If his niece was right, and the shipping container held drugs, then…good Lord, that could be one of the biggest seizes ever in the city. But if it was drugs, surely no one would have just left it there unwatched. According to Patricia, she’d been there twice already without anyone stopping her. That seemed inconsistent with what he knew about the business.
But he did have to admit that whatever it was, the situation was odd.
“Where can I meet you?”
“I’m using the payphone outside the store outside Cervantes Market. How about there? Remember? It’s the one we used to get fruit at. It’s close to what I want to show you.
“I know it,” he said. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Okay.”
He hung up. Gaby said, “What’s wrong?”
“Patricia and Rodrigo found something strange.”
“Strange how?”
As he stood up and started pulling on his clothes, he repeated Patricia’s story.
“Drugs,” she said when he finished. “That’s not your area. Maybe you should have someone else check it.”
“I doubt it’s drugs. In fact, it’s probably nothing. Maybe the owner is just using the building for storage.”
She didn’t look convinced.
He leaned down and gave her a kiss. “I’ll be all right.”
__________
“BACK THIS WAY,” Patricia said.
They were at the old abandoned house. Hector didn’t remember it from when he visited his sister’s family in the past, but both Patricia and Rodrigo assured him it had been empty even back then.
His niece and nephew led him into the building, through an open spot near the top of a wall, then a secret hole at the back of a cabinet. They showed him the damaged wall, the container, the roof, and the peculiar box Rodrigo said he thought controlled everything.
It all confirmed what Hector had thought when Patricia told him about the place over the phone—it was odd. Beyond that, he had no answers.
“I’ve been thinking,” Rodrigo said. He gestured at Hector and himself. “Between the two of us, I think we might be able to pry open the top a few inches and look inside.”
Hector aimed the flashlight he’d brought along at the top of the container. The idea of climbing up there did not exactly appeal to him, but he was at least as curious as they were. “Are you sure?”
“When I was up there, there was one part that felt a little loose. So maybe we can.”
Hector ran the beam along the side of the container, looking for an easy place to climb.
“I’ll help you up,” Rodrigo offered. “Then Patricia can help me like she did before.”
“I want to go, too,” she protested.
“You have to stay down here.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m stronger than you.”
She frowned. “Not by much.”
“By enough.”
Hector nodded. “Let’s do it.”
__________
PEREZ ARRIVED IN Buenos Aires just after lunch. Since he had no luggage and was using an Argentinean passport on this trip, he made his way quickly through Customs and was soon sitting in the back of the car driven by the local contact, a man by the name of Victor Flores.
Flores was a real estate agent used by the Project to procure properties in the Argentinean capital. The Project’s cover was that they were representing a Korean company planning an expansion into the city. It was a variation on a ploy they were using in various countries throughout the world. Flores had received a substantial sum for his services, and was more than happy to drive Perez wherever he wanted to go.
In a way, it was a two-for-one deal. Perez’s main reason for coming was to check out one of the IDM units and make sure there were no problems. While he was here, he had been instructed to eliminate Flores, too. It wasn’t a necessary hit. In fact, if Perez hadn’t needed to return, the Project would have left Flores alone. He would be dying in the coming weeks anyway, but since the Project’s regional assassin was in town, Flores and his knowledge of the secured properties was a loose end that might as well be cleaned up.
But first, the IDM.
Flores, after several failed attempts at small talk, drove Perez in silence, first to a hotel where a small leather bag with a suppressor-equipped pistol was waiting in Perez’s room, then to the neighborhood where the property was located.
“This is fine,” Perez said.
“We still have several blocks to go.”
“I said, this is fine.”
Flores pulled the car to the curb.
As Perez opened the door and grabbed his bag, he said, “Wait here.”
It was a beautiful, warm day. In the Southern Hemisphere, it was the end of spring, and in less than a week it would be summer. Perez had a brief thought about the millions of bodies in the city that would be rotting in the heat come January. He was not blind to the fact that he was working directly on making that happen, but it was for the greater good of humanity—the only way the human race would survive. At least he wouldn’t have to experience the decay firsthand. He’d be on a completely different continent by Implementation Day, safely riding out the unfolding disaster in one of the Project’s compounds.
He turned down the dead-end street where the building with the troublesome IDM was located. There were several cars parked along the block, but since there was no one on the street at the moment, he headed all the way back and entered the property.
The IDM had been sealed in the large, front room of the old building. There was, however, a disguised entrance that, with the right code entered into the hidden keypad, allowed Project members inside.
This particular entrance was all the way at the far end. The problem for Perez was that to get there, he had to go around the back of the building. As he walked along the rear area, he spotted fresh footprints in a patch of earth near the wall. He knelt down for a closer look. Two sets at least, and perhaps a third, pointing in the direction he was going.
Probably someone just taking a shortcut through the yard, or a couple teens hiding out from their parents.
He continued on, but as he reached a wall that had a group of bricks missing at the top, he noticed that the footprints simply stopped.
He opened the bag, pulled out the gun and two additional magazines. He stuck the gun in the holster under his arm and the spare mags in his pocket. He climbed the wall and dropped inside.
At first he thought maybe he’d been mistaken. The small room was empty. But then he noticed the door of an old cabinet in the corner hanging open. He pulled it out of the way and looked inside.
Well, look at this.
At the bottom was a hole that led into the sealed-off section of the house.
__________
BOTH HECTOR AND Rodrigo grunted as they tried to pull open one side of the container’s roof doors.
“Wait, wait,” Hector said, releasing his grip.
“We almost had it,” Rodrigo told him.
Hector frowned. They had not almost had it. In fact, while Rodrigo had been right, and there was a spot that was loose, it wasn’t loose enough.
“If we can’t get it to open enough to peek through, then it’s not going to work.”
“Uncle Hector, just one more time. I’m sure we can—”
“No. I don’t want to damage it. There’s no proof that any law has been broken. Except for us being here.”
“You’ve got to think there’s something strange about this,” Rodrigo said.
“Of course I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, but I think maybe I should call this in and get some help.” He pointed at his nephew and down at his niece. “You two should go home.”
“Home?” Patricia protested. “I’m the one who found it. I should be here when you open it!”
“I understand that,” Hector said. “But if this is something bad, I don’t want your names on any report. The last thing I want is some drug lord looking for y
ou, understand?”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Rodrigo said.
Patricia looked like she wanted to say something, but stayed quiet.
“I’m sorry,” Hector said. “But you understand, don’t you?”
Patricia, still silent, seemed to have stopped paying attention to him.
“I promise I’ll tell you exactly what we find. Okay?”
A male voice from somewhere out of Hector’s sight suddenly said, “I’m afraid you’re not going to get that opportunity.”
__________
IT HADN’T BEEN something she’d heard. What had caught her attention was movement, a subtle shift in the layers of darkness at the far end of the container. At first she thought she was seeing things, but then the outline of a man emerged.
A man holding a gun pointed at her.
“I’m sorry,” Uncle Hector said. “But you understand, don’t you?”
She tried to open her mouth, to warn her uncle and brother, to scream, but all she could do was stare at the gun.
“I promise I’ll tell you exactly what we find. Okay?”
The man with the gun grinned. “I’m afraid you’re not going to get that opportunity.”
His words broke her spell. “He’s got a gun!” Even before she finished yelling, she started running toward the container end closest to her, hoping she could get behind it before the man shot her in the back.
She heard her uncle yell something, but her mind wasn’t registering the words. Her focus was only on finding a place to hide.
Something thudded against the ground behind her. She couldn’t help but look back.
Uncle Hector had jumped off the container and was standing between her and the man with the gun.
“Put it down!” he ordered.
Patricia reached the end and moved partially behind it. “Uncle Hector, please run.”
“I’m a police officer,” Hector said, still looking at the man. “You will toss the gun over here, then you will lie on the floor, your hands on your head.”
For a second it looked like the other man was surprised by Uncle Hector’s words, but then he said, “If anyone’s breaking the law here, it’s you. You don’t own this property. My employers do. You have no right to be here.”
“Your employers are the owners? Then what’s inside this box?”
“Whatever’s in there is not your business.”
“If you move the roof away, and open the top, it looks suspiciously like you are going to release something into the air. Some kind of waste product, is that what it is? Something you’re trying to hide?”
The man cocked his head. “Is that what you think? How interesting.”
If it weren’t for her fear of the gun, Patricia would have rushed out, grabbed the back of her uncle’s shirt, and pulled him to safety. “Please, Uncle Hector. Please come.”
A noise behind her startled her. It was her brother peeking at her from around the other corner. He motioned for her to come to him. She shook her head, and motioned with her eyes toward the other side where their uncle was.
“He wants us to go,” he whispered, “while the other guy can’t see us. He’s trying to keep him busy.”
Leave Uncle Hector behind? They couldn’t do that.
“Who knows you’re here?” the man with the gun asked.
“My colleagues,” Uncle Hector said. “They’re already on the way.”
“Really? That’s not what it sounded like to me. I got the distinct impression from what you told the other two that you hadn’t called anyone yet.”
“I called them on the way here. Told them where I was going. They should be here soon.”
Patricia could hear the lie in her uncle’s voice, and was sure the other man did, too.
“Tell your friends to come out. They’re not going to get away.”
Uncle Hector said nothing.
“Did you hear me?” the man said, raising his voice. “You’re not going to get out. I’ve blocked the entrance through the cabinet. And I guarantee you that the bullets in my gun travel faster than any of you can run.”
“Come on,” Rodrigo said. “We have to go now.”
“What about Uncle Hector?”
Rodrigo hesitated a moment, then said, “I have a plan, but you have to get out of here first.”
“You heard him. He’s blocked the cabinet.”
“Then use the rat hole.”
The rat hole? She had forgotten all about that. It wasn’t really an exit, but it was a way to get out of sight. If she still fit.
Not knowing what else to do, she scrambled past her brother, and out through the collapsed wall.
“I said, get out here!” the man yelled again, his voice now partly blocked by the container.
“Okay,” Rodrigo said. “We’re…we’re coming.”
Patricia whipped back around. What? What was he doing? He wasn’t really going to step out where the man could see him, was he?
She was about to go back to stop him, when she saw his shadow passing along the top of the container. Somehow he had climbed back up without her hearing him.
Now she understood what he was planning. He was going to get above the man and jump on him. That was actually a great idea. She should have thought of it herself.
Rodrigo noticed her through the opening in the wall, and waved for her to keep moving.
The rat hole. That’s where he wanted her to go.
She nodded, and moved into the corridor. As she reached the room where the rat hole was, she heard something in the distance that sounded like a spit or a slap. It happened twice in a row, and after a moment, a third time. But she didn’t have time to figure out what it was. She had to keep moving.
When she and Rodrigo were kids, they imagined the room had been used as an office by the factory’s owner. It was the only room in the building with an actual fireplace. The rat hole was in the corner of the same wall the stone fireplace was located. It wasn’t really a rat hole. It was a broken area near the bottom that, if she turned herself just right, she could squeeze through and slip inside the wall. She contorted her body into the position she’d used in the past, and hoped she was still skinny enough to fit.
She was. Just barely.
She shimmied to her left, toward the fireplace. There was a wide spot there, an open space behind the stones of the façade and mantel. As soon as she reached it, she crouched down and began to pray.
__________
PEREZ EYED THE man who said he was a cop. Were there others coming? He doubted it, but he needed to know for sure, and the only way to do that was to force the man to tell the truth.
Perez heard a low creak come from the IDM container, but pretended he hadn’t noticed. To try and surprise him from above was an obvious ploy. Inside he was smiling. Assistance, however unwitting, with his information problem was about to drop into his lap.
“Perhaps we should both walk away,” the maybe-cop said.
“Perhaps we should,” Perez agreed. “What do we call this? A misunderstanding?”
“I’d be willing to do that.”
Perez smiled. “I bet you would.”
In the silence that followed, Perez focused on the container. First there was a hint of a scrape, then a breath.
“So,” the man asked. “Do we have a deal?”
No further sounds now, but Perez could sense the person looking at him. Though he couldn’t know for sure, it was safer to assume it was the young man and not the girl.
“I think I’ve reconsidered,” Perez replied.
The other man was doing everything he could not to look at the container. “A mistake is all this is. Walking away is not a bad thing.”
Any second now. Any—
As soon as he sensed the man above him start to jump, Perez moved toward the IDM. The jumper—he was right, it was the man—arced over him, missing him by half a foot at most. He tried to grab Perez as he went by, but his outward trajectory was having none of it. When his fee
t hit the ground, he turned to take on Perez, but instead got a face full of pistol grip. Down he went, nose bloody, eyes rolling back.
“No!” the older man yelled, taking a step forward.
Before he could take another, Perez aimed his gun at the guy on the floor, really more of a teenager than an adult. The older man halted, getting the message.
“Now, who knows you’re here?”
The guy stared at him for a moment, clearly running through options in his mind, but Perez knew he’d eventually realize he had only one.
“No one,” the man said. “I haven’t called anyone yet.”
“So no colleagues on the way?”
Looking defeated, the man shook his head.
“What about family?”
“No. I’ve been at work all day. Haven’t talked to anyone. Please, just let them go. They’re just kids.”
Perez remained silent, considering what the man had told him. After several seconds, he decided the guy was telling the truth.
“What I don’t think you understand,” he said, “is that the greater evil would be to let them go. What I can give them now, give you now, will save you a lot of pain later.”
“What are you talking about? Please, harming us isn’t necessary.”
“Fine. If that’s what you want. I will let them go.”
Perez was waiting for it, that look of relief he knew would pass through the man’s face. As soon as it did, Perez pulled his trigger twice, each bullet piercing the man’s forehead. The guy dropped to the ground, dead before gravity even took hold.
In Perez’s mind, what he’d done was humane. The man died thinking his two friends would be allowed to live. It was a small gesture, but a thoughtful one as far as Perez was concerned.
He turned his pistol to the kid on the floor, and put a single shot between his eyes.
With a sigh, he checked the older man for ID, wanting to know if he’d been lying about being a cop. Sadly, no. He’d told the truth. That meant it was all the more important to locate any car the man might have arrived in and have it moved.
That was second priority at the moment, though. The girl was number one.
Perez headed around the container and out of the room. Unfortunately, despite the condition of the building, the floor did not readily show prints. He glanced back at the room where the hole in the cabinet came out. Contrary to what he’d said, he hadn’t blocked it.
Exit 9 (A Project Eden Thriller) Page 12
