Option to Kill (Nathan McBride 3) (16 page)

He set the bag down, removed his gun belt, and put it on. He knew she wanted to say something. “What?”

“You look like a cowboy,” she whispered.

“Thanks, I think….I’ll need your assistance with the next part.” In reality, he didn’t need help, but he wanted to keep Lauren’s mind away from the horror she’d seen in the warehouse the night before.

“What are you gonna do?”

“Watch and learn.”

He removed one of the folding USMC Predator knives and opened it. Keeping the torch away from the skylight, he ignited it with a lighter and adjusted the flame to a bluish color. It made a hissing sound as the flame formed a fine cone. “Hold the torch upright and keep it from falling over. We don’t want to burn the place to the ground. Yet.”

He took his left glove off and put it on his right hand upside-down. The insulated handle plus the double-glove protection would shield his skin from the heat. He moved the blade of the knife into the flame and turned it back and forth slowly. The trick was making the knife hot enough to cut the material, but not hot enough to re-fuse the plastic on the back side of the cut. He could’ve used a battery-powered grinder to cut an opening, but that would’ve made the devil’s own noise. Although slower, this was a silent method. It took two test attempts to find the right temperature. He reheated the blade and pushed it into the opaque plastic of the skylight and began melting a cut line. He got six inches before the knife started to slow and get sticky. Just before the knife stuck in place, he pulled it out and repeated the process again. A noxious odor drifted.

“Don’t breathe that in.”

“How do you know about this stuff?”

“Books.”

“Yeah, right.”

It took multiple melts before he had a twenty-four-inch square ready to be removed. For the final cut, he grabbed the piece of plastic with his free hand so it wouldn’t drop to the floor below. He made the final cut and placed the Plexiglas next to the skylight. Nathan had purposely made the opening directly along the skylight’s frame so anchoring the grappling hook and dangling the rope wouldn’t break any remaining Plexiglas.

He motioned for Lauren to follow and stepped away from the skylight.

“Once we’re inside, I’ll follow you to your stepdad’s office. You’ll have to go in first, unless you can safely climb down that rope. If not, I’ll lower you to the floor.”

“You’d better lower me. I have big-time acrophobia. I almost lost it coming up the wall.”

“We need to be totally silent from now on. There could be acoustic alarms down there. Once your foot’s in the loop, use your hands to guide yourself through the opening as I lower you. When you’re below the skylight, grab the rope with both hands. Don’t look down until you’re close to the floor. The duffel bag will be below you, so watch out for it.”

Lauren made it to the floor without incident. The only trouble she had was a scrape on her forearm from the edge of the opening. Ten seconds later, Nathan joined her on the concrete. He felt two taps on his arm and turned. Lauren pointed to a bright light on the perimeter wall near the fire exit door. In the green image of his NV scope, he saw the unmistakable intensity of an infrared beam’s source. Invisible to the naked eye, the night vision picked it up easily. Had they entered through the fire exit door Lauren normally used, they would’ve broken the IR beam.

Nathan bent low and whispered, “Good work. Sit tight for a sec.” Before proceeding, he needed to know where the beam went. He retrieved a plastic spray bottle from the duffel and turned the nozzle to a fine-mist setting. Aiming toward the IR beam’s source, he pulled the trigger. At waist height, a bright line materialized in shimmering splendor. The beam ran from left to right, covering the fire exit door and the larger freight doors. It shouldn’t be a problem.

Even with only every tenth ceiling light illuminated, their NV visors were too bright. Nathan turned Lauren’s gain to its lowest setting before adjusting his own. He took a moment to orient himself. The warehouse contained long aisles of pallets stacked two and three high. Each pallet secured large cardboard boxes, presumably the patio furniture Marchand manufactured. If that were true, there was enough stock in here to supply the entire state.

Keeping his voice low, he asked, “Where’s the office?”

She pointed. “That way.”

“Remember, no sounds at all. Walk quietly. I’ve got our six. You lead the way.”

Nathan trailed her down a long aisle. He wanted to see the location where she’d seen the mutilated Mexican girl, but figured it should wait until he finished searching the office. At the end of the aisle, parked forklifts were being charged. Next to the forklifts he saw a piece of white equipment. It had some kind of robotic-arm device above a wheeled cart. He tapped Lauren on the shoulder and pointed at it. She shrugged and followed him over. When they got closer, recognition came. This thing didn’t belong in here. More than that, it seemed randomly out of place. Nathan stared at the unmistakable GE logo on its side and shook his head.

Keeping his voice low, he said, “This is a portable X-ray machine. Do you know why it’s here?”

“No.”

“Ever seen it before?” he whispered.

She nodded.

Holly had said Voda was into smuggling, so maybe this thing was somehow related. Nathan didn’t know the price tag but believed it had to cost a small fortune. Something else caught his eye. Tossed aside near the corner of the building, several hundred empty one-gallon water bottles littered the warehouse floor. The sight of the bottles triggered something, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. He’d either seen or heard something about plastic water bottles on the news. He stowed the thought. Right now, he needed to search the office, look at the crime scene, and bug out. Following Lauren along the south wall, Nathan saw some doors that probably led to ground-floor offices or storage rooms. One of them would lead to the building’s main entrance.

He trailed her up a set of stairs into a short hallway. Lauren stopped at a closed door with a keypad like the one they’d tried outside. He tried the knob. Locked.

“Is it the same combo?”

“It’s different.”

After she entered a sequence of numbers, the LED on the keypad turned green and he heard a soft
click
. They were in. Large, square windows occupied the exterior wall, their vertical blinds open. Overflow from the streetlights provided all the illumination they needed.

This office didn’t look like it belonged in a warehouse. A granite-topped desk with an iMac computer dominated the center of the room. Stylish office furniture and accessories lined every available inch of wall space. The furnishings in here had to top one hundred grand. Whoever Marchand was, he’d done well for himself.

“Where did you find the piece of paper?”

“Under the desktop.”

“Show me.”

She pointed. “This piece lifts up, but you have to move the light first.”

In the green image of the scope, he saw an ultrafine line between the right wing and the center portion of the desk. It was nearly undetectable — a clever hiding place. No one would think twice about it. The random pattern of the granite concealed the line. He slid the heavy brass lamp aside and hoisted the piece of granite. Plain particleboard greeted him.

He put the small slab on the carpet. “So, the piece of paper was right here? Sitting flat under the granite?”

“Uh-huh.”

Nathan opened a few of the desk’s drawers but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

Based on the hiding place on the desk, Nathan began searching the office, looking for anything that might employ a similar method of concealment. He frowned at an antique typewriter sitting on a coffee table near the windows. It was hand-powered, not electric. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen one of these things. Why was it here? It seemed out of place with this office’s modern furniture. No other antiques were present. He thought about the piece of paper and removed it from his pocket. He placed the paper facedown on the desk, ran his fingers along its surface, and felt the embossing of the stamped numbers. In this day and age of printers, why would someone hand-type the information, unless it was the only copy and whoever typed it didn’t want any digital record whatsoever?

“Lauren, did you ever see your dad use this typewriter?”

“No.”

“What about your mom? Has she been in here?”

“I don’t know.”

“But she knew about the hiding place on the desk.”

“I guess.”

“You guess? She told you where it was, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

Nathan stared at the desk, concentrating. He put the piece of granite back, slid the desk lamp back into position, and heard a barely audible squeak of metal. He picked up the lamp and felt something move inside its brass base. He shook the lamp to confirm it. There was definitely something loose in there. It could be the power cord, but he didn’t think so. He set the lamp on its side and examined its felt bottom. The felt appeared to be off-center by no more than an eighth of an inch. He tugged at a corner of the felt and was rewarded with the sound of Velcro tearing. The squeak he heard was from the tiny sliver of exposed brass rubbing along the smooth granite. He hadn’t heard a squeak when he’d first slid it because the exposed sliver of brass was on the trailing side. He tore the felt free, and a bundle of Bolivian passports fell onto the desk. He removed the rubber band and opened one. The unsmiling face of a young Hispanic girl stared back. She looked to be around Lauren’s age — twelve or thirteen. He checked the other passports and found similar photos.

A chilling thought struck him: could he be looking at the border murder victims? Had a monster named Hans Voda snuffed out these innocent lives? It seemed likely. But if so, what was Marchand’s role?

“Lauren, are you okay looking at these pass — ” He stopped midword.

Cigar smoke.

It hadn’t been there when they’d walked through the warehouse.

Smelling it now meant only one thing.

They weren’t alone.

Episode Four

Chapter 15

“Lauren, stay close and don’t make a sound!” He pocketed the passports, slung the duffel over his shoulder, and pulled his SIG. The cigar smell was much stronger at the top of the stairs. He peered around the corner and heard a voice coming from somewhere in the middle of the warehouse. From their current position on the south end of the warehouse floor, they’d need to traverse nearly five hundred feet to return to the rope.

“
Aquí, gatito! Aquí, gatito gatito!
”

Someone was calling to one of the cats. He pivoted his NV scope down to his eye. Several aisles to their left, about halfway down the warehouse, he saw the unmistakable glow of a cigar against the pallets of boxes. The powerful night-vision scope picked it up easily.

He bent low and whispered, “We’re going down. Take off your shoes and leave them here. Hurry!”

Although Nathan was able to descend the stairs quietly, he couldn’t risk it with Lauren. They had to make their way back to the rope without making any noise. Lacking the security code, they couldn’t exit the building without setting off the alarm, which undoubtedly made a boatload of noise.

At the bottom of the stairs, he led Lauren back the way they’d come. In the green image of his night-vision scope, he looked at the X-ray machine again as they hurried past its strange form to the perimeter wall. Knowing his boots wouldn’t be silent if they needed to run, he removed them. Nathan gave her the hand signal to follow and started down the aisle along the perimeter wall toward the rope. They’d made it only halfway down the warehouse when a cell phone trilled to life. He couldn’t hear the conversation, but he
did
hear the footfalls of someone running in the direction they needed to go. This wasn’t good at all. He stopped and held up a closed fist. Lauren bumped into him.

Near the place where they’d entered at the north wall, they heard the fire door open, followed by a grunt of pain.

In Spanish, a man’s voice boomed through the warehouse. “I’m going to kill that stupid son of a bitch.”

“Easy, Boss.”

“I’m going to cut his fucking nuts off!”

Nathan knew it was Voda then.

“We need to get the bullet out of your leg and close the wound. You’ve lost a lot of blood
.
”