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Brink of Extinction | Book 1 | Sudden Impact

Page 18

by Shupert, Derek


  Rung after painful rung, I lugged my body up the ladder until my feet hit the bottom bar. I emerged onto the catwalk as Juan was heading up the next flight of stairs.

  He paused halfway up, then leaned over the railing. “Today, grandpa. We don’t have all day.”

  I held any sort of colorful remark back, and moved along the metal catwalk.

  We traversed up each flight at a steady clip until reaching the top of the building. Juan took point, and climbed the ladder encased in steel that led up to the edge of the roof. He neared the top, and peered over the ledge. His head moved from side to side as he kept low and out of sight. He offered a thumbs up, then climbed the rest of the way up.

  I grabbed the ladder, and caught sight of the alley below. The rear door to T-dog’s building opened. I froze, then backed away from the ladder. I lowered to the steel grates and leaned against the rigid surface of the brick building.

  Three men walked out into the alley, and headed for the sports car. They spoke in raised voices, shouting at one another. One turned toward the entrance and pointed. He threw his arms into the air, then stomped toward the opening.

  The two gang members flanking the agitated man grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled. He lunged forward, shouting at the top of his lungs.

  “What’s the hold up?” Juan said over the ledge.

  I placed my finger to my mouth, then pointed at the alley.

  Juan looked to the ground at the bickering men. He waved me on, motioning for me to hurry up.

  I made for the ladder, and climbed as fast as I could.

  Juan looked to me then back to the ground. He continued to wave me on as he ducked below the ledge.

  The sports car rumbled to life. The deep thumping of the bass echoed up through the narrow corridor.

  I climbed over the edge of the building where Juan was waiting for me.

  “What the hell was that all about?” he asked, leaning over the ledge.

  “No clue, but they seemed pretty pissed at whoever it was they were shouting at,” I replied.

  “Well, that’s at least three guys we won’t have to contend with,” Juan said, as he stepped away from the ledge. He pulled the 9mm from the waistband of his slacks, and nodded toward the door across the way. “Come on.”

  I watched the sports car barrel out of the alley in reverse and onto the street. The wheels cut counterclockwise as the tires slid over the road. The car stopped for a second before it tore off down the street.

  Juan whistled, snaring my attention away from the discord below. I double-timed it across the roof, and caught up with him.

  We approached the faded-gray door leading down from the roof. I stood off to Juan’s side as he trained the 9mm at the entrance. He reached for the doorknob, but didn’t turn it. He leaned in close, and pressed the side of his face against the weathered surface.

  Juan leaned away, then twisted the doorknob, and pulled.

  The hinges squeaked a loud warning.

  I drew a sharp breath.

  Juan paused.

  Silence met our ears. No chatter or footfalls.

  Juan peered around the edge of the door as he opened it wide enough for us to slip through.

  “Shit. It’s pretty dark in here. I’m having a hard time making anything out,” he said. “Watch your footing, and keep hold of the railing.”

  I grabbed the edge of the door as Juan advanced into the murk. The silhouette of his frame diminished as he made his way down the staircase.

  I brought the door to and followed him down the stairs. Both hands slid over the railing as my foot searched for each step.

  We hit the landing, and moved down the hall like thieves in the night. A slight squeak sounded from the soles of our shoes against the floor.

  The faint hint of light played across the wall ahead of us from the adjoining hallway.

  Juan trained the 9mm at the corner as we hugged the wall. He toed the edge, and peered out into the hallway.

  “Damn it,” Juan said under his breath as he pulled away from the corner. “We have inbound.”

  “How many?”

  “One as far as I can tell,” he replied in a whisper. The light grew dim, then surged again. He took another look. “Wait here.”

  “Hold on. Shouldn’t we–”

  Juan ducked, and vanished down the hallway before I could finish speaking.

  I moved up, grabbed the corner of the wall, and watched Juan stalk the black-clad figure who had his back turned to him.

  The man leaned against the wall. A flashlight dangled from his wrist with the strident beam trained at the ground. The smell of weed permeated the air. A red glow grew brighter near his mouth, then dimmed.

  Juan skulked through the shadows as he closed in on his target.

  Blunt Man was none the wiser. He didn’t stop puffing on his joint or look back over his shoulder.

  Juan stood up straight, then lifted his arm into the air. It came down hard on the back of the man’s head.

  Blunt Man’s upper body slouched forward, then slid across the wall.

  Juan reached out and grabbed hold, keeping him from hitting the ground.

  I moved out and down the hall as Juan laid the unconscious man on the tile floor. He pulled the flashlight from his wrist, then stood up.

  The beam dimmed, then flickered. Juan slapped the side of it against his palm until it came back on.

  “You’re lucky you caught him,” I said, while taking a knee at the gangbanger’s side. “If he would’ve hit the floor, that could’ve raised an alarm.”

  Juan trained the light down the long stretch of hallway, then glanced down at me. “He didn’t, so we’re still good. What are you doing?”

  I grabbed the man’s hip, and rolled him over to his side. “I’m seeing if he has a piece.”

  Juan trained his 9mm at my head. “The hell you are.”

  I didn’t stop. My hand felt around his waist, and discovered a pistol tucked in his waistband. “Listen. I’m not going to go through this building with armed men patrolling without a weapon. If you want to shoot me, then do it, but you’ll raise the alarm. I doubt Andrès would take too kindly to you messing up his plans.”

  Juan repositioned his hold on the 9mm as I maneuvered the hardware from Blunt Man’s person.

  I stood up and faced Juan.

  He pursed his lips and glared at me. “Just remember what you stand to lose if you try to do anything stupid.”

  I ejected the magazine, taking stock of the ammo. It was fully loaded. I slapped the mag into place and cycled a round. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten.”

  Juan lowered his 9mm, then backed away from Blunt Man’s body. He faced forward and advanced down the hallway.

  I covered our backs, and trailed a few paces behind as we worked our way through the remainder of the floor.

  We passed closed doors and dark offices. Aside from Blunt Man, it seemed as though there were no other guards patrolling this area.

  A small hint of light loomed in the distance. The darkness faded, revealing hints of the discolored walls and holes punched through the Sheetrock.

  Juan thumbed the flashlight, severing the beam as we approached the open doorway. He paused, then leaned against the jamb of the door.

  I stood across from Juan with my shoulder resting on the small patch of wall to the side of the opening.

  The building beyond the hallway was cavernous. Light from the windows lining the far wall and facing the street illuminated portions of the ground floor.

  Boxes and crates were stacked all over. I caught a glimpse of two armed men weaving through the maze of crates. They vanished within the murk, then reappeared at another spot.

  Juan nudged me with his hand, then pointed at the far corner of the building. “There’s an office over that way. We’ll check that first. Probably our best bet.”

  I nodded.

  Juan took point and hit the landing. He made his way down the staircase with the 9mm trained at the ground floor.<
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  I moved in sync and followed his lead.

  We made our way along the catwalk that lined that outer wall and dipped down toward the lower level. We paused in pockets of shadows as the men patrolling the ground floor passed underneath us.

  The scent of weed was thick. It was just as strong out here as it was in the hallway.

  Juan waved his hand, and got back on the move. We headed down the staircase to the ground floor.

  Being on the lower level made it a bit harder to know where the men were. We couldn’t stand idle for too long, though.

  “Yo, Jimmy. Where is Ray Ray?” a voice asked from nearby. “I haven’t seen that fool for a minute.”

  Footfalls approached our position.

  Juan drifted back into the shadows around the boxes, vanishing from my sight.

  I searched for a place to hide as the man drew closer. I threaded my frame through a narrow gap within the crates, and stopped shy of the far edge.

  “Man, I don’t know where he’s at, Shawn. I’m not his babysitter,” Jimmy replied in a shout from somewhere within the maze of crates. His voice carried through the building, making it difficult to pinpoint where he was. “He could be upstairs checking things out or just goofing off. Who knows?”

  I poked my head out from the crates. It was clear. I had no idea where Juan had gone, and decided to move to the office on my own.

  I slipped out from the gap with both hands clutching the piece, and drifted back toward the wall. I kept to the shadows as much as I could, weaving through the maze of crates and boxes.

  The Young Bloods continued to speak in raised voices, alerting me if they were close at hand. Heavy footfalls tromped up the steel grates of the stairs that led to the upper floor.

  Shit.

  Soon, the cat would be out of the bag.

  I focused on the task at hand, and left any loose ends to Juan.

  The office was in sight.

  A dull light gleamed through the blinds.

  I spotted multiple figures moving within the dimness. Two men from the look of it. I couldn’t tell if one of them was T-dog from where I was. Their backs were facing me. I had to get a closer look.

  There was an open gap between the stack of crates that I hid behind.

  I crouched down, and sprinted toward the wall of windows. I kept below the windowsill. The mixture of voices were muttered and hard to discern. I turned and faced the office, then peered through the blinds just above the windowsill.

  Two men stood in the middle of the office around a desk. They pointed at the table top–tracing their finger over something that I couldn’t make out. One was wearing a red durag that covered the top portion of his head. The other had long dreadlocks that dangled like spider legs past his shoulders. It wasn’t enough for me to tell if it was T-dog or not, but it was better than nothing.

  I moved farther down the wall until I hit the corner. Two quick breaths and I stepped out.

  The tromping of footfalls over the steel grates on the catwalk stopped me cold. “Yo, someone knocked out Ray Ray and took his piece.”

  Great.

  I stood and peered inside the office. The two men turned away from the desk and faced the windows.

  Two sharp reports echoed through the building.

  I flinched and brought my piece to bear, but there was no one within the low light near my position.

  Fire spat from the man perched on the catwalk. He popped off three rounds while dodging return fire from the ground.

  Juan.

  Shit was going sideways fast.

  The door to the office rattled against the jamb, then flew open. Dreadlocks rushed headlong out of the office with his 9mm clutched in his hand.

  I sprung from my crouched position and charged him. Dreadlocks turned to face me as I closed the distance. I put two in his chest. He stumbled backward and collapsed against the wall.

  The man inside the office reached across the table for his piece.

  I fired a warning just above his head.

  He froze, then ducked.

  His hands lifted into the air as he looked my way.

  I stepped inside the office with the barrel of my piece trained at his head.

  He stood straight up. The light from the lantern illuminated the scowl on his face. He looked at me with contempt as I walked toward him.

  “And just who the hell are you?” he asked, revealing a sliver of his gold teeth.

  I spotted the tear drop tattoo on his cheek just below his eye, confirming his identity.

  “I need to ask you a few questions.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  SCARFACE

  The noose was tightening around Lawson’s neck. Soon, he’d be swinging from the gallows.

  Jackal parked a block down from Mr. Compos’s place. We had a good visual of the main entrance of the building. There wasn’t any movement around the large-bay doors or anywhere else close to the structure that we could see.

  Only a few cars passed by. Much like the other neighborhoods we ventured through, this area had little to no activity.

  “You know, for a guy who has a private jet and all, his digs are not as impressive as I thought they’d be,” Jackal said. “Are we sure we have the right place?”

  I tilted my head. “This was the only address listed in Lawson’s black book. If it’s not the right place, then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  “I don’t know, but that crummy looking building doesn’t scream well-to-do gangster, mob boss, or whoever the hell this Andrès Compos is.”

  My phone pinged.

  “Brawny’s team should be here any minute. It looks like they got my message,” I said, while sifting through the texts that had dumped into the phone. A brief window of communications had opened up, allowing the flood of pending messages to pour in. “They didn’t seem too pleased by the little adventure we sent them on from these colorful remarks.”

  “Yeah, well, screw them. They’ll get over it. We’re doing just fine on our own, all things considered. Inviting more people to the party only complicates things.” Jackal examined the gash on his forearm. He pulled the torn fabric of his coat back, then brought his arm closer for a better look.

  I glanced over his way. “How’s the arm?”

  Jackal showed me the gash that was bandaged with a piece of torn cloth he’d ripped from his undershirt. Blood seeped through the white fabric. “Burns a little, but it’s tolerable. How’s that hole in your arm doing?”

  It ached and throbbed, but I ignored the pain. I had cleaned the wound as best I could with a rag found in the Hummer and a bottle of gin from under the seat. It wasn’t the worst injury I’d ever sustained, and it wouldn’t be the last. “I’ll live. I think it’s stopped bleeding for now.”

  A slew of messages from Mr. Coleman had piled up. He wanted status updates, and was getting impatient with the lack of response. Each text grew angrier than the last. The last few were in all caps, and had multiple exclamation points after the threats made.

  I penned a quick apology for the lack of communication due to no cell service, and an update on how things were progressing.

  The bars in the top corner of the phone vanished. The message hung in the outbox, waiting to be sent. He’d get it sooner or later.

  A car stopped behind us. The grumbling of the engine pulled me away from the screen of the phone. I peered into the side-view mirror, watching as Mr. Coleman’s team of mercs got out of the car.

  “This should be fun,” Jackal said. His piece rested in his lap with his index finger over the trigger. “Can we just kill these three idiots and be done with it? Wouldn’t take much more than a slug to the head of each. Boom, boom.”

  “Take it easy,” I said, watching the burly men walk down the passenger side of the Hummer. “They may be of use to us.”

  Jackal glanced my way. “How so?”

  I lowered the tinted window.

  Brawny stood with his two men flanking him on either side.
The sour looks on their faces more than conveyed how they felt.

  “Did you come up with anything useful?” I asked.

  Brawny ripped the sunglasses from his face. He leaned forward, placing his gloved hands on the door as he stared at me. He glanced over to Jackal, who tightened his grip on the piece in his lap. “We didn’t come up with anything, then again, you already knew that.”

  I held my hands up in protest. A twinge of pain lanced through my arm from the wound. I grunted under my breath. “Divide and conquer. If we split up, then we’ll track down the mark faster. The goal here is to wrap up this assignment as quick as possible, is it not?”

  Brawny pointed his finger at me, then over to Jackal. “Don’t give me that shit. I don’t know what you two are scheming here, but Mr. Coleman is not happy at the moment.”

  I pointed at my phone. “Yes. I’m well aware of Mr. Coleman’s frustration. As you’re aware, communications have been spotty, and I just received his battery of messages. I have responded, assuring him that we will complete the task, and are closing in on Lawson. He should be getting it once I’m able to get a connection.”

  The two men flanking Brawny stood like statues with their assault rifles slung over their shoulders. They looked to the street as a car passed by.

  Brawny leaned away from the Hummer, then rubbed the scruff growing on the side of his square chin. “Where’s our target?”

  I pointed through the windshield at the building on the corner a block from us. “One block up. The building on the east side of the street. That’s our target.”

  Brawny placed the ridge of his hand above his brow, and scoped out the structure. “Have you laid eyes on the mark?”

  I shook my head. “We haven’t yet. There hasn’t been much activity, in or out. We were waiting for you to arrive before going in.”

  “Any clue how many threats are inside or what we might be walking into?” Brawny asked. One of his men leaned in close and spoke into his ear.

  I slipped my phone into the back pocket of my trousers. “Not sure, but between the five of us, it shouldn’t be anything we can’t handle. We’re on a time crunch here, so we’ll need to move fast.”

  The two men stepped away from Brawny, and headed back to their ride. “All right. Let’s do this.”

 

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