CHAPTER 45
They found themselves not far from where they had begun their surveillance, right beside the old mine carts and rails.
Dense white snow covered the ground, and somewhere very close came the scrape of metal. From the sound of it, someone was hurriedly loading something into a van.
Rick got to his feet after him. The air smelled of burning wood and something acrid, like melting plastic.
He turned his head and froze.
Part of the sawmill was already engulfed in flames. The fire was spreading at a terrifying speed. People darted between the buildings, hurriedly pulling crates out of the burning rooms.
“What are they doing?” Rick whispered.
“Saving the merchandise,” Aaron answered just as quietly.
Suddenly, Aaron yanked Rick toward him, pulling him into the shadow of a rusted railcar.
Rick almost cried out in surprise, but immediately felt Aaron’s hand on his shoulder.
“Quiet,” Lake whispered tensely.
Footsteps sounded very close by.
“What do you want from me? I came as soon as I could!”
Rick froze. A shiver ran through him.
He would have recognized that voice anywhere. As unpleasant as the person it belonged to.
John King.
Fox appeared from behind the railcar.
“You could’ve stayed home,” he said calmly. “I’ve already finished everything.”
“Finished?!” John’s voice rose sharply. “You burned down our sawmill!”
“Because I had to.”
“Had to?!” John nervously glanced at the burning building. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!”
Fox slowly turned his head toward him.
“I do. Do you understand that all this shit is because of you?”
Silence hung between them for several seconds.
“Because of your stupidity, the cops got on our trail,” he continued, nodding toward the burning workshops. “I had to deal with it as it came.”
John frowned.
“You… what?” His eyes widened. “You burned them?! Are you out of your fucking mind?! They’re cops! We’re all fucked!”
Fox stepped toward him and suddenly grabbed him by the front of his jacket, jerking him closer.
“I just saved your ass,” Fox hissed quietly. “After you caused this whole fucking mess and almost screwed up Dad’s deal.”
“Let me go,” John growled.
“We’re in the same boat, Johnny. If I die, you die too. Remember?”
Fox tightened his grip.
“That’s why I still put up with your buddy.”
He gave a short nod toward the hooded figure. The man was just hauling the last few crates into the van.
“If it weren’t for your word, he’d already be feeding worms somewhere in the woods.”
Fox released him as abruptly as he had grabbed him. He grimaced and pressed a hand against his injured side. Rick thought his face had gone noticeably paler.
“So instead of questioning me, get to work.”
John straightened his jacket and shot him an angry look.
“Fuck off, Benny! I know damn well what I need to do!”
Fox smirked. With his hands in his pockets, he actually did walk away at an unhurried pace.
John stood there for a while longer, watching him go. Then he irritably shrugged and finally followed.
Rick waited until their voices faded and their footsteps died away. Only then did he cautiously peek out from behind the railcar.
The hooded man was still there. No one else. He continued loading crates into the back of the van, completely unaware that he was being watched.
Rick shifted his gaze to the nearest crate.
Blue labels.
The same ones.
Rick quickly looked at Aaron.
All their evidence had burned along with the camera. But maybe not everything was lost.
He was already about to step out of hiding when Aaron caught him by the wrist.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“We can’t let a chance like this slip away,” Rick objected barely above a whisper.
“I know.”
Aaron looked at the van again.
The hooded man lifted another crate and placed it in the back.
“That’s why I’m going.”
Rick turned toward him.
“No.”
“Rick.”
“No,” he repeated even more quietly. “You’ve already rushed in twice. Now it’s my turn.”
Aaron met his eyes.
“And besides,” Rick continued, “I have a plan.”
“What kind?”
He slipped a hand into his pocket, making Aaron frown.
“What are you doing?”
Rick silently pulled something out of his pocket and opened his hand.
Lake stared at the grenade in his palm for several seconds, then slowly looked up at him.
“Are you kidding me?”
“No.”
“Where the hell did you get that?!”
Rick smiled smugly.
“From the crate.”
Aaron closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Jesus, Rick…”
“What? I thought it might come in handy.” He shrugged. “Besides, there’s no serial number or markings on it. Not much use as evidence. But for its intended purpose? Very useful.”
Rick reached behind his back and pulled a pistol from his waistband.
“I’ve also got Billy’s gun.” He held the weapon out to Aaron. “So?”
Lake slowly exhaled and looked back at the van.
The hooded man was loading the last few crates.
“All right,” he said quietly. “Let’s do it.”
***
After moving the fence aside and squeezing through, Billy found himself back on the sawmill grounds.
He knew the patrols were already on their way, but he couldn’t wait any longer.
Bare branches caught on his jacket and lashed his face. He barely noticed them. His feet sank into the snow, his boots had been soaked through long ago. His good hand gripped the pistol tightly.
He moved from one piece of cover to another, trying to stay in the shadows. The grounds were still in chaos. Somewhere ahead, engines roared one after another. Billy caught sight of a small convoy of trucks hurriedly leaving through the main gate, kicking up loose snow beneath their wheels.
Two of the expensive vehicles that had arrived last were already gone.
He didn’t know how many people were still inside, but most of those he had seen earlier were nowhere to be found.
In the distance, beneath the trembling yellow light of a lamp, several figures moved. They exchanged brief words, occasionally glancing back at the burning buildings.
Billy stopped and raised his pistol.
Too far.
He needed to get closer.
His legs were almost numb from the cold. The pain in his arm was getting worse, his vision was darkening, and the only things he could think about were Rick and Aaron.
His fingers tightened around the grip.
Billy stopped almost where they had begun the operation. Frozen stacks of logs loomed in front of him. He cautiously peeked around one of them.
Now he could see better.
The same hooded man was beside the van. He methodically carried one crate after another, as though everything happening around him had absolutely nothing to do with him.
Billy narrowed his eyes. At first glance, he couldn’t see any weapon on him, but, to his surprise, he noticed headphones.
The hooded man calmly listened to music as he worked, without even turning toward the burning workshops.
Billy clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt.
He stopped thinking.
The pistol was already in his hand. He raised it, pressed his shoulder against a snow-covered tree, and aimed at the man by the van.
A slow breath.
Hold it.
His finger settled on the trigger.
And then a powerful, muffled impact came from deep inside the sawmill.
Billy flinched and instinctively crouched lower. The ground beneath his feet vibrated faintly.
Something heavy collapsed inside the building. Almost immediately, screams and running footsteps came from that direction.
Billy cautiously looked out from behind the stack.
Several people who had been outside only moments ago rushed back toward the buildings. Figures flickered against the fire.
Billy looked back toward the van. The hooded man had just pulled out one of his earbuds, leaving it dangling from the wire along his body.
And then Billy noticed movement near the back of the van.
Two people were moving low, almost crouching, trying to stay in the shadows.
Billy froze. Something about one of them looked familiar. He narrowed his eyes. Tall. Very tall. The man stepped out of the shadows for a second, and the weak light slid across his face.
Billy stopped breathing.
He abruptly shifted his gaze to the second.
Brown, curly hair. A familiar silhouette.
Rick and Aaron.
Alive.
“No way…” he breathed.
***
“It didn’t work!” Rick breathed. “It stayed where it was!”
Aaron was already looking at the van.
The hooded man hadn’t moved. He was standing by the rear doors, reaching for the handle.
“I see.”
“He’s about to close the van. We won’t make it!”
Rick peeked out from behind the cover. The vehicle was only a few meters away, but there was nothing between them they could use for cover.
Aaron looked at him.
“We’ll make it.”
He stepped out from behind the railcar first.
“Hands up!”
The man by the van froze.
Aaron raised his pistol, keeping it trained on the man.
“Where I can see them.”
The man slowly reached for the door handle.
“Make a move,” Lake hissed. “And I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
The man’s fingers froze on the handle.
He slowly raised his hands and turned his head slightly. His gaze drifted toward the burning workshops.
“All right…”
Aaron frowned for a second.
“Turn around.”
The man didn’t hurry.
“Why?”
“I’m counting to three,” Lake said flatly. “One. Two…”
In the silence, the sharp click of a pistol being taken off safety rang out clearly.
“Okay…” the man said quietly. “I’ll turn around.”
He finally turned.
Rick remained in the shadows, watching them. Aaron’s eyes never left the man.
“Two steps toward me.”
The man took one.
“Another.”
A second step.
“Stop.”
Aaron glanced briefly at Rick.
He understood immediately.
He slipped out from behind the railcar and quickly moved toward the rear of the van. The entire cargo area, from wall to wall, was packed with crates bearing those same blue labels.
He opened the nearest one slightly.
Inside, blister packs, glass vials, and ampoules lay in neat rows.
Rick froze for a second.
The same things that had been in the crates from Block C.
He quickly pulled several packages from different rows and stuffed them into his pockets. Then he reached for a blue label. If they got out of here, at least they would have this.
The rustle of paper made the hooded man flinch slightly.
“Stay where you are,” Lake said flatly.
The man’s fingers tightened around the gun. He obediently froze.
Aaron kept his eyes on him.
“Now, slowly, take off the hood.”
His voice was calm. As calm as the voice of a man whose magazine was completely empty could possibly be.
Pale fingers slowly touched the edge of the hood.
The fabric rustled softly and slid slowly from his head.
Aaron froze. His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“You…”
He didn’t get to finish.
Several meters away, the workshop door burst open with a deafening crash. One of Fox’s men emerged from the smoke.
The man saw Rick by the van and immediately raised his pistol.
Lake raised his own sharply, pulled the trigger — and heard only a dry click.
Rick jerked away from the van, but it was too late. He didn’t have time to react before the shot rang out.
Aaron froze in horror.
The man collapsed face-first, knocked down by the bullet. Clumps of snow scattered around him.
“Run! I’ll cover you!”
Rick and Aaron turned.
Billy stood behind the stack of logs. His pistol was still raised, his good hand visibly trembling.
The man by the van bolted toward the workshops. Billy fired after him but missed. The bullet disappeared into the snow, and the man managed to vanish around the corner of the building.
Rick and Aaron took off.
The snow made it difficult to run, their feet sinking ankle-deep, but they didn’t slow down.
Loud footsteps and shouting sounded behind them. One by one, people poured out of the burning workshop, followed by King Jr. and Fox.
Fox didn’t even try to hide. With cold, almost lazy confidence, he pulled out his pistol and opened fire on them.
Bullets passed dangerously close: one struck an old loader behind Rick, another whistled over his head. One of Fox’s men rushed forward directly into the line of fire and took a bullet that hadn’t been meant for him at all.
“Fucking lunatic!” John yelled. “You’re shooting your own guys!”
Fox didn’t turn around. He simply pulled the trigger again.
Billy stopped abruptly and spun on his heels.
“Get down!”
He raised his pistol and fired toward a pile of old rusted kerosene barrels.
One of them caught fire almost instantly.
For a second, the world was flooded with blinding orange light. Flames shot upward, thick smoke swallowed the yard, and a sharp blast made everyone duck. Heat struck their faces even from a distance, leaving their ears ringing.
“Run!” Billy shouted.
All three took off again. Gunshots still sounded behind them.
They finally broke free of the smoke. Rick managed a few more steps before Aaron suddenly stopped.
Directly ahead of them, by another exit from the sawmill, stood two figures.
The woman calmly stepped forward and stopped in the middle of the road, blocking their path.
She took her time, calmly pulling off her leather gloves. Dark hair whipped in the wind, and the small metal stud beneath her lip gleamed coldly in the firelight. Her gray eyes moved attentively over the three of them.
Her man stood beside her. His pistol was raised and pointed directly at them.
Rick quickly looked back. Behind them, near the other entrance, Fox and John were making their way through the burning barrels and stacks of logs.
He turned his gaze to Aaron. He had already stepped forward, shielding Rick and Billy with his body while simultaneously raising his pistol and aiming it at the man.
“Madam Madeleine,” the man said flatly. “Shall I shoot them?”
The distant hum of police sirens could barely be heard from deep in the forest.
Madeleine didn’t answer immediately.
For several seconds, she studied Aaron with interest. Then her gaze slid over Rick, lingered on Billy, and returned to Lake.
She slowly raised a hand.
“No.”
Her voice remained just as calm.
“Pleasure to meet you…” she said, never taking her eyes off them.
A sharp gust of wind tousled several strands of her short hair. Rick noticed the hint of a faint smile on her lips before she calmly added:
“…Detective Lake.”
Aaron didn’t move.
The sirens grew louder. Then, in the next second, Madeleine stepped slightly aside, clearing their
path.
She turned her gaze to the man beside her.
“Let’s go, Cedric,” she said, turning away unhurriedly. “It’s time.”
“Move,” Aaron immediately ordered, extending an arm and pushing Rick and Billy ahead of him. “Run.”
They ran.
Lake glanced back one last time, then followed.
Snow again. Forest again. The sirens were getting closer and louder, but no one paid them any attention.
Rick ran until his legs finally began to give out. His lungs burned, his chest tightened after the long run, and his breathing refused to settle.
They didn’t stop until they reached the car.
Rick bent over, bracing his hands on his knees and greedily sucking in the cold air. Gradually, it began to sink in that they had actually made it out.
He straightened and looked at Billy.
He was pale and scratched up, his good hand still trembling. He was breathing heavily, his head lowered.
Rick wanted to say something, but Billy suddenly looked up.
There was so much anger and pain in his eyes that Rick didn’t even have time to understand what was happening.
Billy stepped toward him and shoved a palm against his chest. Rick barely kept his balance.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was?!” Billy’s voice trembled so badly the words nearly broke apart. “I thought you were dead! I… I didn’t know what to do with myself!”
He turned toward Aaron and took several determined steps.
“Detective! You can suspend me, fine me, even throw me in jail—I don’t give a shit! But you and him… both of you…”
He shoved him hard, making him take a step back.
“You’re fucking idiots! Two of a kind! I fucking hate you!”
Lake suddenly stepped forward and simply hugged him. Carefully, gently, avoiding his broken arm, but firmly.
Billy instinctively opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
He froze, unable to believe it.
A warm palm settled on his shoulder, the other on the back of his head. Only then did he feel how badly Aaron himself was trembling. How heavily he was breathing, how unevenly his chest rose beneath his jacket.
So Lake had been at his limit too. Billy just hadn’t noticed until now.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Billy,” he said quietly, almost directly into his ear.
Those simple words suddenly made Billy’s knees buckle.
He swallowed convulsively, trying to force down the hard, burning lump in his throat. His eyes stung so badly that everything around him blurred for several seconds. The white snow before his eyes dissolved into a hazy smear.
He was used to seeing Lake differently.
Composed, strict, the kind of superior who always kept his distance. And now Aaron had simply… hugged him.
As though he didn’t blame him for what had happened. As though he really was glad to see him.
For some reason, that was what finally broke him.
A kitchen suddenly flashed through his memory.
He was five again.
The cold floor beneath his bare feet and a broken porcelain saucer. Mom’s favorite. White shards scattered everywhere, and a thin line of blood running down his wrist.
He stood in the middle of the kitchen, barely breathing, waiting for shouting, swearing, punishment. Anything at all.
He already knew it was his fault. That Mom would be upset when she found out. And yet, when the door opened and his perpetually stern father appeared in the doorway, he simply walked over, picked him up, and held him against his chest.
“It’s okay, little one,” he said quietly. “You’re okay. You just got scared, didn’t you?”
Billy didn’t know where the memory had even come from. It disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind only a strange, painful emptiness.
He didn’t even notice the tear rolling down his cheek.
Aaron only held him a little tighter. Without words or unnecessary questions.
Somewhere inside, there was still that little boy who had learned far too early to think of himself as weak, useless, and guilty. But now there were people beside him who had no intention of punishing him for it.
Maybe he really wasn’t as useless as he had always believed.
Maybe not everything was lost.
Maybe not everything was hopeless.
The sirens grew louder. The wind swayed the bare branches of the trees. In the darkness, the first blue and red flashes finally appeared.
He heard footsteps crunching through the snow behind him.
Rick stepped closer and gently ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly. His fingers moved over the top of Billy’s head so carefully, as though he weren’t touching strands of hair but the very flame in which Billy had been burning for the past half hour. At that almost weightless touch, the tension finally began to leave him.
Billy shyly wrapped his arms around Aaron in return, burying his face against his jacket.
The sirens drowned out the quiet sob.
