by Dee Davis
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. So we’ll split up and meet in back unless we find a way in.”
“Okay.” She nodded, suppressing a smile, already moving toward the metal stairs.
“Hang on,” he said, his fingers closing around her shoulder as she turned again to face him. “I want you to keep your eyes open. All right? If there was someone here, I think they’d already have shown themselves, but it never hurts to be too cautious.”
“I’ll be careful,” she replied, her eyes meeting his. “I promise.” She smiled, and he relaxed his grip, knowing that he had no right to try to hold her back, and yet still wanting to be the one to protect her. It was a modern-day conundrum. But he knew he had to let her go.
“So if you do find a way in,” he said as she started down the stairs, “hold position and wait for me. Got it?”
“Loud and clear.” She stopped, giving a mock salute, and then took the final two stairs and disappeared around the south corner of the building.
Still fighting misgivings about leaving her on her own, Simon headed around the north end, moving in a crouch, gun at the ready. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of the harbor. The plaintive cry of a seagull, the tremulous bass of a tugboat, and the hollowed-out clanging of rigging against masts floating across the water from the boat basin on the Manhattan side.
Otherwise it was quiet, the shadows starting to lengthen as the sun set behind him. The passageway between the two warehouses was narrow, a battered hurricane fence separating them. He moved forward, stopping once to check out a locked door, also barred from the inside, and then to examine what looked to be the entrance to a cellar. It, too, proved to be securely closed without offering a way in.
The building’s windows, some of them tantalizingly broken, ran along the upper floor, with no easy access. Even with a ladder, they’d be difficult to reach, and the few scattered crates he’d found were too rotten to hold his weight even if carefully stacked.
Hopefully J.J. was having more luck. She’d always been the innovative one. He remembered once when he and Ryan had been goaded into accepting a hare-brained challenge issued by some upperclassmen, it had been J.J. who’d figured out how to accomplish the task without breaking their necks.
Close by campus there was a railroad tunnel running through the surrounding hillside. Extending about half a mile, it was old and narrow, but still in use. And it wasn’t uncommon for kids to try to traverse it, the risk being that if you were caught by a train, there was nowhere to hide. Of course there were schedules, but the trains, mostly carrying cargo, were never on time.
Anyway, he and Ryan had set out for the tunnel, arriving at one end, the upperclassmen waiting at the other. It had been late at night, but only fifteen minutes before the train was due. J.J. had shown up just as they were starting out. Ryan had waved her off, saying that the tunnel was no place for a girl, but she’d ignored him, instead presenting them with a blueprint of the tunnel she’d found somewhere online.
The salient point was that there was a catwalk above the tracks, and by accessing it, they could walk the tunnel without fear of being caught by the train. And that’s exactly what they’d done. All three of them.
And when, about ten minutes in, the train arrived—early—they’d held position, waiting for it to pass. He could still see J.J.’s eyes sparkling in the beam of their flashlights, her hair blowing behind her, exhilaration etched across her face as the train rumbled by beneath them. Watching her unadulterated joy had almost been more rewarding than seeing the frightened faces of the upperclassmen when they’d finally emerged from the tunnel, sans J.J., who’d gone back the way they’d come so that he and Ryan wouldn’t lose face.
Jillian might have changed her name, but she was still the same woman. He’d been lucky to have her in his life then, and he was lucky that she was here now. No matter what lay between them.
With a sharp exhalation, Simon pulled his thoughts away from the past, focusing on the here and now. He’d reached the end of the warehouse with nothing at all to show for it. The backside, like the front, sported two bays. But the doors here were rusted, the salty sea air chiseling away at them.
There was no sign of J.J. And after a thorough check, no way to open either of the back bay doors, despite their dilapidated state. The smaller door, however, was another matter. It was standing open, its padlock lying on the ground in pieces.
He hadn’t heard a shot, which meant that it couldn’t have been J.J. So that meant that someone had broken in before them. Frowning, he ignored the urge to head inside for a look, remembering that he’d promised J.J. he’d wait. So instead, careful not to turn his back to the opening, he moved to the far corner of the building to check for her.
There was no one there. And suddenly, his mind trotted out the image of J.J heading up the stairs to Lester’s apartment, leading with his gun—a Glock 19, complete with silencer.
Damn it all to hell. He’d told her to wait.
A rush of irritation pushed away all thoughts of her ingenuity as he headed back to the door, the evidence clear now that he knew what he was looking for. J.J. had shot off the lock. And then, clearly disobeying orders, she’d gone inside without him.
CHAPTER 14
The warehouse was dark, the back entrance leading to a warren of hallways and deserted office space. Jillian knew she should have waited for Simon, but once she’d opened the door, the lure had been too much. She promised herself she wouldn’t go far. Just a quick look and then she’d double back and wait.
He’d always hated her impetuous side, warning that it was going to get her in trouble one day. But so far, life had proved him wrong. It was only when she’d elected to play it safe that she’d wound up in trouble.
Maybe if she hadn’t been so quick to take a backseat to Ryan… but there was no point in what if-ing herself to death. She sure as hell wasn’t going to let herself wind up in that position again. She inched forward, gun still drawn. The irony of her thoughts didn’t escape her. In electing to walk away from Simon and whatever it was that had happened last night, she was taking the safe route. The risk was Simon.
So maybe she wasn’t so fearless after all.
Ahead of her, a shadow moved, and she strained, listening for some sign that someone was out there. But everything was quiet. She reached for a light switch, but the light above flickered once, popped, and then went black again.
So she took another step forward, stopping at the corner, her heart pounding in her chest, everything seeming overly loud in the still of the warehouse. Back to the wall, she counted to three and then swung into the intersecting hallway.
It was empty, the fading light from a window at the end of the passageway making the lengthening shadows seem to shimmy. She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, relief making her giddy.
Then something behind her shifted, the sound of leather against concrete sending her spinning around, gun leveled at the darkened hallway she’d just left.
“Don’t shoot.” Simon stepped from the shadows, one hand raised. “It’s just me.”
“Mother of God, Simon, I could have killed you.” She lowered the Glock, her hand shaking. “What the hell were you doing sneaking up on me like that?”
“Trying to figure out where the hell you’d gone.” Even though they were whispering, she could hear the anger in his voice. “I told you to wait for me.”
“I know.” She shook her head in apology. “But I figured I’d just a have a quick look while I waited.”
“Rookie mistake,” he said, his mouth drawn tight, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “And a surefire way to get yourself killed.”
“I’m sorry.” She took a step toward him. “I should have waited. I guess I got a little carried away.”
“You think?” he said, as he came to stand beside her. “Look, J.J., I’m not trying to bust your chops. I just want you to be careful.”
“And I was—being careful, I mean. I was only going t
o come a little way in and then go right back. You just got here sooner than I expected. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. This place may be empty but it still gives me the creeps.”
“You see anything at all?” he asked, his jaw relaxing.
“No. So far all the rooms I’ve passed have been empty.”
“Which means we were right, and the place is deserted.”
“Maybe,” she acknowledged, “but there’s not a lot of dust or debris either. Basically, compared to the outside condition, this place is clean as a whistle, which wouldn’t be the case if it had truly been empty for a long time.”
“You think someone has been in here to empty the place out?”
“It’s possible, or maybe they just didn’t need the offices. If they were simply using this place to offload cargo, then they probably wouldn’t have use for any additional space. Just the storage area.”
“All right then, let’s check it out. I’m guessing this hallway should open out into the warehouse proper.”
“Any word from Avery?” she asked.
“No. But I’m not getting any cell reception. Must be something to do with the water. Or the buildings. Or maybe it’s just a dead zone. How about you?”
She pulled her phone from her pocket and turned it on. “You’re right. I don’t have any bars either.”
“It shouldn’t matter. He’ll see our SUV when he gets here, so he’ll know we’ve gone inside.”
A cloud drifted across what was left of the sun, the hallway growing even darker. “We’re losing daylight fast,” Simon said. “I think we’d best get moving if we want to be able to see where we’re going.”
“Agreed.” She tightened her hand on her gun as they moved forward, Simon turning on his tac-light so that they could better see the hallway in front of them.
There were a couple more empty rooms and a final passageway that led off toward the north side of the building and more offices. Then, at the end of the hallway, a set of double doors that presumably opened out into the warehouse itself.
Simon held a hand up to stop her from pushing through the doors, switching off his tac-light. “Better we go in dark,” he said. “Just in case. Once we’re sure it’s clear, I’ll turn the tac-light back on again.”
She nodded and moved so that her back was to the adjacent wall. He did the same on the other side and then with a silent count of three, they swung through the doors, weapons drawn.
The movement of the doors sent a few stray pieces of paper scuttling across the floor. But nothing else moved. “Looks like we’re alone,” Simon said, holding up his hand to stop her as she moved toward the light switch. “Better let me make sure first. You stay here.”
The room was probably half the size of a football field, with a vaulted ceiling, exposed rafters, and at strategic intervals, the large concrete and steel beams that supported the structure. On three sides, there was metal grating that made up the floor of a loft of sorts. A staircase about halfway along the far wall provided access.
Simon made his way slowly around the perimeter of the building, and Jillian kept her eyes trained on the grating overhead. There was still no sign of life, except for the occasional soft scurrying of what she could only assume were rats.
Jillian kept a tight hold on her gun, only relaxing when Simon called “clear,” striding across the warehouse again, this time stopping to flip on the lights. The overhead lighting didn’t do much to eliminate the shadows, but it had the same effect as whistling in the dark, and Jillian lowered her gun, bending to pick up a piece of paper on the floor.
“Anything?” Simon asked, coming to stand beside her, his nearness comfortable and unsettling all at the same time.
“No.” She shook her head, reminding herself that she wasn’t a teenager anymore. “Just an old takeout menu. Feel like a burger?”
He shot her a smile and then turned full circle, his eyes still scanning for any signs of activity. “There are some crates over there. Maybe they’ll yield something more interesting,” he said, already heading that way. Above them, the windows rattled as the wind picked up.
Jillian followed him, moving backward to keep an eye on the warehouse behind them. Better safe than sorry. “You find something?” she asked, as she drew nearer to Simon and the crates, her eyes still on the upper level of the warehouse.
“Nothing of value. The crates are empty except for some of the packing. And if there were bills of lading, they’re long gone.”
She lowered her gun and turned around for a look. “The synthetic straw looks similar to what we found inside the crates in the storage unit. But I’m figuring it’s pretty standard stuff.”
Simon reached out and lifted the first layer of straw. “It might not be hard proof, but these indentations definitely indicate there were weapons stored here.”
She shifted so that she could see better. “Machine guns?”
“Looks like it to me. PKs, maybe.”
“Russian, right? The same as the ones we found in the storage unit?”
“Yeah, and if I had to call it, the same as the ones we found in Afghanistan. Although without an actual weapon, there’s no way to know for certain.”
Behind them, the wind whistled through a broken window, the sound eerie in the half-light. Jillian spun around, lifting her gun again as more paper rattled across the floor.
“It’s nothing,” Simon said, his mind still on the empty crates. “Just the wind.”
“I know. But it’s still creepy.” She shivered despite herself, her eyes moving again over the upper level, not really certain what she was looking for. Then, when everything remained quiet, she bent down to retrieve the scrap of paper that had landed at her feet.
“Another menu?” Simon quipped, but Jillian shook her head, moving into his light so that she could see the writing more clearly.
“No. It’s a shipping label. For artwork. Some statues originating out of Malaysia.”
He moved over so that he could see, too, standing close enough that she could smell the sharp scent of his cologne and feel the rise and fall of his breathing. “Does it list a port of entry?”
“Not that I can see.” She frowned. “And there’s not a stamp or anything.”
“So how about an end destination?”
“That part’s been torn away. Along with the recipient’s name. But I can still make out the name of the shipper.” She moved the label farther into the light so that he could see it.
“Joseph Isaacs,” Simon said, lifting his gaze to meet hers. “Looks like we were right. Isaacs and Lester have been smuggling arms through this warehouse.”
Behind them, the harbor side bay doors rattled as one of them slid upward. Simon and Jillian swung around, almost in unison, Jillian reaching for her gun. But before she could take aim, she was blinded by several sharp beams of light. Blinking, she tried to figure out what was happening, but before she got the chance, something whizzed past her ear, and Simon grabbed her arm, jerking her down behind the crates.
“Looks like we’ve got company,” he said, “And they sure as hell aren’t a welcoming committee.” As if to underscore the point, a barrage of bullets strafed the floors and walls, some of them slamming into the crates they were hiding behind.
“So what do we do?” she asked, nervously clutching the Glock as another round of shots was fired.
“Fight back,” he said, as if it were the most obvious of choices. And she supposed for him, it was.
Sucking in a breath for fortification, she nodded, gun ready, waiting for Simon’s signal. His gaze locked with hers for a moment, and then he signaled “go.” Popping up from behind the crate, Jillian fired a couple of rounds in the direction of what she now recognized as car lights, praying that she’d managed to hit one of the bastards. Unfortunately, the lights made it impossible to see anything clearly.
Another bullet whizzed past her ear, and with a mumbled curse, she dropped back down beside Simon. “How many do you think there
are?”
“Judging from the trajectory, I’d say at least three of them. Maybe more. And if we can’t hold them off long enough to think of a way out, I’m afraid they’re going to close the distance.”
“How about ammo? I don’t suppose you have any extra.”
“I’ve got one extra clip. The rest is in the SUV, but they’ll cut us down before we can make it that far.” He nodded toward the front bays.
“So we’re trapped.”
“Looks like it,” he agreed, popping up to get off another round.
She followed suit, this time holding her shot until she saw a shadow detach from the bright lights. She thought she heard a gasp of pain. “I can’t be sure,” she said, as she dropped back beside Simon, “but I think maybe I hit one of them.”
“That’s my girl.” He grinned. “If we’re going to get out of this alive, we’ve got to make every shot count.”
“The lights make it impossible to see.”
“So we even the odds. You any good at sharpshooting?”
“With this?” She raised an eyebrow as she looked down at the Glock. “I wouldn’t hold your breath. But I did manage to hit the guy, so what have you got in mind?”
“Shooting out the lights. It’ll mean using a fair amount of the shots we have left, but if we can manage to cut even one, it’ll help with visibility and make it that much harder for them to maneuver.”
“All right. Do we take turns or go for it all at once?”
“No guts, no glory.” Again she could see him smile, and with a silent count of three, they both pushed up from behind the crates, firing.
She could hear the answering barrage, but shut the sound out of her mind, concentrating instead on the beams of light. She heard the report from Simon’s gun, and one of the lights disappeared.
“Bingo,” he breathed, as she took her shot. Unfortunately, the light stayed the same. So she sucked in a breath and fired again. This time she heard the splintering of glass and another of the beams went black.
But the bullets were flying now, and she was forced to duck back behind the crate, the sound of metal burrowing into the wood making her stomach lurch.
