappear, leaving the briefcase where it could be found, but with the data secured in a way that rendered the immediate conflict moot.

The next few minutes required every bit of the efficiency Elias had honed over fifteen years. He moved with calculated precision, using the labyrinth of containers to outmaneuver the approaching group. This wasn't about being a hero; it was about the math of survival. He bypassed the main entrance, finding a narrow gap between the stacks that led toward the water.

He stood up, dropped a five-dollar bill on the counter, and checked the weight of the Glock tucked into his waistband.