The freezing winter rain over the Thames Estuary had turned into a relentless, icy deluge that washed over the dark, industrial concrete of Berth 3. High above the water, the automated cranes of the Wapping docks groaned in the wind, their massive iron arms silhouetted against a leaden, purple London sky. The area was completely abandoned by human workers, scrubbed from the municipal logistics grids by the Orion Directorate’s digital mainframes. The only movement came from a single, unmarked shipping container filled with refined alchemical platinum, prepared for distribution to the European underground networks.
Hidden within the deep shadows of an adjacent brick warehouse, three covert operatives from the rogue remnants of the Ley Line Keepers stood motionless.
They did not wear the mo
