Forced to Kill

by Andrew Peterson

  Nathan whispered, “Harv, radio check.”

  “Good.”

  “Grangeland?”

  “Good.”

  “Okay, we’ll make a pass on the opposite sidewalk and look for cameras.”

  He studied the building as they rounded the corner. Constructed of concrete block with small slotted windows near the roofline, the building looked to be approximately one hundred feet square and twenty feet high. Basically a giant box. It probably had a second-level loft or office above the bathrooms. Most small warehouses had floor plans like that. He wouldn’t know until they gained entry. As Harv predicted, the rear wall of the warehouse employed two roll-up doors serving a loading dock. A camera mounted on the roof’s parapet was aimed at the loading dock. They kept going down the sidewalk.

  The front of the building employed a single metal door with a wall-mounted security camera pointing down at a 45-degree angle. A spotlight illuminated the entire area. The place served its purpose—a virtual fortress.

  “Harv, I’m going to pretend to light a cigarette. Stay behind me and take a look at the camera.”

  Harv pulled a compact pair of field glasses from his front pocket and focused on the door.

  Nathan lit a match and brought it up to his face.

  Harv relayed what he saw. “The camera’s cable goes straight up the wall and disappears over the parapet. Looks like standard coaxial. There’s also some sort of doorbell button with an intercom speaker below it.”

  “Do you see a security peephole?”

  “No.”

  “Let’s position you right there, at the southwest corner of the warehouse while I rig the video bypass. At a full sprint, you’re only five to six seconds from the front door. You can duck behind those recycle containers if you see anyone. Okay, let’s circle around to the opposite side of the warehouse and take a look.” They turned right at a narrow alley lined by bigger warehouses. “I don’t like the look of this alley. It’s too narrow. Ten yard separation.” Nathan continued while Harv and Grangeland stayed put.

  “I’m on your six with Grangeland. I’ll wait between these white delivery vans before moving out.”

  “Copy,” Nathan said. He smelled the air and didn’t detect any cigarette smoke, but on his left, there were dozens of butts in the alley below a small loading dock.

  “I’m in motion,” Harv said.

  He clicked his radio and kept moving down the alley. “After I turn the corner up here, I’m going to hold my position between the buildings until I see you.”

  “Copy.”

  “Grangeland, let Harv advance and cover his six. From there, he’ll cover your advance. Let us know if you see or hear any vehicles coming.”

  “Copy.”

  Fifteen seconds later, Nathan saw Harv round the corner. “I’ve got you. I’ll advance to the next alley and turn south. Grangeland, move up to Harv’s position. I’ll be holding at the fenced truck yard on the east side of our warehouse.”

  “Copy,” Harv said. Grangeland also copied.

  He didn’t like being under the streetlight for the brief trek into the alley, but didn’t think anyone would be out and about in this neighborhood. Still, the graffiti concerned him. Gang tags. No doubt this was claimed turf. He smelled the air again—nothing.

  “Okay, I’m at the northwest corner of our target’s fenced yard. There’s an old fishing boat on blocks to my left.”

  “I’ve got you.”

  He waited for Harv and Grangeland. They formed up and huddled in the shadow of a cargo container. “I only saw two cameras. One covering the front door and one covering the rear loading dock. The building’s tall enough to have a second floor office.”

  “Concur,” Harv said.

  They circled back to the narrow alley bordering the rear of the warehouse to the east and stopped out of camera shot at the northeast corner of the fenced truck yard.

  Harv spoke quietly. “If anyone runs, they’ll come out that fire exit and head straight for the open gate.”

  “This position isn’t going to work,” Grangeland said. “There’s no place to hide if a car comes by. I should use that fishing boat behind us. It’s a little farther away, but it should be okay.”

  “Nate?” Harv asked.

  “Sounds good, but don’t move from that position without telling us. We want to know where you are at all times. If anyone bolts, give a verbal command to get on the ground. If they make a threatening move, drop ’em. You’re only watching the rear of the warehouse until I finish the video splice.”

  “Understood.”

  “Okay, let’s hustle back to our vehicles. We can’t walk along this alley without being seen by the camera. We’ll have to detour to the east by half a block.”

  Back at Harv’s Mercedes, they went over the plan one final time.

  “Grangeland, grab your change of clothes. At a full sprint, how long will it take you to get from the fishing boat to Harv’s position at the southwest corner of the warehouse using the route we just took? Best guess?”

  “Thirty seconds.”

  “Okay. Everyone ready? Here we go.”

  Chapter 27

  An uncertain part of tonight’s operation involved bypassing the surveillance camera eyeing the front door. Nearly everything hinged on Nathan’s belief that the monitor wouldn’t be continuously watched.

  “Grangeland, once again, your threat area is only the rear of the warehouse. Harv will cover the west and south, I’ll take the north. I’ll have a clear view if anyone approaches from that direction.”

  “Understood.” She hustled down the street and disappeared into the shadows.

  “Harv, I’ll circle around to the north corner of the building again. I’ll take the exact same route and radio when I’m in place.” He pulled his gloves a little snugger and grabbed the duffel.

  Thirty seconds later, Harv stayed behind at the southwest corner of the warehouse while Nathan entered the alley with the white delivery vans. If anyone drove by, Harv could duck behind the recycle bins next to the warehouse.

  Halfway down the alley, he heard a door open on his left.

  Crap!

  The timing couldn’t have been worse. He had no cover. If he ran for the containers twenty yards distant, he’d be seen for sure.

  “Harv, I’m busted,” he whispered. “Stand by.”

  “Should I advance?”

  “Not yet.”

  He heard his radio click once.

  He began a slow shuffle, pretending to struggle with the bag. He switched the strap to his left shoulder to free up his right hand and began mumbling to himself, mixing in some foul words. No more than thirty feet away, three men stepped onto an elevated loading dock, lit cigarettes, and stared like caged gorillas.

  He hoped the smeared face paint would enhance the act. “Spare ’nee change?”

  The voice hissed an expletive, then, “Get lost, pendejo.”

  Perfect. He didn’t respond and kept going. The dim light kept them from seeing the wire leading up to his ear. If they changed their minds and approached, he’d have a fight on his hands. Although he could easily handle them, sooner or later their absence might be noticed and all bets would be off.

  “Quick thinking, Nate. They buy it?”

  “So far,” he whispered. He continued his snail’s pace, feeling three pairs of eyes bore into his back and the duffel bag. “I’m almost to the corner.”

  Without looking back, he rounded the corner and hurried toward the cover of a big rig parked on the curb. “Harv, wait one. I’m going to make sure I’m not being followed. Sixty seconds. Grangeland, your location?”

  “I’ll be at the fishing boat in ten seconds.”

  He gave her a click.

  He ducked deeper into the shadow of the truck’s cab and kept his eyes on the corner.

  A car approached from the west.

  The shadows cast from the truck’s wheels moved in a sweeping motion from left to right as the car sped past.


  The smokers from the alley didn’t appear.

  He crossed under the streetlight and entered the alley leading to the warehouse. Half a minute later, he was flat against the warehouse’s northern wall.

  “Harv, I’m in place. I’ll contact you from the roof.”

  “Copy.”

  “Grangeland?”

  “Copy.”

  Nathan pulled a grappling hook with twenty feet of knotted, half-inch nylon rope from the duffel and coiled the rope. The bag also contained a small car battery, an inverter, two compact DVD players, two disks, and seventy feet of coaxial cable. His front pockets contained all the tools and parts necessary to splice into a coaxial line.

  He moved to the midpoint of the north wall and swung the grappling hook. It caught on the parapet. He tested its anchor. Firm. Next, he tied the end of the grappling hook’s rope to the strap of the duffel bag. Once on the roof, he’d be able to haul the bag up.

  Scaling a vertical wall by rope required strength and skill, especially near the top, but he’d done this exact kind of climb more times than he could remember. It took him less than twenty seconds.

  At the top, a sudden wave of dizziness nailed him. The concussion.… He took a knee and steadied himself against the parapet. Precious seconds were passing. Lightheaded or not, he had to keep working. He assessed his battle readiness at roughly 80 percent. Not great, but acceptable. With a little luck and a lot of skill, this would all be over in the next ten minutes. He ignored the throbbing above his ear and pulled the duffel up to his position, then took a few seconds to scan the immediate rooftops. No one was present.

  Staying as close to the parapet as possible to avoid making the roof creak, he traversed over to a position directly above the front door. If any pedestrians or vehicles approached, he’d be able to lie flat and use the parapet for cover. Several buildings distant, a tomcat wailed into the night. Another issued a challenge in return. A sliver moon gave the roof’s galvanized vents a dull, silvery glow. Mixed with the noxious odor of roofing tar, he caught the scent of cigarettes from the men in the alley he’d seen earlier.

  “I’m in place above the front door,” he whispered. “I’m going to bypass the camera. If the video feed is being constantly monitored, they’ll come out to check the interruption. Harv, we’ll use that opportunity to gain entry. I’ll drop down from the roof using the rope while you rush in from the south. Grangeland, if that happens you stay put and watch for runners. Deadly force only if warranted. These may not be Montez’s men.”

  “Copy,” Harv said.

  “Grangeland?”

  “Copy.”

  Nathan took a deep breath, aware that the interior TV monitor would be snowy or blank during the brief interruption. Holding a tiny LED flashlight in his mouth, he worked quickly but carefully. No one came out to investigate the loss of signal. So far, so good. It took just under three minutes to make two plug-and-play connections in the existing coaxial line and get the battery and inverter set up for use. He plugged the cable from the camera into the first DVD’s input feed and the opposite end of the cable into the output feed. The DVD recorder was now connected between the camera and the monitor inside the warehouse.

  Nathan inserted a disk, hit the record button, and looked at his watch.

  “Video splice complete, recording normal scene.”

  “Copy.”

  “I’m going to give it seven minutes.”

  Harv clicked the radio.

  If anyone happened to look at the interior monitor, they’d see what they normally saw, an empty alley. The next phase of his plan involved recording Grangeland standing at the door for approximately three to four minutes. He hoped that would be long enough. If anyone were inside, they ought to be able to answer within that time frame. What if no one answered at all? What then? Did they ram the door? They didn’t have the resources for a prolonged stakeout and even if they did, how long would they have to wait? Hours? Days? Weeks? Not an option. Nichole Dalton and her daughters could be in there. If no one answered, they’d break in, glean what they could, and bug out.

  “I’m almost ready. I’m going to feed the normal scene through the line.” Nathan pressed the play button. Anyone on the inside would now see the seven minutes of empty alley he’d just recorded. He plugged the camera’s end of the cable into the second DVD recorder and inserted the second disk. “Grangeland, advance.”

  “On my way.”

  She called it pretty close. Thirty-three seconds later, Harv reported her arrival at his location.

  Nathan heard Grangeland say, “No peeking.” She must’ve purposefully keyed her mike for that comment.

  Harv said, “The thought never crossed my mind.”

  “Okay, okay, you guys. Grangeland?”

  “One minute.”

  It was a long minute.

  Nathan watched her approach the front door. She looked striking, even in the outer reaches of the security spotlight. She’d swapped her pants, sweatshirt, and ballistic vest for her altered gym outfit. The legs were cut just below her butt and she’d cut the top just below her breasts. It didn’t look like she had anything on under the skintight outfit.

  Damn! He hoped the men inside wouldn’t notice her missing high heels. He knew they’d never see the tiny wire leading up to her ear. The camera mounted above the door wasn’t HD. Her image on the interior television screen would be average-to-poor clarity—definitely not doing her justice. As long as she didn’t turn around, they wouldn’t see the radio.

  “Harv, stand by. Grangeland’s almost in place. Grangeland, I’m hitting record… now. You’re on.” He peered over the parapet as Grangeland did her thing. She rocked back and forth, swiveling her hips and running her hands across her chest. She leaned forward and blew a kiss toward the door.

  “Grangeland, for cryin’ out loud. They’re going to blow their—” He stopped himself. He just couldn’t say it.

  She eased off a little. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I’m going to keep recording for another two minutes or so. You’re doing fine.” He couldn’t watch the rest—couldn’t afford this mental distraction right now.

  A few minutes later he said, “Okay, Grangeland, we’re good.” He ejected the disk so it would start from the beginning when reinserted. He unplugged the feed from the first DVD and plugged it into the second DVD. Next, he disconnected the live camera feed, inserted the Grangeland disk into the second DVD, and pressed play. If anyone looked at the camera’s monitor, they’d see Grangeland’s prerecorded action, not the real action outside the door. Since there was no peephole, they wouldn’t be able to differentiate the real scene from the prerecorded scene.

  “Harv, we’re on. Grangeland, suit back up.”

  She sprinted to the corner of the warehouse.

  He secured the grappling hook to the parapet and descended the rope. Once on the ground, he coiled the rope and threw it over the top. If anyone drove by, he didn’t want them seeing it.

  Ninety seconds later, Grangeland and Harv were at the front door ready to go.

  A thumping music beat emanated from inside—probably rap.

  He looked at Harv and they pulled suppressed Sigs from their belly packs. Nathan wasn’t worried about the 9-millimeter subsonic rounds being powerful enough. They’d used them many times and never had a problem. Body armor protected against center-mass shots, but he didn’t expect his adversaries would be wearing any, especially inside the warehouse. Besides, he and Harv were quite capable of making head shots if needed.

  “Lasers on. Harv, you take the right. Grangeland, you’ve got the left. I’ll take the middle of the room. We need prisoners. Grangeland, your weapon isn’t suppressed, so hold your fire unless absolutely necessary.”

  He pressed the doorbell button.

  It produced a muffled ring like an oversized egg timer.

  On the left side of the door, he flattened himself against the wall.

  Harv tucked in tight behind him.

 
The location of the doorknob and the exterior jamb indicated the door would swing inward, toward the right. If anyone cracked the door, he and Harv were on the concealed side. The door would have to be opened at least twelve inches for anyone to peer out and look in their direction. By then it would be too late.

  The Spanish accent from the tiny speaker next to the door sounded metallic and slightly amused. “What you want?”

  “I got stood up down the street. Let’s party.”

  “Go away.”

  “Come on, man, it’s cold out here. I need the money. Hundred bucks for all night.”

  A pause. “What do we get?”

  “Everything.”

  “All of us?”

  “How many?”

  “Four.”

  “Make it two hundred and you got a deal.”

  Another pause. They were probably discussing it.

  A few seconds later, he heard the dead bolt click.

  Then a scraping, metallic sound of something else sliding.

  The door swung inward.

  Chapter 28

  The staccato thumping of rap music poured out the door and slammed every building in the alley. Nathan slid past Grangeland and kicked the door.

  The man on the other side flew backward as its metal surface hammered his face. The handgun he’d been holding clattered away.

  Nathan rushed inside with Harv and Grangeland on his six. He sensed Harv boot the door and heard it slam closed.

  Blood gushing from his destroyed nose, the man tried to get up.

  Nathan pistol-whipped him, the impact loud and wet. Door man went limp and collapsed to the concrete floor. It wasn’t Montez.

  He caught movement on his right.

  Another man.

  Running. Right to left. Without a shirt. Short. Muscular. Heavy gold chains flopped as he sprinted across the room. Also not Montez.

  “I’ve got him,” Harv said.

  Nathan watched a red dot form on the running man’s hip.

  Harv’s Sig spit flame.

  Gold chains tumbled. The wounded man howled and clasped a hand on his left hip.