by Alex Cage
He stood from the kayak, swaying as he gained his balance, and stepped out. Wedging the paddle between some stones, he tied the line from the kayak around the paddle to anchor it. He climbed up the rocks and to the fence line, looking for the split. It took him a few minutes to find it, but once he found it, he could see how the tear in the fence was easy to miss, even if a person was looking right at it in the daytime. He gently peeled open the fence at the split and squeezed through. The smell of cigarette smoke tickled his nose. Creeping towards the door of the warehouse, he reached inside his pocket for his lock pick, but was surprised when the knob turned easily in his hand. Hmm, he breathed, cracking the door open and ducking inside.
The door led into a long, dim hallway. Black entered, looking to his left then his right. He was alone, though the ruffle of plastic and the rasping of cardboard boxes being handled flowed from the room directly in front of him. Its doorway was hung with clear plastic vinyl strip curtains. Through the strips, Black could make out stacks of crates and boxes in the room. He also saw a couple of figures moving around in the distance. Squatting, Black pierced the curtains. A fishy crab aroma swept across his face and his body quivered at the drop in temperature as he took cover behind a tower of boxes. He peeked around the boxes, observing the warehouse floor. The area was bright compared to the rest of the building. There were circular lights draped from the ceiling and in the center was a line of tables. On top of the tables were cardboard boxes and plastic bags. Standing around the tables were two workers. Both were men who wore lightweight jackets, dust masks, and hairnets underneath hats. Black watched as one stuffed fish in a plastic bag, sealed the bag, and used a device to suck the air from the bag before tossing it into a box. Black remained low and out of sight, dodging a few pallets, crates, and bins of iced fish as he crept along the side wall towards the back. He kept his eyes on the men the entire time.
On the back wall was another doorway with vinyl strip curtains. Black moved towards it. The sound of shoes scuffing against the floor echoed from the other side as he approached the doorway, so he quickly padded backwards, taking cover behind a pallet of boxes. A third worker walked through the curtains, toting a box. He was dressed like the other two. Black waited for the man to walk to the center and place the box on the table before easing through the doorway. On the other side of the curtains was a room. In the room were a few cages with boxes stacked inside. To Black’s right, a cardboard baler. Further to the right was a door with an exit sign hanging over it. Directly to his left was a small room. The room contained a refrigerator, a microwave, and coffee maker resting on a countertop, and a few tables. Black zipped towards one of the cages, passing the baler and a loading dock door on his way. He gently pushed the cage gate open. Stepping inside, he removed one of the boxes from a stack and unfolded the flaps. Inside the box were plastic bags. He checked four more boxes. All the same. He raced over to another cage and checked some boxes inside of it. Again, all basically empty. Black rubbed his chin, eyebrows squishing together.
At that, the sound of the vinyl curtain strips whipping apart and the babble of conversation drifted across the room. Black closed the gate and crouched behind the boxes inside. Two men entered the room. One was a guard and the other a worker. The worker was carrying a box. The two strolled in Black’s direction, continuing their conversation as they passed by.
“Remember, when you finish packaging the products, bring them back here immediately, okay?” the guard instructed, waiting on a confirmation.
The worker nodded in understanding.
“Okay?” the guard repeated.
“Yeah, package the product then bring it back here, got it,” the worker confirmed.
“Okay, good. I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but small amounts of product have been disappearing. Not a lot, but the boss is very particular when it comes to numbers. It makes him nervous when they don’t add up.”
The men continued past Black to a large commercial walk-in freezer. The guard draped his AR-15 to his side, removed a key, and unlocked the freezer door. The two disappeared into the cold fog for a few moments. When they came out, the guard was shivering and the worker was rubbing his gloved hands together.
“It’s cold in there,” the worker said.
“Yeah, no kidding,” the guard replied, closing and locking the freezer door. The pair walked back to the warehouse floor.
Black slipped out of the cage and hurried to the freezer. He gave the door handle a quick jerk just to confirm it was locked before removing his lock pick. He knelt at the door and fiddled with the lock, peering over his shoulder every few seconds. The lock snapped open and he walked inside. The chill instantly reached his bones and the cold smoke momentarily hampered his vision. The freezer was roomy and noisy. A large HVAC unit with three fans roared at the back of the freezer. There were shelves on both side walls of the unit which contained small bins, crates, and boxes. Stacked on the floor were plastic shipping containers, the kind with folding flaps. One of the stacks had a hand truck wedged underneath it. He walked over and lifted the flaps on the top container. Inside were frozen plastic bags of fish—salmon. He dug inside the container until he noticed something strange. There was a single bag of largemouth bass amongst the mess of salmon.
He examined the bag more closely and noticed something wedged into the fish’s mouth. It was a slim glass tube. Black rocked the bag back and forth. The tube was far down the fish mouth, but there appeared to be a clear liquid slushing within it. Water would be frozen at this temperature, he thought. He placed the bag back into the container, closed the top, and set it on the floor, exposing the second container. He opened it and put his hand inside, reaching towards the bottom. The frozen bags of fish crackled at the heat of his hand. There was something hard and metallic at the bottom. Black pulled his hand from the container, bringing with it a plastic bag holding two largemouth bass. He looked at the bag closely and noticed a gun snugged between the fish. It was a Glock 19, unmarked, just like the others he had seen.
At that moment the faint hum of a large vehicle wafted through the frigid air. Black jabbed the bag back into the container, closed it, and settled the one on the floor back on top, just as he had found it. He opened the freezer door just wide enough to case the room. Clear. He pushed at the door but quickly pulled it shut again at the sight of the armed guard sprinting back into the room. The guard’s footsteps paused. Black once again cracked the door and spotted him at the loading dock. The man sat his rifle down and unlocked the roll-up docking door from the bottom before hoisting it open, exposing the rear door of a delivery truck. Ten seconds later, three knocks came from the exit door. The guard opened it. Inside stepped another guard. He was tall and slim and armed with only a sidepiece, no rifle.
“That was quicker than last time,” he commented, smiling.
“Yeah, I saw you coming up front, so I hurried back here. Hey… where’s Larry?” the other guard said, catching his breath.
“Oh. He’s in the truck waiting,” the tall guard answered, cocking his head towards the door he had entered.
“Okay, well, let’s get the product loaded. Should be quick. Only a few containers.”
The tall guard nodded and walked over to the truck door, stuck a key into the padlock, pulled the latch, and rolled the door up. “Okay. Where’s the containers?”
“Over in the freezer,” the guard said, pointing towards the freezer.
Black swiftly closed the door and retreated back into the freezer. The chatter from the two guards became louder with every step he took backwards. Watching the door, Black contemplated his next move. He had scanned the freezer for places to hide earlier. There weren’t many options, but he had already determined the best one. The guards’ conversation resonated directly upon the freezer door. Maybe I should just fight them. No, not a good idea, he decided, dropping to the floor and rolling underneath the shelf to his left. The floor was cold but bearable. The freezer door clanked open. Black saw a
pair of dark boots appear right next to him, bringing the scent of nicotine with them.
“Here it is,” the guard said, shaking the hand truck with the stack of containers Black had examined just moments before.
“Okay,” the tall slim guard replied.
The first pair of boots disappeared and another took their place. The hand trunk leaned diagonally and was wheeled out of the freezer, squeaking, before the door thumped closed behind it. Black rolled from under the shelf and pushed himself from the floor, walking to the door and once again peeking out. The slim guard was loading the containers into the back of the truck. The other guard was standing near the loading dock, supervising.
The tall guard walked out from inside the truck. “Hey. Do you guys have any coffee?” he asked the other guard.
“Yeah, it’s over here in the break room,” the guard answered, picking up his rifle, and waving his co-worker towards the small room.
The two men strolled towards the room. Black carefully exited the freezer, shaking, in an attempt to knock the chill off. He stooped low and raced towards the loading dock. He was planning to use the exit door and was microseconds away before he heard the tall guard’s voice.
“Ah, wait. I forgot something.”
Black’s eyebrows wrinkled and a tingling shock rushed through his body as he fled inside the back of the truck, hunkering behind a pile of storage bins. Seconds later, the truck door was slammed shut. The inside was absolutely dark. Black could barely make out his hand in front of his face. “Great,” he muttered to himself. Ten minutes later he heard the truck’s cabin door open, then close. A minute after that the truck was rocking under the revolutions of the diesel engine.
10.
THE RIDE WAS uncomfortable. Not only was it dark and reeking of fish, but the size of the vehicle made every bump on the road feel like a crater while the bins and containers squeaked and rattled constantly. Black sat quietly, bringing forth a map of the area in his mind, monitoring every stop and turn the truck made to track his location. It wasn’t long before the bumps from the road softened and the noise from the storage containers died down. This didn’t come as a surprise to Black because in his mind he had already approximated where the truck would be. I-80 East.
The drive was smooth for another twenty-five minutes before the truck slowed down, bouncing and swaying at a right turn. For a few moments the ride once again became bumpy and noisy. Black could hear a faint whirring sound high above. He squinted his eyes and pursed his lips, concentrating on the sound.
Twin turbine engines cutting through the air.
Black smiled. He was sure they were near Oakland International Airport.
The truck continued on its course, humming steadily for another five minutes before jerking to a complete stop. Black felt the vibrations dissolve from his body as the engine was turned off. He heard water gently swishing nearby and the truck’s cabin doors opening and shutting shortly after. Chatter and laughter flowed from the front of the truck and down the side, accompanied by footsteps. Black quietly lifted himself to a squat on the balls of his feet, removing one of his knives, and peeked around the pile of bins in the direction of the truck’s rear door. The door clicked and dinged before it was railed up. The men’s voices boomed clearer and the inside of the truck lit up with a beam of moonlight permeating through to the back.
“You’re a real charmer, Larry,” the tall guard said, laughing.
The guard called Larry laughed in response. “Hey, what’s wrong with the woman paying for the man’s dinner on the first date? So what if it was my idea to go out?” he said, hunching his shoulders.
His partner shook his head as both men continued to chuckle.
“Hey, give me a hand with this ramp,” the tall guard requested.
“Yeah—yeah, I got it.”
Black ducked behind the bins, listening as the ramp was pulled from the truck and dropped, scratching against the pavement. Footsteps knocked towards him and the floor of the truck suddenly sunk under added weight. Black’s heart rate increased and he pursed his lips, gripping his knife as he heard steps sliding towards him—close, closer, and closer still. The steps paused and he heard the guard Larry yell back towards the door.
“Which one is it?”
“It’s the stack of containers on the hand truck,” the tall guard answered.
“I don’t see—” Larry fumbled around the containers. “Oh, here it is,” he announced, grabbing the hand truck and wheeling it down the ramp. “Should we lock the truck door?” he continued.
“Nah. We won’t be long, but let’s close it.”
The truck door rolled closed and the squeak of the hand truck along with the chitchat of the two guards gradually faded. Black replaced his knife in its holster and crept to the truck door, lifting it open about six inches before lowering to his belly and peering out through the opening. He didn’t see or hear anyone nearby. There was only the gleam from the moon and the stars in the sky, the sound of splashing water to his left, the contour of a building to his right, and darkness in the far distance. Black raised the door another two feet and slid underneath, safely landing on the asphalt and letting the door close behind him. He immediately noticed a steel chain link fence to his left. On the other side of the fence was a large body of water, wafting waves and cool air to the shore. Black assumed it was San Francisco Bay.
To the right, about ten yards away, was a five-story concrete parking garage. There was a stairwell on the northwest corner. Black took a step towards the garage, but the glare from the headlights of a vehicle approached. He quickly retreated behind the delivery truck to take cover, looking on as the dark SUV swung into the parking garage. Then he ran across the pavement and towards the garage, slipped inside the dimly lit stairwell, and quietly closed the door behind him. Faint voices seeped through the dense brick walls of the stairwell. Black lurked upstairs and stopped at the door with L2 written next to it. He carefully cracked the door. The parking level had overhead lights and was large and spacious, but there wasn’t a single car parked in any of the countless available spots.
Black eased through the door and made it eight steps across the concrete floor before hearing the squeak of the hand truck approaching. He swiftly took cover behind one of the large columns in the shadows near the door. Glancing around the column, he saw the two guards walking up the drive ramp. They came to a stop in the center of the floor, right in the driving lane.
Larry looked around. “We must be early,” he said.
“No, I think we’re on time. This meet is supposed to be really quick,” the other guard said.
The hum of a motor echoed throughout the level and the tall guard pulled the hand cart out of the approaching car’s path. Bright blue LED headlights illuminated the level as the dark SUV bumped over the ramp and onto the parking floor. The driver made a circle, orienting the SUV so that it was facing back down the ramp. Two men exited the front doors, engine still running. The driver had blond hair fixed into a ponytail and a serious look on his face. The passenger had dark skin and a low-fade haircut. Both men were medium height with a bulky build. The driver stood at the vehicle, clasping his hands in front of his waist, and watched the two guards approach the SUV with the hand truck.
The man with the low fade walked to the back passenger’s side door and opened it. Another man stepped out. His skin was a cream-white complexion with spots of red. His burgundy hair showed streaks of white and was slicked back on his head. The same color hair covered the lower half of his face.
The slick-haired man met the two guards in front of the SUV. “Is that my product?” he asked, in a noticeable accent.
He’s from the Czech Republic, Black figured.
“Ye—yes, sir, Mr. Petrak,” the tall guard responded.
Petrak looked to the guy with the ponytail and nodded at the containers stacked on the hand truck.
The man returned a quick nod in acknowledgment and walked over to the containers. The two delivery guar
ds took a couple of steps back. The guy with the ponytail took a few minutes opening and examining the containers. After he was finished, he stacked them back as they were.
“It’s all here,” he said, turning toward Petrak.
“You two can get out of here,” Petrak said to Larry and his partner.
The men pivoted.
“Wait before you go,” Petrak called to them. “A small but… significant amount of my inventory is… well, unaccounted for. Do you two know anything about that?”
Both men’s eyebrows squished together and they both slightly shook their heads. “No, sir, Mr. Petrak,” they both replied, nearly in tandem.
Petrak cast a stern gaze on the two men for a few moments before a smile arched on his face. “Well, if you hear anything, let me know. Now get out of here.”
“Yes, sir,” the two guards said in sync before walking to the same door Black had entered and disappearing into the stairwell.
“Well, there goes my ride,” Black whispered to himself.
“Okay, boys, this should be a quick and easy exchange,” Petrak commented at the two men with him as he walked back to the SUV, got in, and closed the door.
The two men stood at the front of the SUV, hands clasped in front at their waists.
A few minutes passed before another vehicle wheeled up the ramp. This one was a large dark blue sedan with standard halogen headlights and a somber tint.
Two men exited from the front of the sedan, engine still running. The driver was clean-shaven, had sand-colored skin, and wore a V-neck. On his wrist looked to be a watch or maybe a Fitbit, Black guessed. His partner carried a suitcase. His face was smooth as well, and his brown hair was styled into a short surfer cut. The two men walked toward the SUV, the guy in the V-neck at the forefront. The man at the SUV who sported the low fade walked to Petrak’s window and tapped it. The other guy at the SUV, with the ponytail, stuck out his palm to halt the two men from the sedan and began patting them down. After he finished, he stepped back from them but stood in their path, holding them at bay.
