by G. K. Parks
The metal squealed loudly as I passed the second grate, and I briefly thought it might pop open under my weight and send me tumbling to the ground. Luckily, it remained intact as I continued onward.
“Stop,” Bastian urged, and I halted my progress. “I think the next three units have been modified to consist of a single, large unit. Can you get visual confirmation?”
“Hang on, I’m approaching the slatted grate now.” I inched forward and looked down, but I couldn’t see anything. “I’m not sure. I can attempt to remove the grate.”
“Negative, continue on,” Mercer ordered. “You’ve wasted enough time.” Gritting my teeth around the flashlight, I dragged my body across the next grate, but this time, I was sure the air duct leaned to the right. Maybe I was hallucinating. I maneuvered further along the path when the metal let out a shrill shriek. Something popped from above, and the metal duct lowered.
“Love, you might want to hurry,” Bastian interjected. “Something’s not–”
But I didn’t hear what else he said because the part of the air duct I was in came unhinged from its place on the ceiling, and without warning, it crashed into the ground.
“Parker, do you copy?” I shook my head and tried to get up, but I was stuck inside a crushed tin can.
“Hang on,” I muttered, bending one of the metal sides out of my way and crawling out of the dented and broken duct.
“Are you okay?” Bastian asked.
“My dignity might be irreparably damaged,” I muttered. My hip took the brunt of the impact, and I already had a knot the size of a baseball over my pelvic bone. “Hostiles?” I asked, standing in the dim lighting and trying to make sure no one was about to jump me. The room was large, dark, and cavernous, or at least that’s how it appeared after exiting a two by two rectangle.
“Get to the door. Now,” Bastian insisted.
Twenty-eight
The flashlight was on the fritz, and I attempted to maneuver the interior using my other senses. There was a faint light coming from somewhere, but I wasn’t sure where. I stuck to the wall, making my way across the back of the room. I found a ninety-degree angle where a movable metal wall had been placed to separate the storage units. Following it forward, I noticed light coming from underneath an opening at the end. Bastian was right; at least one other unit was opened to allow interconnectedness between the interior storage units.
“Bloody hell, get going,” Mercer growled.
I decided to throw caution to the wind, seeing as how they were my eyes at the moment, and I double-timed it to the front wall. Giving the flashlight a good shake, a beam of light came out of the cracked contraption. “I’m at the door. There’s a wire connected to some type of conduit,” I relayed.
“Any sign of a det cord or incendiary device?” Bastian asked.
“I don’t see one.” I’m sure my answer was subpar by Mercer’s standards, but I wasn’t positive of anything.
“Explain what you see,” Bastian ordered, and I gave him the specifications on the number panel in front of me, the wire, and the colors of cord protruding from the conduit and around the door. “Do you see any type of pressure sensor?”
“No.”
“Okay,” he blew out a breath, “avoid the edges, Hans, when you take out the middle of the door.”
“Light ‘em up,” Mercer gave the command. “Parker, scout the inside and check the connected units for signs of surveillance.”
“Roger,” I responded, hoping my flashlight wouldn’t go dead. I moved back to the opening I found, and holding the flashlight in my left, under my poised gun, I slowly entered the next unit. In the center of a room was an old rusted row of lockers and attached to them, or perhaps behind them, was a metal cage. The cage itself was maybe six feet high, four feet wide, and eight feet in length. There was a single cot inside.
Something scraped across the expanse of the unit, and I ducked behind the lockers. “Parker, someone’s approaching from the other end of the room,” Bastian informed me. I didn’t respond as I shimmied along the lockers, wondering if I should extinguish the light or use it to blind my incoming target. “Make that two.” I held my breath, straining to identify the location. “Shit, do not engage. He has a child with him.” I bit my lip to keep from responding. Fuck.
“Parker, we will provide a distraction and take out the hostile. Get to the kid,” Mercer commanded. I extinguished the light and waited. What was happening on the other side of these blasted lockers? “Bastian, make sure you jam all frequencies so they can’t radio for help. We’re going silent until the threat is neutralized,” Mercer commanded. Static filled my earpiece, and then a loud bang came from the other unit as the middle portion of the metal door clanged to the floor.
“What the fuck?” a man exclaimed. A metal gate latched closed, and then there was movement at the other end of the lockers. I barely glimpsed a figure going into the other room as I went around the other side.
“Catherine? Adalina?” I asked. I wasn’t sure who might be imprisoned inside the steel cage. My gun was still at the ready, and I flipped the flashlight on. Sounds of a scuffle were growing louder from the next room. The flashlight came on, and I saw the big blue eyes of Catherine Cale staring back at me through the cage. “Catherine,” I said relieved, “I’m Alexis. I work with your Uncle Nick. I’m going to get you out of here.” She looked like a deer caught in headlights, ready to hide or possibly scream. “Is Adalina here? Have you seen her? Are you hurt?” I had a million questions and not much time. I shoved my nine millimeter into the holster and went to the door of the cage. A padlock kept it shut.
“Addy’s not here. We were always together, but yesterday, they separated us.” Catherine sniffled loudly on the brink of bursting into tears. “Where’s Uncle Nick?” The kid was smart. She wasn’t falling for anyone’s line of bullshit. The only problem was I was speaking the truth.
“He got hurt, but he’s been trying to find you. He asked me to help. I’ve talked to your mom and dad. They can’t wait to get you back.”
I scanned the area for something strong enough to break the padlock. Locating a fire extinguisher against the wall, I picked it up. Yelling came from the other room, and I could make out Mercer’s threatening voice.
“Alexis,” she said uncertainly. She sat on the cot and pulled her legs in front of her, making herself as small as possible.
“Are you hurt?” I asked, slamming the extinguisher down, but the lock didn’t budge.
“No. The men let us have food and blankets and stuff.” She flinched as I brought the extinguisher down again. “I want to go home.”
I raised it again and brought it down as hard as I could. The padlock broke in two, and I was pulling the remaining metal piece free when I heard a gunshot. Shit.
Opening the door, I dove into the cage with Catherine, grabbed her from her perch on the bed, and shoved her underneath the cot, throwing myself into the space between the cot and the lockers to shield her from any bullets that might rip past.
“Bloody hell, do you have him or not?” Mercer squawked as the scuffle grew louder.
There was another loud bang, and the floor trembled in what felt like an earthquake. There was more crashing and metal scraping, and Catherine screamed beneath me. When everything settled, I shushed her with my best attempt at soothing. She was crying, but the screaming stopped.
“Clear,” I heard through my earpiece. “Parker, are you still alive?”
“Yes.” I tried to back out from underneath the cot but felt something hard against my back. “I have Catherine. Adalina’s not here,” I responded. Catherine quieted and listened to me, probably wondering who I was talking to.
I heard footsteps. “The metal wall tumbled when that bloke decided to resist detainment. It’s crashed into the lockers, and they tipped over. It might take some effort to get you out,” Mercer said. Great, I was pinned under part of the cage, some lockers, and the thin, movable wall.
“A little help,” I retort
ed.
“I called the coppers. That Heathcliff fellow is on his way. But there are bigger fish to catch, and the clock’s ticking on saving my girl.” Mercer turned on his heel. “Thanks for the help.”
“Wait,” I called after him, but he left. “Bastian,” I tried speaking through the earpiece, hoping for someone to stay behind and get me out of this mess.
“Sorry, love,” he replied, and then he must have disconnected my earpiece because all I heard was static.
“Fu—dge,” I had to remember I was in the presence of a seven year old, “sorry your rescue is taking longer than I anticipated. Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she said timidly, “I don’t like the dark, and I don’t like it here.”
“Detective Heathcliff is on his way. He’ll get us out in no time.”
As we remained under the cot, waiting for help to arrive, I had to remember I was dealing with a child who had been kidnapped and away from home for the last twelve days. Asking a million interrogation questions about how she was taken and by who was not the way to go. Instead, I rambled on about how much I liked the couch in her living room and how long her uncle and I had known each other. She eventually relaxed, and her sniffling ebbed. Sirens were approaching, and I was glad we were getting out of here. After today’s adventure, I was seriously considering becoming claustrophobic.
“Parker?” I recognized Thompson’s voice, and I yelled a response. Within seconds, he was crouched on the floor with a flashlight in hand directly in front of us on the outside of the cage across from the cot. “Catherine?”
“Uncle Tommy,” she squealed happily.
“Thompson, get us out of here.” I resisted the urge to beg.
He looked at me uncertainly. “No problem.” There was something he wasn’t saying, and I figured there might be a few bodies in the other room. “You hanging in there, Cathy?”
“Uh-huh. Alexis has been telling me stories about Uncle Nick.”
“Has she now?” Thompson motioned someone over and took a pair of bolt cutters from them. “She’s really great at storytelling isn’t she? Did she tell you about the time she got stuck underneath the bed in her apartment, and the fire department had to come in because they were afraid the entire structure was unstable and would collapse on her.”
“No.” Catherine seemed puzzled.
“She’s been here long enough, Thompson. No more stories. I can hold it up while you get her out.”
“Parker, this isn’t a good idea.”
“It’s been long enough. I’ll be fine. It’s not that heavy.” He didn’t like my idea, but he wanted to get her out of here just as quickly as I did. He cut through most of the steel cage, enough so he could pull it free so she could slide out. “On the count of three, I’ll lift up, and Catherine you’re going to slide over to Uncle Tommy.”
“Okay,” she said uncertainly. We counted down, and after two, I struggled to raise myself against the underside of the cot. I managed to get my arms underneath me and lifted up, pressing my back into the bottom of the cot as Thompson removed the piece of cage and helped Catherine get free.
“She’s clear,” he announced as my arms trembled under the weight of the combined wall and lockers. They collapsed without my permission, and I heard more metal clanking and slamming. The cot above me tipped on its side as the legs closest to the cage broke off further trapping me. “Parker?”
“I’m okay,” I called. There was a small triangle directly in front of me where I could still see out, but on either side, I was trapped by the broken cot or the broken lockers. “Take her home, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Rescue squad’s on the way. There are a few uniformed officers positioned around, so if you need anything.”
“I got it.”
He lifted Catherine up, and I watched his footsteps disappear. I closed my eyes, assessing my situation. My hip was throbbing, my arms were sore, but I could move all of my appendages, and I didn’t think I was bleeding or impaled by any of the metal. Honestly, I felt pretty damn fantastic. Catherine was safe. She was on her way home or to the hospital or whatever. Her mom and dad would be thrilled. O’Connell would be thrilled. Today, the score was good guys – one, Four Seasons – zip. Although, questions about who they were and what Mercer was going to do threatened to ruin my euphoria, so I decided to stick with happy as my main emotion for the time being.
“Jesus, Parker.” There was a pair of shined shoes in front of me, and then Heathcliff got down on his stomach and stared at me from the other side of the cage. “How the hell do you get yourself into these tight situations?”
“Did you come up with that on the drive here?” I asked sarcastically.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m great.” And that was my sincerest sentiment. Heathcliff matched my grin with one of his own.
“Well, while we wait for the rescue squad to show up, do you want to give me your statement?”
“Are you kidding?”
“No.” He continued to smile. “She’s safe, so guess who gets to go back to work.”
“Lucky bastard.” I told him what I knew, leaving out as much as I could when it came to the ex-SAS team.
“Damn, you really need to lay off the donuts,” he remarked as I concluded the story. “Crashing through the metal skeletal structure of a building,” he shook his head and made a tsk, tsk sound, “I’m signing you up for Jenny Craig tomorrow.”
“Only if you get me a cheeseburger first, I’m starving. My dinner was interrupted by Mercer’s call, and I’ve only had a rotten granola bar all day.”
“One made out of lead,” he teased. It was easier to joke then it was to consider the possibility of the wall and lockers further collapsing on top of me. “As soon as they get you out of here, I’m taking you for that burger.”
“You better.”
The rescue squad arrived and finished evaluating the situation while Heathcliff and I chatted. He got off the floor at their request. He disappeared and came back a few seconds later.
“Ma’am,” one of the firemen said, leaning down next to Heathcliff, “we’ll try to saw through the metal and remove the rubble, layer by layer. If you feel anything shift, an increase in pressure, or the metal becomes too hot, signal to your friend here, and he’ll have us stop immediately.”
“Great plan, but let’s drop the ma’am. It’s Alex.”
He nodded and stood up. Heathcliff kept an eye on me, but the sound of the electric saw cutting through steel made conversation impossible. At least the darkness was replaced by dozens of flood lights that lit the room up brighter than a discount store during the Christmas holiday shopping season.
Thirty minutes later, the lockers were lifted off of me, and the remnants of the cage were shredded. One of the firemen stepped in to help me up. I was unsteady and sore from my earlier fall, so he insisted I get the quick once over by the paramedics parked outside. After checking my scrapes and bruises, I was free to go.
“Were you serious about the cheeseburger?” Heathcliff asked as we drove toward the precinct.
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life, except for the fact that I want some fries to go with it.” I laughed, and he stopped at a twenty-four hour fast food joint before continuing to the station. We had a lot to discuss.
Twenty-nine
“I thought you were starving.” Heathcliff jerked his chin at the brown paper sack that contained my dinner. I nibbled on a couple of fries and took a bite out of the burger, but after everything that happened inside the storage unit, I was too keyed up to eat.
“Maybe I’ve been reconsidering the calories.”
He glanced at the icepack against my hip. His idea, not mine. We were in the bullpen at the precinct, and I made myself at home behind O’Connell’s desk. Heathcliff was next to me, and Detective Jacobs was sitting at Thompson’s desk across from us.
Jacobs skimmed through the report one last time and scrunched his face, his eyebrows knitting toge
ther in thought. “You have a few gaps in your story.”
“Must have hit my head during the fall,” I suggested, “might have impacted my memory.”
Jacobs didn’t look convinced as he narrowed his eyes. “Okay, I’m willing to accept that you received an anonymous tip that the girl was being kept in the storage unit. I’m even willing to go along with the fact that you somehow managed to climb up to that air vent by yourself and crawled along until you came to the middle unit.”
“There’s no somehow about it. She fell through the ceiling and took half the ductwork with her,” Heathcliff interjected, and I gave him a warning look.
“And sure you managed to break into the cage and rescue Catherine Cale,” Jacobs paused, “but that doesn’t explain the hole blown through the metal door, the collapsed room divider and lockers, and the blood spatter inside the connected unit.”
“Don’t forget the bullet holes,” Heathcliff offered, and I kicked him in the shin.
“I can charge you with interfering in a police investigation,” Jacobs threatened. I shrugged and decided to give the fries another try. “Or are you going to tell me what really happened?”
“I told you what happened. Either I’m not aware of how the rest of it went, or I don’t feel it’s in the best interest of the remaining kidnapped girl to divulge this information to you at the moment.” I was stubborn, but the last thing Mercer needed was flashing lights impeding his rescue attempt. If it was just Mercer’s ass on the line, I would have drawn Jacobs a diagram of everything, but I was concerned with Adalina’s safety. Someone had to be. “But here’s a helpful hint, if you’re arresting me, you have to read my Miranda’s first, and yes, I would like a lawyer present before any questioning commences.” Jacobs looked to Heathcliff for guidance, but Heathcliff reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of fries instead.