CHAPTER 42
Lake shoved Parker straight into Hong. They barely managed to stay on their feet, and in that same instant, a bullet passed right by Rick’s ear.
Another shot rang out.
The glass in front of them exploded into thousands of shards.
“Fuck!” Fox cursed.
He staggered back, pressing a hand to his side. Blood quickly seeped between his fingers.
“Mr. Fox!” Riley rushed toward him.
“That bastard hit me,” he gritted out. “Kill him.”
Riley drew his gun and immediately lunged for the door.
As if reading his mind, Lake darted toward the stairs. He flew down them in seconds, practically leaping over the steps, grabbed a piece of rebar on the way, and shoved it between the door and the handle with all his strength. The metal clanged as it caught on the handle, and almost immediately someone began pounding on the other side.
Billy and Rick froze.
“Move!” Lake shouted. “Run!”
They took off at the same time.
The walkway trembled beneath their feet. Their boots slipped on the metal stairs. Rick grabbed the railing, then immediately let go.
The door shook again.
Riley kicked it with all his strength. The metal buckled, every blow reverberating through Rick’s chest. His hoarse curses reached them.
Another blow.
“Faster!” Aaron barked.
His heart was pounding somewhere in his throat.
They burst into the workshop and raced between the machines. They were just about to turn into the corridor they had come from when a figure flashed into view. A shot rang out.
Rick managed to duck.
Behind them, the door was struck again with a deafening crash.
Another shot, and the person firing at them collapsed to the floor.
“This way!” Lake rasped, pointing into the darkness.
They ran blindly ahead. A narrow corridor, the smell of dust and machine oil, small chips and wood shavings crunching beneath their feet. A few seconds later, they found themselves in a workshop filled with enormous rusted circular saws.
They dove behind one of them and crouched right on the concrete, hiding for at least a minute, just long enough to catch their breath.
“Stay here,” Lake said quietly. “I’ll check where we can get out.”
The metal behind Rick was cold and rough. He pressed the back of his head against it, feeling an icy draft creep beneath his collar and run across his overheated skin.
Somewhere nearby, Hong was breathing heavily, raggedly, as though he couldn’t get enough air.
Lake cautiously peeked around the saw and switched on the flashlight for a second. A narrow beam swept across the workshop: empty machines, hanging chains, broken glass. On the far wall, a faded sign reading “Block C” flashed into view. Rick managed to read it before Aaron turned off the light.
Rick tried to catch his breath. His lungs burned, every inhale sending pain beneath his ribs.
Had Fox really just killed Stanley? Right in front of them?
His stomach immediately twisted, burning nausea rising into his throat. He forced it back down.
Not now. Not here.How had this even happened? What were they supposed to do now? Everything had gone to hell.
He looked at Billy. He was sitting motionless, staring at a single point. His eyes were glassy, his face gray.
“Hey…” Rick carefully touched his shoulder. “Billy, are you okay?”
Billy’s lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but no words came.
“Billy?”
Rick touched him again.
“I’m fine.” He shrugged Rick’s hand off.
“Don’t you dare blame yourself for this,” Rick said quietly.
“Leave me alone, Rick!” Hong snapped.
Rick froze.
Lake returned. He scanned the corridor, making sure it was clear for now, then grabbed Billy by the shoulder and turned him toward him.
“Listen to me.” Lake bent slightly lower, catching his gaze. “This is not the time. We need to get out of here alive. Understand?”
Billy said nothing.
“I’m asking you, do you understand?”
Something crashed in the corridor again.
Rick held his breath.
Billy finally looked up.
“Understood… Detective.”
“Good.”
Lake released him and immediately turned toward the corridor.
A metallic scrape sounded, followed by two muffled shots. The door was ripped from its hinges. The metal crashed onto the concrete.
“What the fuck?!” someone shouted.
“The cops know everything!” Riley yelled.
A metallic echo rolled through the entire sawmill. Apparently, he had kicked that damn barrel as hard as he could.
All three of them flinched.
“They’re coming!” Billy whispered.
“I know.”
Lake listened, then pulled out the magazine, quickly checked the rounds, and slid it back in.
“Follow me.”
He moved first between the saws, leading them toward the far end of the workshop. Rick and Billy tried to keep up, weaving around rusted machinery and avoiding the hanging chains.
“Where are we going?” Rick whispered.
“There’s a door,” Lake replied shortly.
“And what’s behind it?”
“I don’t know.”
Suddenly, everything went silent. Too abruptly.
Just a second ago, someone had been banging against metal and swearing, and now there was only silence. So thick they could hear melting water dripping somewhere and rats squeaking.
Rick tensed.
Something was wrong.
Lake suddenly yanked them down.
“Get down!”
A bullet passed just over their heads and struck a metal beam. A flash of sparks blinded Rick. Several hot fragments clattered onto the concrete. One burned his shoulder even through the thick fabric of his jacket.
“This way!” Lake rasped.
They surged forward. Rick could barely keep up with Aaron, his boots catching on scattered boards and wood chips. The floor crunched beneath them, while somewhere overhead, hanging chains swayed, lightly clinking against one another.
They had already crossed more than half the workshop when a voice came out of the darkness:
“They’re here!”
“Don’t let them into Block C!” someone shouted, the voice vaguely familiar.
Rick turned around.
Riley appeared at the far end of the workshop. Several more armed men followed him. They moved quickly, darting from one machine to another.
“This way!” Aaron called.
He abruptly turned toward an enormous circular saw and, grabbing Rick by the shoulder, pulled him along. They ducked, crossed the final few yards, and hid behind the massive body of the machine.
Rick pressed himself against the cold metal and lowered his eyes for a second. Beneath the saw, old machine oil lay dark across the floor, mixed with dry sawdust.
Aaron cautiously looked around the saw and fired.
The muzzle flash lit up his face for an instant. Another shot. He retreated behind the cover, and almost immediately a bullet struck the metal body of the saw.
The crash deafened Rick painfully. He instinctively pressed a hand over his ear.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Billy suddenly raise his gun.
His hands were shaking, his breathing ragged. He leaned out from behind the saw and pulled the trigger twice.
The shots rang out almost simultaneously.
“Back!” Aaron shouted, yanking him back behind the cover.
The smell of gunpowder and dust hit Rick’s nose.
Rick looked at him. Aaron had gone even paler, but he didn’t let go of his weapon.
Another burst of gunfire passed over them. Bullets hammered against the metal, throwing off sparks one after another. Several wood chips flew up from the floor, one slicing Rick across the cheek and cutting the skin.
He flinched and covered his head with his hands.
For a second, he couldn’t see anything. He could only hear gunshots, shouting, heavy breathing, scraping. Then he caught the bitter smell of smoke.
He lowered his hands.
Beside the neighboring saw, a pile of dry wood chips was smoldering. One edge had already caught fire, and a thin flame was quickly spreading through the pile of wood debris.
Suddenly, Aaron grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Get ready to run!”
He leaned out, fired several more shots, and immediately ducked back.
Rick watched him and felt his heart instantly skip a beat.
Aaron rose again, firing toward the pursuers. The flash illuminated a strip of pale skin beneath his shirt, which had ridden up.
Aaron was without a bulletproof vest… WITHOUT ONE!
“Aaron!”
Rick reached for him, but Lake didn’t even look in his direction. He merely pushed his hand away, sending him back behind the cover. Then he leaned out again.
Rick had barely managed to lift his head when a bullet whizzed right past Aaron’s neck and struck the metal structure behind him.
“Aaron!”
Rick reached for him again.
This time Lake shoved him sharply back behind the saw, shielding him with his own body. Another burst of gunfire hammered against the metal. Sparks flew everywhere, forcing them to squeeze their eyes shut.
He waited a second, then released his grip on Rick’s arm. He stood and fired again at the support. The massive beam from which the chains hung broke loose with a deafening crash.
“Run!” Lake barked.
He grabbed Billy by the jacket and yanked him forward. Then he shoved Rick after him. Rick nearly stumbled.
They raced between the machines.
White flashes of gunfire tore through the darkness. The noise reverberated through Rick’s chest, the air thick with gunpowder. People were shouting somewhere behind them.
Rick ducked as another bullet passed dangerously close.
Aaron stopped for a second, spun on his heel, and aimed at that enormous circular saw. The muzzle flash illuminated his face. Then a powerful explosion followed.
The dry wood chips burst into flames, fire instantly racing through the pile of debris. Several men on the other side were thrown backward by the blast wave. Rick’s ears rang, white dust billowing into the air.
The smell of smoke and gunpowder burned into his throat. Rick coughed but kept running.
The door.
There it was.
So close.
Billy reached it first and yanked the handle.
“It’s locked!” he blurted out in panic.
“Move!”
Aaron was beside him, shoved him aside, and slammed his shoulder into the door.
It didn’t budge.
Rick turned around.
Riley was already several dozen yards away. He raised his gun again, firing as he ran.
“Aaron!” Rick shouted.
A second impact.
The door didn’t budge.
All three of them threw themselves against it. The metal groaned, but the door only shook.
“Again!” Aaron shouted.
They slammed their shoulders into it simultaneously. The door flew open with a deafening crash.
Rick and Billy stumbled inside. Aaron followed. He slammed the door shut, and almost immediately a bullet struck the metal from the other side. But the door held.
“Help me move this!” Lake grabbed hold of a massive cabinet.
Parker and Hong rushed over to him.
The cabinet was so heavy that for a split second it seemed as though it had grown into the floor. The metal groaned under the strain, their fingers slipping across the cold surface.
With great difficulty, accompanied by a terrible screech, they managed to move it and block the door. The dull, rattling structure finally came to a stop.
Rick leaned his forehead against it, feeling the cold metal almost stick to his skin. His heart pounded in his chest, every beat throbbing in his temples.
Another shot rang out.
Then a third.
Rick turned around, pressing his back against the cabinet door, and tried to breathe. The air tore at his lungs, and his ears were still ringing.
He looked at Aaron. He was breathing heavily too. Only now did Rick notice that his hands were trembling.
Something struck the other side of the door.
The cabinet shook but held.
Another blow.
“You have nowhere to run!” came a voice from outside.
Rick clenched his jaw. The voices sounded so close, as though they were coming from inside the cabinet itself.
“Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll smoke them out!” someone else shouted.
Something crashed outside the door again.
“We made it, Detective…” Billy breathed, still struggling for air. “We’re… alive.”
Lake said nothing.
Rick lifted his head and finally looked around.
They had ended up in an old locker room. Rows of metal lockers stretched along the walls. Forgotten keys stuck out of some of them, while others had been almost completely eaten away by rust. In places, the doors had warped and hung from a single hinge.
At first glance, it was an ordinary abandoned room. Only Rick had the feeling that something here was wrong.
Suddenly, everything went quiet beyond the cabinet.
He listened. There were no more blows, no voices, not even a single rat squeak.
Rick slowly swept his gaze across the room. Several crates stood in the corner, covered with tarps. He noticed one immediately. It was too clean for this place, with no dust or dirt on it. As if someone had handled it very recently.
He pushed himself away and walked closer.
“Aaron,” he called quietly, stopping beside the crate. “Shine the light.”
Lake directed the flashlight at the tarp.
Rick carefully pulled at the edge, and the fabric slipped off almost soundlessly. There was a faint rustle of plastic. Something glinted in the flashlight beam. Rick frowned and tugged harder, and the tarp obediently fell to the floor.
Another crate was underneath, and on its side was a familiar blue label.
“That’s the one…” Rick breathed.
Lake stepped a little closer, directing the light inside.
Rick looked into the crate and saw hundreds of blister packs, neatly arranged in rows and secured with rubber bands.
He picked up several of them. The capsules clicked beneath his fingers, and a cold, dry chemical smell immediately hit his nose. His head spun for a second.
“OxyContin… Haloperidol… Clonazepam…” He read the labels, then looked at Lake in confusion. “This is…”
Aaron silently took one of the blister packs from his hand. He turned it beneath the flashlight, checking the packaging, then flipped it over and carefully examined the back. His jaw tightened, his brows drawing together.
Meanwhile, Hong opened another box.
Inside were identical packs of pills, neatly arranged in rows. He lifted the next layer. The tarp rustled, and beneath it, instead of another box, was a heavy metal case.
“Um… there’s something else here,” he said quietly.
Billy hooked a piece of cloth under the edge of the lid and lifted it.
Rick stepped closer. At first, he thought it contained another layer of packages, but the flashlight beam slid across cold metal, and he froze.
Guns.
One, two, three… Rick instinctively started counting, but quickly lost track. Assault rifles lay beside them, along with suppressors, magazines, and bags of ammunition. In the very corner were grenades.
“Holy shit…” Billy said.
Rick silently raised his camera and began photographing the contents of the case, making sure not to miss anything: the overall layout, rows of weapons, ammunition, grenades.
At the same time, he slipped his other hand into his pocket, pulled out his gloves, and silently held them out to Lake.
He put them on and carefully lifted the nearest pistol. He turned it in his hand, examining the frame, then flipped it so the grip faced upward.
“Let me guess,” Rick said quietly. “Serial number’s been scratched off?”
Aaron tilted the pistol slightly toward the light.
“Yeah.”
Click.
“Wonderful…” Rick muttered. “Just what we needed.”
Aaron shifted his gaze back to the case. Everything inside was arranged with almost obsessive precision, as though the weapons were meant to be collected from here.
“There’s enough weapons here,” Hong muttered, “to arm an entire squad.”
“Or a SWAT team,” Parker snorted as he took one last picture.
Silence settled over them for several seconds.
Lake carefully put the pistol back in place.
“Don’t touch anything else.”
Rick lowered the camera.
“Even if there’s something else interesting in there?”
Aaron gave him a brief look.
“Especially if it’s interesting.”
Parker pulled his hand back and let out a loud breath.
“All right, guys, let’s sum this up,” he said, ruffling his hair. “On the plus side: Cooper’s tip was accurate.” He shrugged. “We photographed a shitload of important criminal bigwigs and saw that they came for crates with the same blue labels as the ones here.”
Rick pointed at the crate. His brows drew together.
“I think there were drugs in those too.”
Lake took off his gloves.
“We don’t know that for sure.”
Parker looked at him.
“We don’t,” he agreed. “Maybe the same blister packs, maybe something worse.”
Rick put the lens cap on the camera and crouched beside the crate.
“I found a fragment of the same label at the crime scene by the lake. Now we can finally connect these two cases. Plus,” he exhaled, “we finally met Fox.”
“Downside?” Lake asked dryly.
“He wants to kill us.”
“That’s not funny, Rick,” Billy said quietly.
Rick looked up at him. Billy looked as though he still couldn’t process everything that had happened. His shoulders were slumped, his gaze unfocused. He stared somewhere ahead and barely reacted to their conversation. Not long ago, he would have at least smirked, but now there was nothing on his face.
Rick’s heart clenched painfully. He braced his hands on his knees and stood.
“Come on,” he replied just as quietly. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”
Billy didn’t even look at him. He slowly walked back toward the first crate.
“What do you think they need all these medications and weapons for?” he asked, running a hand over the blister packs. The plastic rustled softly.
