It is fortunate they are focused on each other and whatever topic has angered the woman. I am within an easy distance to the open office door. All it will take is a quick dash.
Suddenly there is a clatter that sounds like metal pipes bouncing against concrete. The sound echoes through the building. The four people outside the makeshift office spring instantly into motion. The Voice and the woman rush into the office and close the door. The two men fan out and head into the bowels of the building.
I know without doubt that it is Julia that made the noise and that she is now in grave danger. I must find her before these men do. My headlong rush to find The Voice has left her alone and vulnerable. I shall never forgive myself if any harm comes to her.
There was nothing in the outer office of the Fine Art and Antiques Shipping Company that suggested it was anything but a legitimate business. The ledger contained a log of ships, cargo manifests, and dates. The laptop was password protected which, in and of itself, wasn’t suspicious, only good business practice. Almost as soon as she opened the door to the interior of the building, Trouble had taken off like a flash. Now she would have to find him.
The warehouse was filled with row upon row of merchandise. Their height served to diminish the scant light that filtered in from the dirty narrow windows along the walls up near the high ceiling of the building. Julia read the logos stamped on the wooden crates as she worked her way toward the center of the structure.
She became aware that she wasn’t alone. There were faint voices coming from somewhere within the structure but the sound was distorted and she couldn’t determine the direction.
For a moment she stood still, trying to orient herself. She thought she knew where the door to the reception area was. Trouble had disappeared so quickly that he could be anywhere within the building. Her best bet, she decided, was to make her way to one wall and then follow it until she knew where she was and pray she found the cat before either of them were discovered trespassing.
When she reached the far wall she could hear the voices more distinctly. They were speaking Russian. She knew the basics of the language as part of her study of Russian art and history. To know it was one thing, to follow a conversation was another. The rapid exchange only allowed her catch a few key words but she clearly heard a man say something about a watch, diamonds, and money.
She was straining to follow the exchange more closely and she leaned around a pallet of crates to look down the corridor from which the voices came. Far down the building she could see the arm of a man who gestured as he spoke. She inched out a little further and all heck broke loose. Her shoulder caught a lone metal pipe sticking out from a row of three-inch pipes stacked on top of some wooden crates. She was helpless to stop the following cascade onto the cement floor. The clatter was deafening. The pounding of her heart was almost as loud.
The fight or flight response took over Julia’s body and she ran from the scene of chaos and zig zagged between the towers of crates. Her heart was beating rapidly and she was breathing heavily when she saw a small opening where excess pallets had been stacked on top of each other. She worked her way between them and fought to control the sound of her breathing. What was she to do now?
She could hear footsteps passing on the other side of the stack of pallets. Through the open woodwork of the pallets she could see a man, a gun cradled in his arms. He stopped in the aisle and listened. Julia closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. When she opened them the man was staring directly at her. She almost cried out in fright but quickly realized that although he stared in her direction, the low light and maze of the haphazardly stacked pallets shielded her from view.
Finally, the man moved on. Julia felt weak in the knees. She strained to hear what direction he had taken. How many of them were there? She concentrated on the exchange she had overheard. At least two men and a woman, she decided. Okay, she knew at least one of the men had a gun and it was a very serious gun. She could only assume the other man was armed. Perhaps the woman was as well. She couldn’t discount the possibility.
The first thing she had to do was figure a way out of the building. There was Trouble to worry about but he was a smart cat. Surely he would keep out of harms way until she could return with help. The thought of what Mitch would have to say about her little escapade made her cringe. He had been right. Between him and her father she was in for a real tongue lashing. There was no time to worry about that now. She needed to act quickly before whoever these people were sent for reinforcements to search the warehouse.
Julia eased out of her hiding place and looked up and down the narrow pathway. She stood still, closed her eyes, and listened to the sounds of the building. She thought she could still hear the progress of the man with the gun. The sun was at an angle that illuminated an aisle two rows over. It was wider than the others and she thought it might lead her to the reception area. She crept to a pathway one removed from this main aisle and, keeping close to the stacks of containers, made her way toward what she thought to be the front of the building.
Cautiously Julia peaked around the stack of crates stamped with a crown encircled with a garland of flowers. She could see the door to the reception area. No sound reached her ears. This was her chance. She sprinted from the safety of the shadowy protection of the crates and grasped the doorknob. It was locked. Her heart sank with dismay as a heavily accented voice just behind her said, “Going somewhere?”
It was the man with the gun. Julia felt the blood leave her head and for a moment she felt a little faint. Before she could respond, another man stepped from the shadows to the right of the door and said, “Hello, Julia.”
Julia jerked around at the sound of Viktor Letov’s voice. She was speechless.
“Has the cat got your tongue?” he asked.
Julia cleared her throat. “Hello, Doug.”
He smiled, that same wolfish smile she remembered from their first date. “Come, come, Julia. Surely Mitch has told you my story by now.”
She remained silent.
“Why are you here?”
“I’m looking for Renee Slovaska.”
His looked pensive for a moment. “Very well. Come and meet her.”
With that he linked her arm through his and turned her back into the bowels of the building.
The woman sitting behind the desk in the bumped-out office at the rear of the building looked up from the paper shredder she was feeding. She rose to her feet. “What are you doing? Why is she here?”
Viktor gestured for Julia to have a seat. She remained standing. The man with the gun stood behind her. He shoved her into the chair. Viktor cast an annoyed look in the man’s direction then focused his attention on Renee Slovaska.
“This is Ms. Julia Hampton of the Hampton Detective Agency.” He smiled down at Julia. “She wanted to meet you.”
“I know who she is,” Renee Slovaska snarled. “I just don’t know why she’s here, in my office.” She turned off the paper shredder. “This complicates everything. Now we will have to deal with her.”
“Since she was snooping around the warehouse, we were going to have to deal with her anyway,” Viktor said.
Renee grabbed a stapler from the desk and threw it against the opposite wall. “Imbecile! It’s one thing to suspect, and quite another to prove. You’ve played right into their hands.”
“We’ve moved way past suspicion, dearest step-sister, and now we not only have Juliette broadcasting all she knows, but now this one.”
“Another idiotic mistake. When are you going to start thinking with your head!”
Julia glanced at the man with the gun in the hope he was distracted by the bickering between Viktor and Renee. No such luck. He stared back at her, a knowing look in his eyes as if he dared her to try to run. She lowered her gaze and saw just beside the waste basket in the corner of the room the curl of a long black tail. She quickly averted her eyes.
Renee picked up her cell phone and read a text. “The car will be here in a
couple of minutes. Take care of this mess and meet me at the rendezvous.” She withdrew her purse from a bottom drawer of the desk. “If you’re late we’re taking off without you.”
Julia listened to the sound of Renee’s retreating footsteps with a growing sense of dread. The room became very quiet. She glanced up to see Viktor studying her. He smiled when he caught her eye. “Don’t worry, doll. No one’s going to hurt you.”
“But Vik…” the man with the gun started to argue.
Viktor held up his hand in a gesture for silence. “Ms. Hampton is the daughter of a very wealthy man, Grunt.” He folded his arms across his chest and swayed back on his heels. “Let me emphasize wealthy. Not rich, not loaded, but wealthy. Do you understand the difference?” He shrugged. “Never mind. The point is, what do you think will happen if any harm comes to the only child of a very wealthy and powerful man?”
The gunman shifted from foot to foot. “Renee said…”
“I know what Renee said. She’s upset. She hasn’t thought this thing through.” He paused for a long moment. “The Feds need me and so far that’s worked in our favor. I even think, with a little cooling off, they’ll come to appreciate me again.”
The gunman remained silent.
“I like to keep my options open. So, here’s what we’re going to do.” He grinned at Julia. “Let’s give Ms. Hampton a nice quiet place to contemplate the cost of sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“Not here in the warehouse.”
“No. This is too easy. If she found it, they’ll be on to it soon.”
“So where?”
Viktor ignored the question. He held out his arm to Julia. When she drew back from him his left eyebrow shot up and he shook his head. “This could be a lot uglier than it has to be, Julia. Do yourself a favor and come along like a good girl.”
Julia felt a sense of reprieve that Letov didn’t see any advantage in killing her. She hesitated then took his arm. It was pointless to resist, she reasoned. She could either go to her confinement in one piece or she could go there lame and incapacitated. Those were her choices for there was no hope of escaping two violent criminals armed with a rapid repeat gun. She chose to rely on her wits and a sound body.
Viktor looked over his shoulder at the gunman and nodded. The rapid firing of the gun into the computer tower made Julia jump and squeak in fear. Viktor patted her hand where her grip had tightened on his arm. “Just a little housekeeping, Julia. Nothing to be alarmed about.”
The leisurely attitude Viktor had displayed up to this moment changed. He propelled her quickly through the building and out a door into a back lane behind a row of buildings identical to the one that housed the Fine Art and Antiques Shipping Company. The gunman followed close on their heels.
Julia couldn’t stop herself from glancing back. She caught a glimpse of Trouble as he tacked behind them. The gunman turned to see what had caught her eye and fired a single shot at Trouble. Julia gave another little squeak and Letov swore as he quickened their pace to almost a run.
“Idiot! It’s just a damn cat!”
They rounded the building on the end of the row and there stood a line of empty cargo containers. Letov opened the second in the line and shoved Julia inside. He brushed his hair back with both hands and straightened his jacket. “It’ll be cool again tonight but I think you’ll be safe enough from the elements in here.” He started to turn away from her then grinned. “Go ahead and bang and yell all you want. It’s the weekend.” The grin turned into laughter. “You won’t disturb a soul.” With that he slammed the door closed and drove the lock home.
Julia sank to her knees and started trembling. She was safe, after a fashion. Now that the imminent danger of the last twenty minutes was over, she gave in to a debilitating lethargy. She sat there until the quaking inside began to ease off. When she could focus her mind, she began to assess her situation.
The gunman had shot at Trouble. Julia didn’t know if he had hit his mark or not because Letkov had jerked her along the path. Tammy Lynn was going to be furious with her. They would both be heartbroken if the Grunt’s aim had been true.
She glanced around the dim interior of the container. It was old, rusted in spots, and not air tight. She could see pinpoints of light where the hinges of the doors attached to the structure, and along the seams of a vent high in the wall at the front of the oblong structure. She got to her feet. It was time to get herself out of this mess.
Chapter Nine
Mitch had gone another round with the lovely Juliette, she of the orangey-red lipstick and tight spandex. The only revelation there was that she was terrified to return to Tampa.
He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had had little sleep since Julia Hampton entered his life and Woodrow Hampton’s words were becoming a self-fulfilling prophesy. Peter Ryder was missing, Trip Youngblood had been murdered, Viktor Letov had vanished, and now, Viktor’s compatriot, known fondly in criminal circles as the Grunt, had also slipped his surveillance. The Marshals’ Service did not look like the highly-trained, proficient law enforcement body it was touted to be.
He couldn’t worry about that at the moment. The tarnish on the Service’s star was the least of his concerns. He opened his eyes and took the file folder from his desk. It was time to see what Debbie Williams, claim secretary of the Weatherby Insurance Agency, knew about all this business.
She was an attractive woman, Mitch thought as he entered the interview room. A little older than what Viktor usually gravitated toward for his many trysts, but still an angle worth exploring. Viktor liked the ladies and the ladies, at least for a while, liked Viktor. According to Sandra, the receptionist, it had been their joint idea, her and Debbie’s, to post Viktor’s profile on the dating site, Couples Connection.
“Sorry to drag you down here so early, Ms. Williams.” Mitch pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. “Did anyone offer you coffee, or something else to drink?”
“I’m floating in coffee, Deputy. I was hustled out of bed and brought down here only to sit and wait for hours. What’s going on?”
Mitch opened the file and picked up a photo of Viktor Letov. “You know who this is?”
She glanced down at the photo. “Of course. That’s Doug Heinz. We work together.”
“How long have you known him?”
She gave her head a small shake and shrugged. “I don’t know, nine, ten months. Less than a year.”
“How did you meet him?”
“At work.” She frowned. “Look, what’s this about? I was due at the office an hour ago. No one here will even let me call to tell them where I am.” She was working herself up to righteous indignation. “They took my cell phone.” She hesitated. “Can they do that? Just take my cell phone?”
“A man was killed last night.” Mitch paused for affect. “Murdered.”
The woman paled. “Doug is dead!”
Mitch pulled another photograph from the file. It was a head shot of Trip Youngblood as he lay on the slab at the morgue. “How about this man? Do you know him?”
“No,” she shook her head, paused, “yes. Maybe.”
Mitch let the silence build as Debbie Williams took the photograph in her hands and looked at it more closely. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“I do know him but I don’t know his name.” Two parallel lines formed on her brow as she concentrated. “I’ve seen him with Mr. Weatherby, at the office. He may be a client of the agency, I don’t know, but he was in and out of the office several times a couple of months ago.”
She wouldn’t look at Mitch as she passed the photograph back to him. He took his time replacing it in the folder.
Debbie rested her hands on the table then lowered them to her lap. Her gaze traveled from the table top to the closed door then the mirror on the wall, never once coming to rest on Mitch.
Finally he broke the silence. “You work in the claims department at the Weatherby Insuran
ce Agency, correct?”
She nodded and looked down at her clasped hands.
“Does Doug Heinz work claims?”
Debbie cleared her throat. “No. He brokers coverage for high profile policies.”
“High profile?”
She shrugged. “Malpractice coverage for physicians, yachts, special events, expensive items not routinely covered by our normal policies.”
“Art, you mean? Jewelry?”
She nodded.
“Art exhibitions?”
She glanced up at him, paled, and looked quickly away.
Bingo, Mitch thought.
“Okay, Ms. Williams. We appreciate your patience and your help.” He stood and closed the file. “You can collect your phone from the front desk.”
Debbie Williams was out of her seat and out the door almost before he could settle back into his chair. Mitch sat, his arm resting across the closed file, and stared at the doorknob. After a moment he roused himself and left the room.
He retrieved his gun from his desk drawer. Jones came through the back door of the office as he was securing it in his shoulder harness. “Did they put a trace on Debbie Williams’ phone?”
Jones nodded.
“Any contact with Viktor since yesterday?”
“Yesterday morning was the last time he called her. She texted him just before noon to say she needed to talk to him. No response. Nothing today.”
“Put a tail on her. Get two men and another car with us. Chappie has had all the beauty sleep he’s going to get.”
Jones eyed Mitch, frowned, then nodded. “Right.” He took out his cell phone and placed a call.
The two extra deputies were deployed to the rear of Chappie’s house as Mitch and Jones approached the front door. Mitch rang the bell and they heard the faint echo of the chimes. He waited a second before he pounded on the door. There wasn’t a sound to be heard from the interior. He pounded again and was at the point of kicking it in when he heard the deadbolt turn. Both men had their guns at the ready when the door opened.
Trouble in Dixie (Familiar Legacy Book 2) Page 12
