“We need to find a way around to the back of that building without being seen.”
Remi nodded to the pay station. “What about over there? It probably wouldn’t be too hard to create some sort of a distraction.”
He glanced at the line of harvesters waiting to be paid. “That could work. Can you and Zoe start a commotion by the scales? If we draw enough attention from both directions, we should be able to get around to the back of the building without anyone noticing.”
The three continued down the trail until they reached the complex. Remi and Zoe broke off toward the men and women waiting in line at the pay station. Once there, Remi began talking to Zoe, then pointing to the scales. Whatever it was the two women were discussing, it seemed to catch the attention of others, as several turned to look at them. A few started asking questions, pulling out their weight receipts, comparing their paperwork with the person next to them. Within moments the agitated workers gravitated to the scales, shouting and waving their receipts. When the guards standing between them and the building started forward, Remi looked at Sam and nodded, as if to say, Your turn.
While Remi and Zoe continued stirring up suspicion and angst among the workers, Sam moved to the other side of one of the mules. Drawing his knife, he slashed the ties on one of the full bags. The falling olives bounced on the ground, hitting the mule’s hooves. Startled, the beast danced about, trying to escape the torrent of fruit. The commotion drew the attention of the other site supervisors not involved in quelling the protests that Remi and Zoe had instigated at the scales. Seeing it was clear, Sam waved them over, and the three slipped past the guards, hurrying between the buildings.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Issues with the scales?” Sam asked as he, Remi, and Zoe ducked around the corner to the back of the warehouse.
Remi’s green eyes sparkled. “Short-shifting the weight.” She looked at the door, her expression sobering. “I don’t know how we’re going to get in. That looks pretty impregnable.”
She was right. There was no way to unlock it from the outside. Judging from the height of the weeds and dry grass growing right to the door, it hadn’t been opened in quite some time. He looked up, seeing a row of windows above them that ran the length of the building. A few were cracked open for ventilation. “If you get on my shoulders—”
At the exact same time Remi said, “I could get on your shoulders—”
Sam held out his hand. She grasped it, placed one foot on his thigh, the other up on his shoulder. When she had both feet planted, he stood tall, and moved against the building. Remi leaned forward to take a look inside. After several seconds, Sam asked, “What’s going on up there?”
“Looking . . . Hold on . . . I think he’s in there.”
“Think?” There was a sudden shifting of her weight as she ducked below the window. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“One of the guards just walked in the front door . . . Shhh . . .” Maybe a minute went by before she said, “He’s definitely in there.” She bent down, placing her hand in Sam’s as he helped her to the ground. “They have him in a bullpen. He’s tied to a support beam, but he looks okay.”
Zoe’s frightened gaze landed on Sam. “What do you think they’re going to do?”
Not wanting to send Zoe into a panic, since, more than likely, they’d kill him, the only thing Sam said was, “They won’t risk doing anything with so many witnesses around. Which means we need a place to hide until everyone empties out.”
“What about the ruins?” Remi said.
“If we can get to them.”
They moved to the corner of the warehouse. It didn’t take long for Sam to realize that was their best option. The roofless stone building surrounded by ancient olive trees sat on the opposite side of the gravel road that led down to the dock. In the short time they stood there watching, they’d seen two guards and dozens of workers walking past on their way to the ferry—none of them seeming to pay any attention to the abandoned structure.
Getting there from where they currently stood would take some care. There were a few scattered shrubs alongside the warehouse, and a stand of trees near the front. Sam led them from shrub to shrub until they reached the trees. From there, they stepped out onto the road, blending in with the workers walking toward the port. As the three neared the ruins, they edged to the opposite side of the road, slipped into the trees, then ducked behind one of the walls.
They watched the building where Dimitris was being held, waiting for the harvesters and, hopefully, most of the employees and guards to clear for the day. The exodus of workers and employees took longer than expected, partly because of the disturbance Remi and Zoe had caused, spreading the rumor that the scales were off. And there were still the stragglers bringing in the last loads of the day.
Eventually, the mules were corralled behind the warehouse, and the last of the workers trudged down to the waiting ferry, their shadows stretching out in front of them. As the ferry took off, the sun dipped toward the rocky hills, then disappeared, casting the entire valley into twilight.
Once it was dark, Sam, Remi, and Zoe crawled to the edge of the ruins. They positioned themselves on either side of what had once been a doorway, giving Sam a perfect view of the complex. As far as he could tell, there were three guards, one for each structure on the premises. The first and smallest building on the left was the cinder-block bunker house where the workers had lined up for payment earlier that afternoon. The middle warehouse was the processing facility, and the third building on the right was the supply warehouse where Dimitris was being held.
As Sam was studying the layout, he heard the rumbling of heavy aluminum panels along with the hum of a motor as the large overhead bay door started rolling up. Light spilled out onto the loading dock as one of the guards walked out, hurried down the stairs, then over to the flatbed truck parked in the middle of the complex. He backed the vehicle against the dock while another guard started the forklift, lifting a pallet stacked with boxes. A steady beep sounded as the forklift backed up, then turned, moving the load onto the truck bed, while the third guard directed the pallet as it was being lowered in the center of the bed.
The three guards climbed onto the back of the truck, two on their hands and knees, examining something at the base of the load. Whatever it was, they resolved the matter, got off the truck, and moved to the loading dock. One walked into the warehouse, turned off the lights, and shut the bay door. A moment later, he exited through the side door, and the three men walked over to the bunker house, two of them lighting up cigarettes.
“Let’s go,” Sam said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He eyed the women as they rose, moving behind him. Had he any choice in the matter, he’d insist they remain hidden here in the ruins. As it was, he was going to need them both to get into the building.
They crossed the gravel road, then ducked behind some low bushes. Sam moved into the trees near the front of the warehouse, and was about to signal for Remi and Zoe to follow, when one of the guards looked in their direction. The man inhaled, the tip of his cigarette glowing orange in the dark. As he blew out a plume of smoke, he pointed to the load on the bed of the truck. The other two men laughed at whatever he said, then all three continued toward the bunker house.
Sam waited a second longer, waved Remi then Zoe over, and they picked their way along the side of the warehouse to the back.
Their plan was simple. Remi and Zoe would boost Sam up to the open window. He’d climb in, free Dimitris, and bring him out.
Remi examined the open window about ten feet above them. “What if there’s an alarm?”
“As many times as they’ve been in and out,” he said, holstering his gun and dropping his backpack to the ground, “I doubt it. And if there is one, it’s probably turned off.”
She nodded, then looked at Zoe. The two women created half a human pyramid, their backs against the
warehouse, their knees bent. Sam gripped their shoulders, stepped up onto Remi’s thigh, then Zoe’s. “Ready?” he asked.
Zoe nodded. “Yes.”
“Try not to miss,” Remi said.
Balancing, he looked up at the window, gauging the distance, and jumped.
CHAPTER FORTY
Sam pulled himself up and into the window, then dropped down on the other side. Moonlight angled in, casting a blue glow across the concrete floor and the rows of floor-to-ceiling industrial shelving. The pallets of cardboard boxes wrapped in cellophane filled the majority of them.
Sam paused, listening.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
A clock high on the wall somewhere to the left counted off the seconds. Other than that, all was quiet.
He followed along a row of shelving toward the sound of the clock until he reached the chain-link enclosure. A padlock hung in the hasp, securing the gate. Dimitris was, as Remi had described earlier, tied to a metal support beam in the center of an otherwise empty storage area. Blindfolded and gagged, he didn’t move. Sam took out his pick and popped the lock open.
Dimitris shifted, bracing himself for whatever might come.
“It’s me,” Sam whispered. He removed the blindfold and gag.
“Where’s Zoe?”
“Safe. With Remi.”
“I know what they’re doing,” Dimitris said as Sam moved behind him to cut the ties. He nodded to the shelves just outside the bullpen. “They’re smuggling the heroin out with the olive oil. I have photos of—”
The metallic jingle of keys hitting the door at the front of the warehouse startled him.
“Someone’s coming,” Sam whispered. He picked up the blindfold and pulled it over Dimitris’s eyes. “Don’t move. I’ll be right out there.” He left the bullpen, closed the gate, and hung the padlock on the hasp, hoping whoever was coming wouldn’t look too close and notice the lock wasn’t actually secured.
A door near the front opened. The lights went on as Sam moved behind the next row of shelving, his knee knocking against an open box filled with small glass vials as he crouched. The glass tubes rattled as the guard’s footsteps echoed across the concrete floor as he headed for the office. Sam aimed his gun as the guard paused, then walked back to the bullpen to check on Dimitris. Apparently satisfied that all was as it should be, he returned to the adjacent office space, unlocked the door, then walked past the window that overlooked the warehouse. Less than a minute later, he exited, locked the office, and left. The moment Sam heard the exterior door closing, he returned to the bullpen, freed Dimitris, and the two hurried out the back.
Zoe threw herself into his arms the moment he stepped out the door. “I was so worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
Sam stood in the doorway. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What about the heroin?” Dimitris asked.
“Forget the heroin. If they come back and find you missing, we’re all in trouble.” He started to push the door closed.
“Wait,” Dimitris said. “I know how they’re getting the drugs out. They’re smuggling it in those unmarked olive oil tins.”
“What tins?” Sam asked.
“They took out a pallet full of them. I heard them saying it was for the Heibert shipment. It was going out tonight.”
“Heibert?” Remi looked at Sam. “That’s the name Rube mentioned.”
“Regardless,” Sam replied, “the last thing he’d want is for us to step in the middle of an Interpol investigation.”
“What about the explosives?” Dimitris asked.
Sam, about to shove the door closed, thought about the two Interpol agents who’d been killed because of an IED on one of the Heibert ships. “What explosives?”
“This,” he said, accessing something on his phone screen, then showing it to Sam. “I couldn’t get in because the office was locked, but you can see them laid out on the desk. Four of them.”
Sam took the phone, enlarging the photo. Though slightly out of focus, there was no doubt that he was looking at an assortment of detonators—not what he expected to see in an olive oil production plant. It was, however, something that might come up in the heroin trade. Especially when looking for a way to eliminate any evidence, should one of their shipments fall under suspicion by the authorities.
Zoe eyed the screen. “Those seem awful small for bombs.”
“They’re detonators,” Sam said, then to Dimitris, asked, “Did you see any other explosive devices?”
“No. Just these. But won’t that help prove the Kyrils are guilty?”
“Not necessarily.” If they had the actual explosive material used to make the bombs, Interpol could test the chemical composition to see if it matched the residue from the incendiary device that killed their investigators. An identical chemical signature would be almost impossible for the Kyrils to explain away.
Had he been by himself, he wouldn’t hesitate to go back. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.
This time, when he tried to close the door, Remi stopped him. “We can’t leave now,” she said. “What if this is what finally brings the Kyril kingdom down?”
“It’s too dangerous,” Sam said. “It won’t do any of us any good if we get killed looking for it.”
“I’m willing to take the risk,” Dimitris said, holding on to the door, refusing to let Sam close it. “It’s the only way to stop the Kyrils.”
Reluctantly, Sam changed his mind. “I’ll need a lookout. You and I can go back in. The women can wait here.”
“No,” Zoe said, grasping Dimitris’s arm. “You can’t go. I just got you back.”
Remi looked at the two of them, then Sam. “I’ll go with you.”
There were so many reasons he should have told her no, but the look in her eyes convinced him otherwise. “You’re sure you want to do this?”
“Positive.”
He turned to Zoe. “You know the trees we hid behind near the front?”
She nodded.
“The two of you wait there. If anything happens, get to the dock. Nikos will be waiting.”
“Please be careful.”
After he and Remi slipped inside, he heard the clock counting away the seconds. He closed the door behind them, then led Remi to the office, hoping he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Remi watched as Sam picked the lock on the office door, then opened it. Remi stood just inside, peering out the narrow opening to keep watch, while Sam took a look around. From the corner of her eye, she saw him looking at the detonators, which were laid out on the desk blotter, the wires neatly folded against the small tubes as though someone had recently removed them from their packaging. He picked up one, along with a remote, tucking both into his pocket, then went back to searching. Apparently finding nothing in the desk drawers, he turned around and opened the metal cabinets behind him. He stood there a moment, not moving.
Remi looked back at him. “What’s wrong?”
“I was hoping there’d be a safe or munitions box where they might keep the actual explosives.”
She scanned the contents of the cabinet. The top few shelves were filled with smaller office supplies, pens, paper clips, and the like. The bottom shelf had an open case of copy paper, ink toner, a large case of Earl Grey tea, and next to that an open box of bubble wrap. She nodded at the shelf. “My money’s on the Earl Grey box.”
He reached down to pull out the box. “You’re right. It’s way too heavy for tea.” He flipped the lid open, pulling out a thick, gray block in plastic wrapping. “C-4. How’d you know?”
“Besides that there’s no mug sitting on the desk? Only a restaurant would keep that much tea around. It doesn’t stay good forever.” She watched as he unzipped the main pocket on his pack, setting the block of explosive on top of hi
s coil of rope. “Is that safe?” she asked.
“As long as we keep the detonator away from it, very.”
Hearing a noise near the front of the building, she looked out. “Someone’s coming.”
Sam turned off his light, then drew his gun. “Get beneath the desk. Hurry.”
She crawled under while Sam moved to the hinged side of the door, his gun in one hand, his backpack in the other. He pressed himself against the wall and waited.
Though Remi tried to even out her breathing, she found it difficult, especially as the heavy footsteps neared. Panic sent her heart racing, the pulse pounding in her ears. Had she listened to Sam instead of siding with Dimitris, they all would’ve been on their way out to the port, not trapped here in the office.
Breathe . . .
She had to trust that Sam knew what he was doing.
Breathe . . .
The heavy footsteps bypassed the office, continuing on toward the bullpen. The next thing she heard was someone shouting. “He’s gone!” Then the sound of running.
“Check the back door,” someone else shouted. “I’ll check the office.”
Breathe . . .
A moment later, the lights in the warehouse turned on. Then someone was at the door, shaking the handle. Remi looked out at Sam, pressed in the corner, his gun out. He put his finger to his lips.
She gave a slight nod.
Breathe . . .
But trying to stay calm wasn’t easy. Especially when she heard the sound of a key in the lock. The door flew open, slamming into Sam. He never moved. Remi could see the guard’s booted feet beneath the desk, certain whoever was out there surely had to hear her heart pounding.
After only a cursory look inside the office, the guard turned away and raced down each aisle of the warehouse.
“Check out the back,” he shouted.
The sound of men running in two directions.
Then nothing but the ticking of the clock outside the door.
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