by Kim McMahill
“Does anyone in the building ever work this late?”
“Never,” Preston replied.
“Let’s head down to Wiley’s office in the plant. I don’t want anyone to notice the lights on up here and call the authorities.”
“Good idea,” Preston replied unenthusiastically as he followed Sofia out of his office, turning off the lights as they exited.
Sofia held the stairwell door open for him and he passed through obediently. They descended flight after flight of stairs through a dark windowless corridor leading to a dark windowless facility.
“Why don’t we just take the elevator?” Preston asked.
Not responding, Sofia continued to follow Preston as they descended. The motion tightened his jacket across his back and she could see the outline of a shoulder holster, her suspicions for his confidence confirmed.
In Wiley’s office, the balance of power had shifted. Sofia took the seat behind the desk, leaving Preston no choice but to sit in the small, uncomfortable visitor’s chair.
“What now? How long do we wait?” Preston asked. “This place gives me the creeps at night, and this office is totally depressing.”
Sofia’s patience wore thin. She hated all the questions and complaining, but she was amused by his misplaced confidence. As he fidgeted in his chair across from her in Wiley’s office, she noticed him pat his chest, no doubt a subconscious movement seeking reassurance. Unfortunately for him, it wouldn’t change the outcome of their evening together.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Devyn had always been a light sleeper. Even though she had gone to bed very late and was exhausted, a faint sound brought her abruptly out of her slumber. The sound resembled a thud, like something being dropped, but since the noise caught her partially in and partially out of sleep, she couldn’t be sure. She lay still for a moment and listened.
Nothing.
Morgan’s house was built on a slab and completely tiled, so no floors would squeak under a person’s weight. She probably wouldn’t hear footsteps, and since there were two others in the house, the sound of footsteps wouldn’t necessarily mean anything was wrong.
The thought crossed her mind that maybe Nick was sneaking into Morgan’s room, and it made her smile. The notion quickly vanished from her mind as she detected a slight shuffling sound. Legitimate residents of the house wouldn’t be trying so hard to remain quiet and undetected.
Devyn slid silently out of bed and crouched on the floor, the mattress between her and the door. She reached toward the nightstand and felt around until her fingers closed over her Glock. Pulling the gun close to her chest, she waited, keeping below the mattress’s lumpy profile.
After a few seconds, a faint light fanned over the bed. The beam came closer and she held her breath. It could be Nick, but something told her it wasn’t. The movements weren’t quite right. Whoever this person was, he or she moved with the practiced skill of a successful thief.
She peeked under the bed and all she could see were legs clad in what looked to be camouflage pants and feet wearing black socks. Nick had been wearing blue jeans. She had heard the shower, so maybe he had changed, but she had never seen Nick in a pair of desert camo pants before.
As the light moved away, Devyn chanced a glimpse of the retreating shadow. She couldn’t see enough features to identify the person, but the body definitely belonged to a man other than Nick. The man wasn’t as tall, his shoulders weren’t as broad, and his hair was a couple shades darker.
She exhaled with relief as the beam swung toward the living room rather than in the direction of Morgan’s room. Confident the civilian—Morgan—was safe from the immediate threat, Devyn rose to her feet and closed the distance between her and the intruder. As he reached the end of the hallway, but before he had a clear view of the living room, Devyn raised her weapon.
“Freeze. Move a muscle and I’ll put a bullet between your shoulder blades,” Devyn stated in a calm, firm tone, yet loud enough to wake Nick.
As she assumed he would, Nick reacted quickly.
“Do as she says, and put the gun down slowly,” Nick demanded.
Devyn steadied her aim. Even though Nick looked ready and intimidating, she knew he was handicapped without his glasses. She heard the rustling of a hastily donned robe approaching from behind.
“Get back in your room, Morgan,” Devyn ordered.
“Put down your weapon,” Nick demanded again as he adjusted his position to ensure Devyn wasn’t in his trajectory’s path.
The man extended his hands in the air, gun pointed skyward, and turned slowly to face Devyn.
“Aaron,” Morgan gasped, as she stepped quickly backwards, trying to get out of his line of sight.
Taking advantage of the slight distraction caused by Morgan’s gasp, Aaron dove for cover behind the kitchen island. Nick fired. At such close range, the bullet went completely through Aaron’s shoulder and exited, shattering the sliding glass door behind him. Wasting no time, Aaron plunged through the weakened pane and disappeared into the darkness.
“I got this. Stay with her in case he doubles back,” Devyn shouted as she darted out into the night wearing only the shorts and t-shirt she slept in.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Aaron’s shoulder throbbed from the wound and blood soaked through his shirt as he ran into the darkness. He could hear footsteps behind him as someone crashed through the brush in pursuit. He ran harder, trying to put distance behind him and his tracker. After several minutes, the sounds grew fainter and eventually disappeared.
He had been running with nothing but the light of the stars and moon to guide him. Houses in this area were few and spaced far apart. Most had purposely avoided permanent exterior lighting to protect the night skies for stargazing. Thankfully, the natural light of a cloudless night was adequate for his initial getaway.
Risking a quick flick of his flashlight for a better look, Aaron realized he had unintentionally increased the distance between him and his car. He scanned the area, trying to get his bearings in order to head toward the road rather than further into the rough country.
Not far ahead, he spotted a rugged arroyo. Remembering he’d seen a small bridge near the trailhead and his car, he hoped this feature would not only provide him with cover, but might lead him back to his vehicle.
Without the aid of his tiny light, he took the most direct route to the edge of the deeply eroded arroyo. The banks were steep, so he sat and slid down into the depression. Locating a group of rocks, he stopped amidst their protective shadows to catch his breath and assess his wound.
His shirt was soaked with blood, but there wasn’t much he could do about that at the moment. He pressed his palm into the bullet hole, hoping to put enough pressure on the wound to stem the flow of blood. The pain in his shoulder and damage to his feet, protected only by his socks, was brutal. He forced the throbbing out of his mind and focused on this situation.
He listened closely for a few moments and heard nothing. He hoped his pursuer had returned for his or her shoes and a flashlight, depending on which person followed. He pulled out his cell, gritting his teeth in agony as he retrieved a number.
“Is it done?” were the first words which came through.
“No. I got a big problem. There was a man and woman in the house with her. I saw the woman and thought I could take care of her, but didn’t see the man until it was too late. I got hit. Everyone, including Morgan, saw my face. I think they must be some sort of law enforcement. Both were armed, and one came after me. I’m about fifteen minutes from where I left my car. If I can get there, where should I go?”
“I’m stunned by your incompetence. I trained you better than that,” Sofia said harshly. “How bad were you hit?”
“Shoulder. It’s bleeding a lot. In the daylight, I’m sure I’d be a cinch track. I got to get out of here before the sun comes up.”
“Get to your car. Once you’re on the road, call me back and I’ll have a plan by then.”
&
nbsp; “Okay.” Aaron disconnected and stowed his phone. He couldn’t hear anyone behind him.
“Maybe I’ve lost them,” he whispered through clenched teeth.
He stood still for a moment trying to get his breathing under control, but the pain made it difficult. Struggling to his feet, he switched on his light for just a few seconds to get oriented. He clicked it off, and after letting his eyes readjust to the darkness, he headed down the dry creek bed toward the road.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
“Was that Aaron? Is Morgan on her way?” Preston asked as he rose from the chair in Wiley’s basement office and began to pace.
“Aaron has run into some difficulties,” Sofia replied calmly.
“What kind of difficulties?”
Sofia ignored his frantic questions as she pressed J.R.’s number into her cell. She waited while the phone rang, dreading the call but needing information, and thought back to the first time she and Aaron had met.
He had tried to mug her and she had knocked him on his butt. With her spiked heel pressed into his chest, he didn’t look even the slightest bit rattled. He had been in a number of tough scrapes on Coterie’s behalf over the years, and he had never sounded scared, like now.
“Aaron’s been shot,” she said into the phone. “He doesn’t believe the injury is critical and he’s trying to escape as we speak. Normally, I’d have no doubt he could elude his pursuers, but not only is he injured, he thinks they may be law enforcement. We need to know if the authorities are involved. If so, it changes everything. Keep me apprised of the outcome.”
Sofia disconnected, leaned back in Wiley’s chair, and studied Preston’s nervous movements. The news had clearly shaken him. When he noticed her watching him, he sat back down, subconsciously patted his breast pocket area, and then placed his trembling hand to his side, sliding it under his thigh.
His eyes met hers and she saw fear. The man was so weak it made her wonder how he ever got involved with J.R. in the first place. She supposed it really didn’t matter anymore. For now, she needed to reassure him and keep him calm. An armed and frightened man was a dangerous combination.
“Okay, while we wait for news let’s make sure we’ve done adequate damage control. Has the entire stock of synthetic product been removed and destroyed?” Sofia asked.
“Yes, and we always have a small supply of the real thing on hand in case an inspector ever asks for a sample.”
“Good. If law enforcement gets a warrant, they must only find the authentic sweetener. How about documentation, is everything in order?”
“We’ve always ensured the books reflect that we’re purchasing enough ingredients to manufacture all the MFHG3 we would use in a year, if not more. This actually gives us a tax deduction a hundred and fifty times greater than we would get if we reported the cost associated with producing the synthetic. The synthetic is dirt cheap.”
“Good thinking. Now what about Aaron? If he’s caught, I’m not worried that he will speak of Coterie. My main concern is with how you will explain to the authorities why he went after Morgan.”
“She did tell me that she wanted to get rid of him. Maybe he found out, went berserk at the thought of losing his job, and went after her.”
“Hmm…might work,” Sofia replied as she softened her expression.
She could see by the way Preston’s posture relaxed he was no longer as frightened. His mind likely churned with thoughts on how he could explain Aaron’s behavior to the authorities and emerge from the fiasco unscathed. She’d let him hold on to that illusion if it kept him from cracking under the pressure.
“I’m getting hungry. Show me around. I assume there are plenty of microwavable entrees we can cook.”
As expected, Preston jumped at the suggestion, clearly anxious to get up and leave Wiley’s cramped office. In his haste, she noticed he left his cell phone sitting on the corner of the desk. She picked it up and slipped it into her pocket.
“We’ve got a mammoth freezer full of fantastic options. This way.”
As they entered the main manufacturing area, Preston flipped on a few lights to allow them to navigate down the line safely. He explained how the raw product arrived at one end of the facility and emerged at the other end of the linear plant as entrees or desserts. When they reached the end of the line, Preston stopped and admired the walk-in freezer.
“We just had this baby installed a couple of years ago when we figured out how to manufacture enough MFHG3 to keep up with demand for our Healthy and Delicious Foods product line. This beauty is the best on the market. It’s got four-inch thick, non-CFC foamed-in-place insulation, is USDA approved, it can maintain temps as low as ten below, and has an overhead door large enough to drive a forklift inside for moving pallets of product.”
“Impressive,” Sofia replied, trying to look interested.
Glancing around, she noticed they were close to another set of loading docks. Obviously, once the product was thoroughly frozen, it would be a simple and efficient process to move it from the freezer to waiting trucks using the forklift parked outside the freezer’s overhead door.
She watched Preston grab a jacket from a peg near the door and slip it on. He didn’t bother to zip it up, and it didn’t look remotely adequate for a very long duration inside the freezer.
He opened the smaller standard-sized door leading into the freezer. Sofia stood next to him, examining the locking mechanism. The handle pulled down to open the door. She also noted the large assortment of brooms, several shovels, an ice pick, and a variety of other tools of varying height hung on the wall nearby.
“As soon as the entrees and meals are packaged, a conveyor belt moves them over there and deposits them in a single layer so they’ll freeze quickly,” Preston said as he pointed to rows of narrow racks. “Once frozen solid, the cartons move on to the next area where they are boxed in cases and labeled. We still have to load the cases onto pallets by hand, so the forklift can transport them to the dock. Thankfully, our new machinery ensures the workers spend as little time in the freezer stacking boxes onto the pallets as possible.”
Standing just outside the door, the cold stung Sofia’s cheeks. She was amazed at the sheer volume of entrees and desserts efficiently stored in the twenty-four foot by sixty-foot freezer. She had never seen a freezer even remotely this large.
“So what are you in the mood for? Chicken, fish, vegetarian, beef… You name it, we’ve got it.”
“No offense, but is there anything without MFHG3?”
“That small section on the far end is where we keep a supply of items not in the Healthy and Delicious Foods line which would contain regular old sugar. We don’t have near the market for those, which is why there isn’t much stock on hand.”
Sofia smiled. “I’ll have a fattening beef entrée and something chocolate.”
Preston stepped into the freezer and quickly made his way across the large expanse. He snatched two items off the racks.
“How about meatloaf and chocolate cake?”
“I think I just lost my appetite,” Sofia stated as she shut the door, turned the lock, and quickly wedged a scoop shovel under the handle. Even if there was a lock override inside, which was likely, the handle couldn’t be pushed down while the shovel held it up.
Sofia had already noticed the overhead door had exterior pins inserted near the bottom. She assumed the purpose was to keep the door from opening accidently and ruining the product. Conveniently, it would also keep the door from opening from the inside. The small slot for the conveyor belt entering the freezer was too small to allow a man to fit through and was currently sealed from the outside to prevent loss of cold air. There was no other way out.
She could detect his attempts to turn the handle as the shovel shuddered, but it held firm. Only the faint sound of his muffled screams could be heard through the thick insulation as she walked away.
* * *
Preston shook the handle of the freezer door, but it didn’t budge. He moved to
the overhead bay and tried to lift it before remembering the pins inserted on the outside kept the door from accidently rising up and to prevent even the slightest exposed gap between the door and the floor.
Returning to the main entrance, he pounded on the steel until his fists were raw, screaming Sofia’s name over and over again.
“Please don’t let me die in here. I’ll do anything.” With the thickness of the insulation, he doubted she could hear him, but he continued to scream until he was too hoarse to continue.
“What do I do, what do I do? Do I keep moving to generate heat or do I sit in a corner and huddle to preserve heat?’ Preston asked himself as he paced near the front of the freezer.
Deciding it would be best to keep moving, he made laps back and forth down the length of the freezer. His ears and cheeks stung from the cold, and his lungs ached from inhaling the frigid air as he continued to pace. His dress slacks did little to combat the ten-below temperatures assaulting him.
He wasn’t sure how long he pounded on the door and begged for mercy or how long he had been walking, but his legs were tired and he had no feeling left in his toes. He slowed his stride as he reached the front of the freezer and pounded on the door several more times before his strength waned.
Looking down, he noticed he still hadn’t zipped his coat. He stopped and grasped the brass tab, but his fingers were too numb to function. The more he tried to zip up, the more he realized he was doomed.
Giving up, he pulled the edges of his coat tight and crossed his arms in front of his chest to keep it shut. His body shook and his teeth chattered. He stumbled toward the corner, deciding it was time to sit down before he fell down.
“I neva trusted that wich,” he slurred. “I shoulda may her get her own foo.” Preston closed his eyes and pictured Morgan’s face. She was so pretty and kind, unlike Sofia and his wife. His wife would be happy now, because she would be even richer than they already were once cashing in his life insurance. She was pretty too, but Morgan was smart. They could have had a lot of fun together if it weren’t for Stan and Aaron.
