by Dale Mayer
*
Michael quickly checked along the seal of the huge door, looking for a way out. With the vehicle outside gone, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and turned on the flashlight. He’d take the chance using the light with the men gone. His gaze followed his fingers as he ran them up and down each side of the heavy metal door. There had to be a control mechanism for those on the inside. It would be foolhardy to seal people in and not have a way to get back out. Although …
He glanced around, deeper into the large space, realizing a way out could be in the back as well. Swearing at himself for getting into this situation and yet intrigued by everything here, he was conflicted. He shouldn’t have left Mercy alone for so long. She would be worried. And yet, this was what he came to find.
He walked to the crates, knowing if he opened one and they saw any sign of that, they would know somebody had been here. He was hoping to find one already open or at least with some lettering on the side. He checked them over, but all were sealed.
He took pictures of what little he found and sent them out, only to realize he had no signal. Swearing, he moved through the space, looking for other items of interest. A lot of mechanical parts were stacked up, with empty pallets off to the side. Beside those was a stack of small crates.
He stopped when he saw the writing on the side. C-4. Was that how they were creating the space in here? Surely not. It would take some pretty skilled dynamiting to create the space without blowing the top off the hill. He frowned as he considered the cave.
He kept going deeper and deeper, past the pickup trucks until he hit the far wall. He was afraid of burning his cell phone battery out using the flashlight the whole time, but this was a necessary process. In the back he was confronted with another door frame under construction. It looked like they were still expanding backward, and this was the last of the support beams. Nothing was stored this far back.
Moving swiftly he crossed to the far side. There were workbenches, tables, desks and a couple trailers. It looked like they were setting up for some big production but weren’t to that point yet. Dismantled shelving sat on the floor ready to be assembled.
There was a space where the digging and framework was going in, but they hadn’t put a door in. The cave wall was still solid as no opening had been created yet.
And so Michael was sealed in. But not for long.
Back where he’d started, he ran his hands up and down the space around the big steel door. He didn’t know of one single door that didn’t have a control panel on the inside. Remote control on the outside made sense, but a keypad control panel should be on the inside regardless.
He found a set of wires connected to a series of controls. They hadn’t been mounted to a control panel yet. Still he could work with this. Moments later, he heard the steel door creak and groan as it slowly raised itself. The problem with this was, if he opened it, once again they’d know. If he could open it a few inches aboveground, it would be enough for him to get out, and, if he found a way to jam it back down again, no one would know he’d been here.
He played with the door for a good ten minutes, finding a space that would work for what he needed. Several empty pallets were on the side. Knocking them over, he set the door to stop at that height as if the mechanism was blocked. When he got it down, he dropped all the wires, raced over, and, on his stomach, he squeezed under the doorframe. Free and clear, he brushed off and raced back the way he’d come.
As he finally approached the hedge, he wondered if Mercy was okay. It looked like the sentries were walking the perimeter yet again. They did that once an hour, and he’d left soon afterward. He still had open ground to cross to get to the main garage the guards had worked so hard to keep him out of. He waited for the men to continue past him, slipped up to the main garage and waited, satisfied he’d made it without being seen, but still surprised to find the guard detail gone from here. Maybe because of the 10:00 p.m. curfew? He peered into the closest window.
No sounds came from inside. He tested the door. It was locked. He pulled out his tools and quickly picked the lock. He let himself in and closed the door behind him with a soft click.
Once again he stood in place and listened, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the darkness. Two large trucks were here—similar to the ones down in the cave. He looked in back to see what they were carrying.
Wooden crates. To gain access wouldn’t be easy, as they were all strapped up. Taking a chance, he turned on his cell phone’s flashlight to see if there was any lettering. Again nothing. He quickly shut it off, moved to the second truck and found the same thing. For whatever reason, these two heavily laden vehicles were stored here, and nobody was allowed access. Money? Drugs? Weapons? He had no idea but suspected with everything they knew so far, it was going to be the latter. But all of the above were bad news.
As he walked to the side, he caught sight of two men coming around the corner outside the window. Instantly he ducked down, out of sight. They walked past him, heading to the old garage. Shit. He didn’t dare let them get into the apartment and find her alone. He raced back to the entrance of the other apartment, opened it, and crept up the stairs.
Inside, he climbed into the attic and crossed to the hatch into his apartment.
Mercy stood beside the window, studying what was going on outside.
In a low voice he hissed. She spun in shock and saw him.
Relief washed over her face, and she threw herself into his arms. He held her close and whispered against her ear, “Two men approaching my door.”
She nodded frantically. “I saw them. They tried the door earlier, but it was locked. Then they left.”
He nodded. “I presume they are back with the keys.”
He dragged her toward the bedroom. With quick fingers he stripped down and motioned at the bed. She understood and stripped off her jeans. She crept in under the covers. He pulled her up against him and held her tight.
Within minutes they heard men on the stairs. There was no knock on his door, but he heard a key inserted in the lock, and his apartment door was opened into the living room.
Anger flushed through him. He sat up and called out in a snarling voice, “Who’s there?”
He bolted from his bed, threw on his jeans and raced out to the living room. His angry gaze landed on the security men with his fists clenched. He slowly let out his hot breath and demanded, “What the hell are you two doing in my place?”
The two men looked at each other and back at him. “We didn’t think you were here.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Where did you expect me to be? Are you searching my apartment? What the hell?”
The two men backed up a step. He took a step forward.
“Are you alone?” one of the men asked in a hard voice.
He snorted. “What the fuck business is it of yours?”
They stopped for an answer. He understood their quandary. They’d come expecting him not to be here for whatever reason. Had he been seen? Then he heard movement behind him.
Mercy stuck her head around the door; then she stepped out, wrapped up in the sheet. In a low whisper she said, “I’m here with him.”
The men relaxed. They nodded and smiled at her gently. “Sorry for disturbing you.” They shot him a look and then retreated.
He called behind them, “Lock the door behind you, and lose the key.”
They didn’t say a word; they just shut the door.
They deliberately didn’t relock it. He walked over, locked the door, grabbed a kitchen chair, and propped it against the doorknob. He turned back to her and said, “Nice timing.” And grinned.
Chapter 15
Mercy stared at Michael, in shock at his words. “Nice timing?” she whispered. She shook her head and continued in a barely audible voice, “It doesn’t matter. That was way too damn close. And now we’re in deep shit too.”
The smile fell from his face. “Are you going to be fired, do you think?”
She thought abou
t it, rubbing her temple. “I don’t know,” she said. “I didn’t see a No Fraternizing among Employees sign.” She shrugged. “I’m sure Martha will have a rule against it though.” Mercy frowned, her mind working the angles. “You think that’s why my sister was killed? Because she started a relationship with Sammy?”
He walked over and gently wrapped his arms around her, tucking her close against his chest. “I hope not. I would doubt she’d die for something so simple.”
She winced. “I keep wracking my brain, wondering if she would get involved in something shady like this. The trouble is, I can’t answer that question. When she left, I would have definitely said, ‘Yes.’ She was into drugs, men, and the fast life. She probably stole, shoplifted—hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t involved in some shooting or breaking and entering back then. But we didn’t hear from her for a long time, and she grew up somewhere along the line. To think she was here for several months cleaning like I’ve been cleaning”—she shook her head—“it boggles the mind. She never would’ve been caught doing menial labor before.”
She pulled back from Michael’s embrace, hating that lassitude overcoming her, wanting to stay nestled close to him. “What about the rest of the night? Do you think I should return to my place?”
He shook his head. “Hell no.”
She frowned. “I left my toiletry bag in the bathroom.”
“Is it that important?” he added quietly, “It’s past 10:00 p.m. curfew.”
The two stared at each other as if across an impasse. Then she shook her head. “It’s not, but I don’t want to leave anything of me behind. I know that doesn’t sound right, but it feels right to say it. There is something so very wrong about this place that I want to make sure I take away everything that’s me.” He raised an eyebrow at that, but he didn’t mock her, for which she was grateful.
“In the morning I’ll walk over with you, and we’ll get it.”
“And what is your excuse?”
“I wasn’t planning on using an excuse,” he said. “If I have a lady stay for the night, I always make sure she gets home safe.”
She frowned at him.
He raised a hand when she went to argue and said, “No arguments. We need sleep.”
“Ha, like I could sleep now.” She walked back into the bedroom, the sheet falling slightly. When she’d dashed from the bed, she’d pulled the straps of her bra off her shoulders. She quickly pulled them back up. In her panties and bra, she tossed the sheet back on the bed and remade it. “We’ve already destroyed your bed tonight.”
“So no reason we can’t destroy it again, is there?” he asked with a devilish note in his voice.
She shot him a smirk. “You should be so lucky.”
He pointed to her shirt, still over the camera.
She nodded.
He quickly divested himself of his jeans while she watched, her heart speeding up at the bulge in his underwear. She deliberately closed her eyes and pulled the blankets up against her shoulders. Because the truth was, she did want to roll over and welcome him into her arms and rip up the sheets. But that was hardly the best idea right now.
And she’d never want an audience.
She lay there pondering the ins and outs of relationships as he got into bed behind her. She held her breath as the bed swayed as it took his weight. Finally, she rolled over and whispered, “I don’t think the bed can take any more shenanigans as it is.”
He gave her a startled look, then a shocked laugh. “I’m not that heavy,” he whispered in protest.
She chuckled but hopped out and stood, looking at the bed frame. She motioned him out of the bed. “Get up and help me lift this mattress,” she murmured.
Obediently he got out of bed and checked out the footboard and underneath the mattress frame. Cracked, he mouthed.
He held up a finger and then pointed at an odd crack in the frame. He bent over the footboard. She scrambled around the side of the mattress where she could take a look. Something was jammed in there. Michael pulled out his tools.
“It must be from the way you sat down,” she whispered, her tone flirty.
Michael muttered, “Like hell.”
She grinned, but her eyes were sharp as she watched him pull out dog tags.
Pain whispered across his face.
She knew instinctively they were Sammy’s dog tags. And there was nothing she could do to help him through this moment.
He dug in again with his tools for anything else, and, sure enough, a slim USB key fell out.
He snagged it and put it with the dog tags, checked to make sure the little hiding space was completely empty, then as quietly as possible, they replaced the mattress and remade the bed. When they were back in bed, he plugged in the USB to his laptop and took a good look at what Sammy had stored there.
Photos.
Photos of the cave that Michael had been in tonight and of the men unloading crates of weapons and crates of C-4 explosives. A man stood off to the side, holding a semiautomatic machine gun, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. The second photo was of Freeman, the owner of the estate, standing beside one of the open trucks and speaking to somebody else Michael didn’t recognize. It looked like packets of money were handed over, but the photo was too far away to make that distinction. He studied the photo.
She squeezed his hand, knowing Michael was also dealing with the loss of his friend.
With a smoldering look in his eyes, he leaned over and kissed her. But not just a kiss of Hey, how are you? or a kiss of Hey, we’ll get through this. This was a kiss of Holy shit, I can’t wait to hold you in my arms and devastate your self-control. Most definitely it was a promise. For later. The trouble was, she wanted that promise now. She didn’t want to wait.
What if something happened to her, like to her sister? Life was too damn short for waiting until she knew somebody better. What a fraud she was. She wanted this man any way she could get him. But what she didn’t want was to have him while somebody else was listening in. Decision made, she slipped from the covers and walked to the living room.
She checked the time. It was almost three in the morning. She walked over to the teakettle, filling it with water slowly, soundlessly. She would have to catch it before it whistled too. In the dark she stared at the moonlight outside. A bone-chill settled in. She couldn’t forget the people who had been in this same position and hadn’t survived.
He’d followed her out of the bedroom with his computer and closed the bedroom door almost to the point of latching it. He sat down at the kitchen table and opened the other folders found on the USB key. Waiting for it to load seemed to take forever. “I knew Sammy would leave something useful,” Michael said quietly.
Finally the file opened, and she could see literally dozens of folders. She walked over to make tea for both of them. With two cups in her hands, she returned to the table, sitting beside him, her heart seizing at the very first image. It was her sister. A happier, contented sister. Anna, in Sammy’s arms, stared at the camera at the end of his arm as Sammy took a selfie of the two of them.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “I never thought to have recent pictures of her.”
Michael wrapped an arm around Mercy’s shoulders and urged her closer. She moved the chair until they were touching, and she snuggled up against him. She brushed away the tears as she looked at the sister she hadn’t seen in twelve years.
“She looks so happy. So very different from who she had been when she left home,” Mercy murmured.
“It happens that way sometimes,” Michael said as they continued their whispered conversation. “Think about it back then. She was probably having trouble fitting in, looking for something other than the life you and your mom represented. She went wild, had to find herself, figure out what she was doing. But it looks like she did it eventually.”
“And Sammy? How does he look?” She studied the man in the photo, his face revealing a strength of character.
“He looks like
he adored your sister,” Michael said.
“It’s so damn unfair.” Mercy shook her head. “How could somebody kill those two people? They had their whole lives in front of them. They had finally found each other and looked like they could be going somewhere.”
Michael nodded, his chin rubbing against the top of her head. “Sammy was a good guy. He would’ve been good for Anna.”
“And she would’ve been good for him. Help him live a little.”
They flipped through several of the photos, more selfies—the two of them in town, on the estate, and in this very apartment. “I wonder how long they were together?” Michael asked.
“I have no idea,” she whispered. “I tried asking questions about her, but no one was willing to talk to me.”
“Most people probably don’t know the details. And those who do won’t be talking.”
“Of course not.”
There were a couple pictures of Anna alone. And then several of Sammy alone. Each time was a different location. Michael and Mercy studied the backgrounds for any purpose as to the location. But, so far, they weren’t coming up with anything. Then she froze. “Is that the cedar hedge?”
He leaned forward and nodded. “And that one is further down.” He tapped another one. “In the background is the storage warehouse I found.”
Excited they ran through the photos in that file, they went to the next folder. This one held photos of the estate and every one of the security men, all still employed here. A list of their names and notes on each security guard were also in that folder.
“Why would he do that?” Mercy asked.
“Standard procedure. So everybody knows who the players in a scenario are. Just in case …”
She felt sick to her stomach when she realized Sammy had documented his own murder case, fully aware he could become a victim. She shook her head, tears in her eyes once again. “Poor Sammy. Poor Anna.”
Michael wrapped his arms around Mercy and squeezed her shoulders. “Yes, now it’s up to us to make sure they didn’t die in vain. We have to stop these assholes. So they can’t do this again.”