At sunset, New York's coastline was bathed in the glow of the setting sun, as though a great snowstorm of gold leaf had fallen the night before. Not far from shore, a cruise ship slowly set sail.
It was obviously a luxury liner from its appearance alone. As the light gradually dimmed, brilliant lights came on inside the cabins, while the people who had taken the yacht out to sea quietly admired the approaching night.
On the terrace of a restaurant in a prime spot on the second deck, two men in suits sat at the table nearest the edge. Grant absently picked at the food on his plate, while Schiller had already finished eating and leaned back in his chair, enjoying the sea breeze and the sunset.
After a while, he stood up. Grant said nothing and followed behind him. Schiller strode through the restaurant, then passed through the bustling dance floor, weaving between elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen and the hazy lights reflected by exquisite glassware.
He arrived in the corridor of the cruise ship's passenger cabins. Stopping in front of a door, he knocked. Schiller's voice sounded at the same time as the door opened. He said, "The moment you see me, you'll think S.H.I.E.L.D. found you. But quite the opposite—Nick tracked you down, and I covered for you, Alexander Pierce."
An old man with graying hair appeared behind the door. He froze upon hearing Schiller's words, but when he saw Grant Ward standing outside with a gun already in his hand, he knew he had no choice.
In an instant, Pierce seemed to age several years. He no longer had the spirited bearing he had once displayed in his Security Council seat. He slowly stepped back a few paces and let Schiller enter.
Schiller raised his