“Most of the time,” Gene said. “But he’s been paid to be somewhere else tonight.”
Chris had no idea what he meant by that, but decided not to pursue it.
Past the culverts, Gene kept on a course that was taking them to a big yellow crane permanently fixed to the cement apron in front of the warehouses.
When they reached it, he said, “This is where we want to be.”
The crane was well beyond the feeble light cast by the last fixture they’d passed, and it was so dark Chris could barely see Gene’s face.
“What we came to see will be on the other side of this crane in a few minutes, so you need to find a good place where you can watch but still be concealed. One of you can stand up there on the platform by the cab and watch through the cab windows. The other can stand on the steps and look through the lower part of the windows. I’ll stay down here.”
“Are you telling us people are coming? We’ll be watching someone?”
“Not comin’ . . . already here,” Gene said, glancing through the gap between the crane mechanism and the cab. “Get down.”
They each dropped to one knee so they couldn’t be seen. Chris heard the sound of a car engine growing closer. Then it stopped. A door opened. “Are these people dangerous?” she whispered, suddenly feeling breathless and light-headed.
“Mostly just careless,” Gene answered. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
“I think we should go.”
“Too late. If we move now, they’ll see us. You might as well take a look.”
Upset at Gene and herself for letting him get her and Michael into this position, Chris nevertheless was curious about what was going to happen. She turned to Michael. “He’s right. I’m going up there.”
“Wait a minute,” Gene said. “He always stands by his car and takes a quick look around before he becomes comfortable.” Staying low, he moved to the rear of the crane and slowly rose into a crouch, which allowed him to look out through the angle formed by the crane mechanism and the flatbed on which it was mounted.
The seconds crawled by, then he whispered, “It’s okay now.”
With Michael close behind, Chris climbed the stairs to the cab and went to the spot Gene had suggested. Michael, too, followed Gene’s advice and remained on the steps just high enough so he could see through the cab’s widows.
Chapter 36
CHRIS CAREFULLY LEANED forward and took a look.
Twenty yards away, a blond man was standing at the edge of the dock facing the bay with a flashlight. He flicked it on and off a couple of times, then turned and walked back to the silver Lexus that had brought him. Able now to see his face, Chris recognized him as Paul Danner, Iliad’s CEO.
Danner opened the car and tossed the flashlight inside. Leaving the door open, he produced a cell phone from somewhere on his person. Seeing his phone reminded Chris that hers was on. Fearing that if it rang, it would give them away, she switched it to mute.
Danner’s call lasted only a few seconds. He put the phone away, then reached into the car’s front seat and grabbed a laptop computer that he put on top of the car. He flipped the computer open and began tapping away on the keyboard.
He was still typing a few minutes later when a white truck pulled onto the dock, and the driver jockeyed it around so the rear end was facing the bay. Danner closed his computer and put it back in the car. He walked over and began motioning the truck to back up.
There was no lettering on the truck, but it had the same general appearance as the Iliad truck Chris and Michael had seen yesterday. Looking as closely as she could under the circumstances, Chris thought she could see that a white rectangle of some material had been applied to the truck where the Iliad lettering was on the other one they’d seen.
Danner guided the truck backward until it was just a few feet from the dock’s edge. He stopped it with a raised palm and a shout. “Whoa. That’s good.”
The driver, a big guy with curly dark hair and wearing jeans and a gray sweatshirt that covered his beer belly like the cover on a bowling ball, stepped onto the dock. They exchanged a few words that Chris couldn’t hear, then the big guy went around to the back of the truck and opened the doors.
An interval ensued in which the driver lit up a cigarette and Danner paced. Soon, the steady throb of an engine drifted in from the bay. The sound steadily grew louder. Chris saw two tiny lights appear a short distance out in the water. A launch slipped into view and cut its engines back to a burble. The craft slowly advanced toward the dock, then, because the water was so far below the dock, Chris lost sight of it.
Danner and the truck driver moved to the edge of the dock and looked down. After a minute or so, a head appeared at their feet, someone from the boat, coming up a ladder. Danner extended his hand to help the climber up, and a man dressed in dark clothing and wearing a knit seaman’s cap stepped onto the dock. He and Danner shook hands and spoke to each other, but once again, Chris couldn’t hear what was said.
The seaman gave Danner the briefcase he was carrying. Danner took it to his car and put it on the roof, as he had the laptop, and popped it open. He inspected the contents, then shut it and put it in the trunk. He gave the truck driver a thumbs-up, and the driver reached into the truck for a small cardboard box. He relayed the box to the seaman, who looked over the edge of the dock and dropped it, presumably to someone on the boat.
Chris knelt, looked down at Gene, and motioned for him to come closer, which he did. “What are they loading, drugs?” she asked in a whisper.
“Crystal meth,” Gene said. “They make it at the plant and sell it here at the same time every week.”
Chris returned to a standing position in time to see the driver close up the truck. There was another verbal exchange between Danner and the seaman, then the seaman patted Danner on the shoulder. They spoke some more, and Danner laughed. Danner said something to the truck driver and then headed for the ladder that led to the boat. The seaman followed, leaving the truck driver to watch the vehicles.
The driver lit another cigarette and wandered down the dock, where he stood for a moment looking out over the bay. Then he sat down, legs dangling from the edge of the dock.
Seeing him on the other side of the truck, his view of Danner’s car totally blocked, a surge of adrenaline rolled through Chris like a tsunami. Even before arriving in Newark, she’d wished there was some way she could get access to Iliad’s files. As much as she wanted that, she knew it was never going to happen. But the next best thing, Danner’s laptop, was sitting unattended, barely ten yards away. And she was sure he hadn’t locked his car.
Had she not been through that terrible experience on Stone Mountain, there was no way she’d have considered doing what she was thinking about. But having been so close to death that night, this seemed, by comparison, only minimally hazardous, especially since she had her cell phone.
Just a few seconds was all it would take.
As she teetered on the brink of go or no go, her body went on red alert, internal buzzers sounding, lights flashing.
The moment wouldn’t last forever.
If she was going, it had to be now.
She moved quickly to the steps. “I’m coming down.”
Michael descended and remained by the steps in case she needed a hand. Reaching the cement apron, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and pressed it into Michael’s hand. “I want that laptop’s hard drive. You two head back the way we came in. I’ll get the drive and follow you. If anything goes wrong, call nine-one-one.”
Before either of the men could say anything, she darted across the dock to a cluster of blue-painted machinery with tarps lashed over the tops.
Michael couldn’t believe what she was doing. But there she was, running along the machinery, toward Danner’s car.
“Chris . .
. don’t do this,” he whispered. “Come back.”
But she either didn’t hear or chose to ignore him. She cleared the machinery and was now out in the open.
Michael certainly wasn’t going to leave her and go with Gene to some safer place. And he wasn’t going to hide behind the crane while she was at risk. As for calling 911, now seemed like a good time, and if that somehow screwed up the chances of getting that hard drive, it was worth it, because what Chris was doing was nuts.
Needing to get out there with her, and not even knowing how to tell the cops exactly where they were, he turned to Gene, who was now standing beside him. “Take this phone and call nine-one-one.” He gave Gene a quick lesson on the phone’s operation, then ran for Danner’s car, where Chris was yanking on the passenger door.
LOCKED, WOULDN’T YOU know it, Chris thought. She’d hoped this side of the car was open, so she wouldn’t have to go in through the driver’s side, where she’d be more easily seen. There was no way of knowing how long Danner would be on the boat. He could come up on the dock at any moment. Or that other bozo could decide to stroll back down here.
MICHAEL HAD EXPLAINED the phone so quickly, Gene wasn’t sure which button he was supposed to push to send his call. He thought he knew, but in the poor light behind the crane, he couldn’t read the lettering on that button even though the keypad was illuminated. Not wanting to make a mistake, he moved forward where the light was better. As he did, he stumbled over one of the brackets that held the crane to the cement. The phone flew from his hand, skittered onto the dock, and slipped through a gap in the planking. A second later, he heard a faint splash when it hit the water.
“CHRIS, FORGET THE computer, and let’s get out of here,” Michael whispered, arriving at her side. “This is a drug deal. These people are dangerous.”
“I want that hard drive,” she replied. “And I’m not leaving without it.”
“The car’s locked.”
“The other door isn’t.”
Michael was tempted to grab her and drag her away, but he couldn’t bring himself to lay his hands on her like that. “Then stay here. I’ll get it.”
He ran around to the other side of the car and jerked the driver’s door open. Ignoring the overhead light that flicked on, he ducked inside and grabbed the computer. Before he could leave, Chris tapped on the passenger window and motioned for him to unlock that door. Puzzled, he did what she asked.
Chris pulled the door open. “Give it to me, then get out and close that side.”
Michael handed her the computer and crawled out of the car. He shut his door as quietly as possible.
Chris closed hers with the same care, then knelt to remove the laptop’s hard drive. She’d decided to take just the drive, hoping that if Danner returned to his car before they were well gone, he wouldn’t notice anything was wrong.
On the other side of the Lexus, Michael heard footsteps coming closer; the truck driver returning. What was Chris doing over there? She had the computer, but hadn’t left. The footsteps were too close to risk telling her to get moving. Making a quick decision, he darted to the truck and stood with his back against it.
The footsteps were slow, so the guy must not have realized anything was wrong. Aware that what was about to transpire was high on the list of things surgeons shouldn’t do with their bare hands, Michael kept his eyes trained on the spot where he guessed the guy’s head would be when he rounded the back of the truck.
As the driver stepped into view, Michael pivoted so he could use the full force of his upper body, and he brought his right fist around in a looping arc. The blow struck the guy full on his nose, breaking it and producing a geyser of blood. Michael had known even before he’d struck that this had to be a one-punch fight. And it was, for the driver’s legs gave way, and he went down.
If he’d fallen forward or backward, everything would have been fine, but he fell sideways. Seeing what was coming, Michael tried to catch him, but the guy was too heavy, and he went over the edge of the dock like a sandbag.
ON THE BOAT below, Danner and the two men he’d been dealing with for over a year were just shaking hands to seal an agreement to increase future shipments by thirty percent when the truck driver hit the water. The cold brine instantly brought him back from punch land, and he came up thrashing and spitting.
Enrique, the seaman who’d been on the dock with Danner, grabbed the driver’s hand and with the help of his partner, Luis, they hauled him aboard.
“What the hell happened?” Danner asked the driver, whose nose was still bleeding.
“Somebody sucker punched me,” he replied, wiping brine and blood away from his nose with the back of his hand.
“Everybody up on the dock,” Danner yelled.
AS THE DRIVER toppled into the bay, Michael ran for the Lexus, where Chris hadn’t yet figured out how to remove the laptop’s hard drive.
“Come on, we have to go . . . now,” he said.
With hard drive removal suddenly a moot issue, Chris got to her feet. Still holding the computer, she followed Michael at a dead run.
When they reached the crane, Gene, who’d seen what had happened and heard Danner yell, came out of its shadows. “Not this way . . . over here . . .”
Instead of leading them back the way they’d come, he ran toward the tarp-covered machinery. Not seeing the point of this, Chris and Michael hesitated.
“Come on,” Gene hissed, waving them his way. “I know what I’m doin’.”
It was clear to both of them that they didn’t have any better options. Fervently hoping that Gene wasn’t overestimating himself, Chris ran to join him. Her actions pulled Michael along.
BACK AT THE truck, Danner and his three accomplices were now on the dock, all of them armed with automatics. Danner checked the truck and then his car. “Damn it . . . somebody’s stolen my laptop. I want these people. Enrique and I’ll go this way,” he said, pointing in the direction of the crane. “You two, that way. Whoever’s here has got to be found.” Before giving chase, he opened the trunk, made sure the money was there, and grabbed a flashlight.
Chris and Michael followed Gene through the maze formed by the blue machinery to another ladder leading to the water.
“Our best bet is to go under the dock,” Gene whispered. He swung onto the ladder and started down.
As much as she’d risked to get her hands on it, Chris was afraid she might drop the computer if she tried to navigate the ladder with it. Reluctantly, she tucked it under a nearby tarp and followed Gene.
At the waterline, Gene stepped onto a narrow plank that ran perpendicular to the length of the dock, leaving room for Chris to move down the ladder and Michael to get on it. Bracing a hand against one of the planks that made up the cross ties of the decking above, Gene helped Chris off the ladder. At high tide the plank on which Gene stood was submerged, which meant it was coated with marine algae.
“Watch yourself,” Gene said. “It’s slippery.”
Chris gingerly stepped onto the plank and slowly shifted her weight to that foot. Suddenly, she was sliding.
She fought to keep her balance.
She couldn’t . . .
She was going down . . .
But Gene’s grip tightened, and he became a rock. With his help, she found her footing.
ENRIQUE GUTIERREZ, THIRTY-EIGHT years of age, still owned the Texas state high school pole vault record. This had not kept him from twice serving time for drug trafficking, and he had no intention of becoming a three-time loser. So he was highly motivated to find the hijos de putas who were screwing around on the dock. This would have been a hell of a lot easier had he thought to bring a flashlight from the boat, because the machine maze was a dark and dangerous place. And as he explored it, his nerves felt like they were running on the outside of his skin, making him ready to shoot anything
that moved.
Although Enrique tried to make no sound, the water under the dock reflected and magnified his every step, so Chris and Gene were well aware of his presence. And Michael was still out on the ladder. Afraid even to breathe, Chris tensed for the worst.
Michael didn’t have the advantage of an echo effect where he stood, so the slight sounds of Enrique’s movements were masked by the gentle slap of waves against the dock pilings. But he didn’t have to hear Enrique to know he was somewhere in the maze. How could he not check out such a likely hiding place? The question was, would he notice the ladder?
Michael needed to get out of sight, but was afraid that if he moved, he’d make a noise that would give him away. So he remained still, hugged the ladder, and tried to make himself as thin as possible.
On the dock, as Enrique edged into position to look on the bay side of the last machine in the group, he tried to stay as far from the blind corner as possible. This caused him to brush against the tarp covering the machine behind him.
The rasping sound of Enrique’s back against the tarp was so close it sent Michael’s senses to DEFCON four. The conclusion of this scenario was surely now only seconds away. If whoever was up there discovered the ladder and stepped near enough, Michael decided he’d try to grab the guy’s feet and dump him in the bay. But assuming he could even accomplish that, if the guy screamed or got off a shot, the rest of them would come running.
Of course, it was important that the people he was searching for be found, but Enrique was, in a way, pleased that he hadn’t encountered anyone among the machines and had not been ambushed himself. He was now standing less than three feet from the ladder, and even in the poor light, all he had to do to see it was look down.
Chapter 37
ENRIQUE WAS SEARCHING for people, not ants, so when he rounded the last machine and found no one hiding behind it, he had no reason to look down. Though they were still in great peril, Michael, Chris, and Gene all felt relieved as Enrique hurried from the machine maze to search elsewhere.
The Judas Virus Page 30