The Deception

by Chris Taylor

  Pete nodded. “I found some old building plans online. The owner lodged a development application in the mid-nineties with the local council for extensions. There’s a small door next to a couple of big roller doors. You walk in on the main floor. It’s a large open space where I presume they used to house the printing press. There are a couple of smaller rooms at the back.”

  “That’s where we hit first.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “When do we go in?” Will asked.

  Pete glanced at his watch. “We’ll start the countdown in five.”

  * * *

  The blister on Savannah’s heel had become unbearable. Blood squelched beneath her foot and made walking even more difficult. She limped and wheezed and panted against the pain. Dylan remained unmoved.

  He dragged her the final few feet to an unpainted door that provided entry to a large brick building. The brick had faded over the years to a brownish-red and the sidewalk that surrounded it was thick with pigeon droppings. She tilted her head and spied hundreds of the birds roosting along the eaves.

  “W-where are we?”

  “You don’t know?” Dylan asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

  Savannah frowned in confusion. “Should I?”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “It’s a warehouse owned by the Daily Mirror. I’m surprised you weren’t given a tour.”

  Savannah shook her head in disbelief. Why would Vince Maranoa meet Dylan in a warehouse owned by her newspaper? Nothing about that scenario made sense.

  “I can see you don’t believe me,” Dylan said and then shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll find out soon enough.”

  He dug into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a key. Fitting it into the lock on the front door, he turned it. The door opened with a click. He shoved her through the opening.

  Meager amounts of early morning sunlight barely penetrated the darkness of the warehouse. Savannah blinked her eyes in an effort to adjust to the dimness. The place smelled old and damp. The stale odors mixed with the familiar smell of ink.

  Dylan produced a flashlight and with a less-than-gentle push to her back, guided her toward the rear of the building. A few moments later, he halted outside the door of what appeared to be a small office. The murmur of voices sounded from within. Savannah was suddenly paralyzed with fear.

  Ignoring her sharp intake of breath and the small cry of alarm she was unable to contain, Dylan pushed open the door and dragged her in behind him.

  * * *

  “It looks like the place is empty.” Pete squinted in the dimness and then pulled down his night-vision goggles. The rest of the team followed suit. They’d come through the side door after one of the TRG officers had cut the lock.

  Will made out darker shadows of what he assumed to be part of the heavy equipment used in the printing process. They now sat still and silent, like figures in an elephant graveyard. The smell of ink was sharp and caustic. The warehouse was quiet, apart from the sound of his breathing and the occasional scrape of a boot on the concrete floor made by one of the taskforce officers who waited for instructions behind him.

  Pete lowered his voice to a murmur. “I want you to take a few of the others and check out the back storage rooms. It’s the most logical place to start. Once we’ve cleared the building, I’ll look around for some lights so that we can give the place a thorough sweep.”

  Will nodded his assent and gave Pete a thumbs-up before turning on his heel. He pointed to three of the officers and communicated with hand signals that they were to follow him. Once he was satisfied they understood his instructions, he turned toward the rear of the building and picked his way through the derelict machinery.

  The further back they went, the stronger the smell of ink and machinery oil. Will guessed it was because even less fresh air filtered its way all the way to the back. How anyone managed to work in the dark, dank space, he didn’t know. It wasn’t a place he’d want to turn up to every day. Then again, the warehouse didn’t exactly look like it had been occupied of late.

  Dust lay thick on every surface. To his left, he spied a wall of newspapers. They were tied in bundles and were stacked to a height well above his head. He continued forward and came upon a partition wall that housed the small rooms Pete had mentioned.

  The murmur of voices sounded from the other side of the wall. He put up his hand to halt the men behind him and strained hard to listen. There were at least two men and maybe a third. The sound of a woman’s cry of anguish broke the silence and stopped him cold.

  * * *

  Savannah stumbled into the room and gasped. An exposed light bulb hung from the ceiling and illuminated Vince Maranoa and Max O’Connor where they stood in one corner, holding bricks of white powder. The room was piled high with bundles of newspapers. They spun around as one and stared at her. Maranoa was the first to recover.

  “Well, well, well. Who have we here?” His smile was as friendly as a barracuda’s. His eyes gleamed with feral anticipation.

  Savannah backed up a step and collided with the solid wall of Dylan’s chest. He elbowed her in the back, propelling her toward Vince. Shock and confusion at her discovery that Max was in cahoots with the drug lord left her frozen.

  “This is my sister. Savannah O’Neill.”

  Vince closed the distance between them. His gaze traveled over her and his smile widened. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” He reached out and tilted her chin upwards with his fingers. Savannah flinched.

  He frowned. “You look a little familiar, Savannah. Why is that?”

  Fear congealed, cold and heavy, in the pit of her stomach. Her limbs were as limp as boiled spinach, but she refused to allow him the satisfaction of seeing her terror. She clenched her jaw and stared at him in defiance.

  “Oh, we’ve met before. I’ve been in your brothel on more than one occasion. I’ve spoken to your girls. I’ve heard their terrible stories. How do you think I was able to write about it?”

  The back-handed slap came from nowhere. She caught the flash of a ring on one of Maranoa’s fleshy fingers before it connected with her mouth. She cried out and went to clutch at her face, forgetting for an instant that her hands were bound.

  Her lip throbbed from the impact. Within moments, it was double its size. Blood trickled from a cut and ran into her mouth. Her eyes watered from the pain, but she refused to allow the tears to fall.

  Maranoa’s eyes blazed with fury. “That’s the least you deserve, you little bitch.”

  Max stepped forward, his hands held out in a placating manner. “Vince, I’m not sure she needs to be treated like—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Max. If you’d done what I’d told you and kept her away from the place, none of this would have fuckin’ happened. I wouldn’t have the fuckin’ cops breathin’ down my neck. I wouldn’t have had to move the shit and I wouldn’t have this sneaky little slut pokin’ her nose in where it isn’t wanted.”

  Max wrung his hands in consternation, fear edging the shadows in his eyes. “Of course, Vince, I understand. She disobeyed my order. She must be punished. But… Do you have to be so violent about it?”

  Vince scoffed. “You call that violent? That was nothin’. The little slut will be beggin’ me to kill her after I’ve finished with her. Right, Billy?”

  Recalling her brother’s presence behind her, Savannah tensed and tried to edge away. Dylan’s laughing reply chilled her to the marrow.

  “Oh, yeah. I was gonna kill her myself, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew I had to leave her to you. It was the right thing to do.”

  “I like the way you think, Kid,” Vince chuckled. He moved closer until he stood inches away from her. He reached out and slid a hand down her face and then let it fall to her breast. He sneered at her and then gave her nipple a vicious pinch.

  Savannah gasped from the pain and humiliation, but there was nothing she could do. With her hands still bound, the only thing she could resort to was her mo
uth.

  “Get away from me, you vile piece of filth. I won’t rest until I see you punished for your crimes. You disgust me. You—”

  His fist barreled toward her and connected with her cheek, right below her eye. The ring she’d noticed earlier split the skin above her cheekbone. She cried out again, wishing she could reach up and stem the burning pain that radiated across her face. Blood trickled down her cheek. She silently damned her inability to keep her mouth shut and vowed not to antagonize the evil brute again.

  Vince turned to Dylan, his lip curling up in disgust. “You need to teach your sister some fuckin’ manners, Kid.”

  Dylan stepped forward and grabbed Savannah by the arm. With the nails of his fingers digging into her, he dragged her toward the back of the room. She stumbled into a stack of newspapers and stubbed her toe, gasping involuntarily from the pain.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you stupid bitch?” Dylan spat at her. “Do you want it to be slow and painful?”

  Savannah stared up at her brother. Shock and overwhelming confusion rendered her speechless.

  How could this maniac be her brother? How could he have changed from the bright young boy with a few troubles as he struggled to adjust to the unexpected death of his parents to this—this…monster?

  Dylan dragged her further back into the shadows. Her mind and body were weighted with concrete. Tears of anguish burned just below the surface. Her lip throbbed, her cheek ached, the blister on her heel flamed. Exhaustion weakened her determination to withstand Maranoa’s onslaught. Knowing her brother, her flesh and blood, was aiding and abetting her demise, crippled her resolve.

  * * *

  Will’s heart thumped hard. Blood pounded in his ears. He gulped in oxygen in an effort to ease the adrenaline that surged through him. Someone was on the other side of the wall. A few someones, from the sound of it.

  He turned and motioned to the men behind him. With as few whispered words as he could manage and plenty of hand signals, he explained how they were going to deal with the presence behind the wall. The men nodded in understanding. Will counted them down with the fingers of one hand.

  He eased himself forward and located a closed door. He looked down and noticed a faint gleam of light filtering through underneath. Straining to listen above the pounding of his heart, he eased his hand under his shirt and undid the clip on his holster. Another startled cry came from the other side of the door.

  A sense of urgency flooded through him. He pulled out his gun and held it up in readiness. Checking that his men were with him, he leaned his shoulder into the door. To his relief, it opened without a sound.

  Light flooded the room. He squinted through the brightness and hauled off his night vision goggles, leaving them dangling around his neck. The three TRG officers barged into the room behind him, their guns drawn.

  The outline of two men materialized in front of him with their mouths gaping in shock. There was no sign of a woman. Perhaps he’d been mistaken?

  “Freeze! Police!” Will’s voice echoed loudly in the confined room. He trained his gun on Vince Maranoa and Max O’Connor.

  Will’s mouth compressed into a thin line. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

  Maranoa’s hand snaked down toward his belt. Will cocked his gun and aimed it directly at the drug lord. “Arms up above your head!”

  The other TRG members, looking menacing in their combat gear, kept their guns trained on the men. Max trembled violently, shock and fear evident in his eyes.

  “It’s n-not what it l-looks like. I-I didn’t even know w-what was going on. I-I just came across Vince here. I-I came in to ask him w-what he was doing.” Tears formed in the editor’s eyes.

  “That’s fuckin’ bullshit, and you know it,” Vince exploded. “Don’t go rattin’ me out now, mate. We’re fuckin’ in this together. That’s how it’s fuckin’ always been.” His voice dropped low and threatening. “Don’t you go forgettin’ what I fuckin’ did for you, Max. I stabbed that fucker for you, Max. The fucker who killed your parents. I did that for you. The cops had fuckin’ nothin’. That fucker would have got away with it if it hadn’t been for me.”

  Max’s eyes bulged. “B-but Vince, I c-can’t go to jail!”

  “Who says we’re goin’ to jail?” Vince scoffed. “I know this bloke. He and his father are fuckin’ regulars at the club. This asshole probably heard me talkin’ one night and now he wants a cut. He’s been at me for some fuckin’ shit all week.” Vince eyed Will disdainfully. “Ain’t that right, big fella?”

  Will smiled grimly. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck this time, Vince. There are at least half a dozen more police officers waiting outside this door. They’ll be happy to take you quietly, but they’ll be just as happy to take you screaming. It’s your pick.”

  Max blubbered. “I-I told you to watch out for him! I-I knew something wasn’t right! Now look what’s happened!”

  Vince turned to him, irritation etched on his face. “Just shut the fuck up, would you! You always were such a fuckin’ cry baby. I should never have fuckin’ let you in on it!”

  “D-don’t yell at me, Vince,” Max wailed. “You k-kept telling me how the c-cops were all over you. If it w-weren’t for me, you w-wouldn’t have had anywhere to store—”

  Max stopped. Comprehension dawned. He turned wide eyes to Will, his mouth gaping.

  Will shook his head, amazed Max had managed to scale the upper echelons of management. With his gun still trained on Vince, he pulled cuffs out of his belt and immobilized the editor.

  “Righto, Vince. It’s your turn. Don’t go trying to be a hero. Get your arms behind your back and turn around. You’re not going to get out of this one.”

  He breathed a silent sigh of relief when Vince submitted without a struggle. As one of the other officers secured handcuffs over Vince’s thick wrists, Will gestured with his chin.

  “Okay, boys, let’s take it out of here. Max, you take the lead and walk real slow. Don’t try anything stupid, or you’ll end up with a bullet in your hide.”

  Max whimpered. His hefty body appeared to shrivel. Two of the officers grabbed him by the arms and herded him toward the door. Max shuffled past Will, his gaze averted.

  Vince moved forward with the assistance of the other member of Will’s team. When Vince drew alongside Will, he shot him a look that was full of confusion and surprise.

  “What the fuck did I ever do to you? I would have been happy to cut you in on a bit. All you had to do was ask.”

  The lifeless face of Will’s younger brother flashed before him. For long moments after he’d found Cole, he’d held him to his chest, asking the same desperate question over and over. Why? Guilt had overwhelmed him. It had been a long while later that he’d rung for emergency services.

  Making no effort to stem the anger and pain that flooded through him, he stared at Vince with narrowed eyes and replied in a voice that was as cold as ice. “You’re the reason my brother’s dead.”

  Vince’s forehead creased in confusion. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? Your brother? I didn’t even know you had a fuckin’ brother.”

  Will’s gaze burned into Maranoa’s. “Yeah, that’s right. Just like the other hundreds of nameless people who die of drug overdoses every year in this city. If it weren’t for you, they wouldn’t be able to get the stuff.”

  Vince cackled. “You really fuckin’ think if I’m not around, there’ll be no more drugs in this town? You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’? You shut me down, another fuckin’ three will have set up in my place by the mornin’. You aren’t gonna fuckin’ get rid of this. Too many people are hooked on it. Rich, poor, it don’t make no fuckin’ difference. You’ve got no idea how it can fuckin’ get ahold of you.”

  Cold determination flooded through Will. “And I’ll shut them down too, one outfit at a time.” He prodded Vince forward with his gun. Vince flicked his gaze over Will’s shoulder.

  “Now, Billy. Now!” Vince yel
led.

  Will whirled around. In the same instant, a third man, who until then had remained concealed behind the stack of newspapers, stepped out and revealed himself. He dragged a woman with him. Red hair spilled across the man’s arm where he held it clenched around her neck. Light glinted off the gun in his other hand.

  Will froze. Savannah stared up at him from her awkward position twisted against Billy’s chest. Her green eyes were ravaged with fear and pain. Her hands were bound in front of her. Blood trickled from her mouth and a cut had opened up beneath her eye. Fury like Will had never known boiled through his veins.

  “Let her go.” His cold command was met with a sneer of laughter from the man who held her.

  “Like hell. Let’s do it this way. I’ll let her go when you let Vince go. Quid pro quo as they say.”

  Will struggled to breathe through his anger. Helplessness and fear surged through him. He glanced behind him and was relieved to discover the remaining TRG officer had his gun trained on Vince.

  Will looked at Savannah again and a fresh wave of helplessness washed through him. How she’d come to be there, he had no clue and now wasn’t the time to become distracted by questions. There would be time enough for her explanations later. At least, he prayed there would be.

  His mind spun furiously. The officers who had left with O’Connor should have made it out of the building by now. They’d notify Pete of their discovery. Pete was sure to head straight to the back room. Will could only pray he wouldn’t be too late.

  Buying time, he attempted to engage the man Vince had called Billy, in conversation.

  “So, Billy, you must be pretty friendly with Vince to want to risk holding a woman hostage over his release?”

  Billy’s expression softened. “Yeah, we’re friendly, all right. Vince knows how to treat me right.”

  Savannah struggled against the man and Will’s blood ran cold. Didn’t she know her best chance of surviving this was to remain as inconspicuous as possible? He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. His gun remained steady on the man who held her.

  “For fuck’s sake, would you be still?” Billy jerked her harder against him. Savannah’s head snapped back. She cried out in pain and then sunk her teeth into the man’s forearm.