Page 73 of John’s Yearning

All of a sudden, lightning split the sky, accompanied by a thunderclap. John looked up into the sky. The dark clouds he’d seen in the distance were now right above the city and the docks.

“Shit!” John hissed and exchanged a look with Virginia.

“Rain,” she said with concern, just as the first drops hit the ground. “If this lasts, we’re not gonna be invisible for long.”

“John,” Grayson’s voice came through the mic. “Customs truck approaching. To your left.”

John spun his head in the indicated direction and saw the white van with Cyrillic script on its sides and front hood. “How do you know it’s customs?”

“I took a few years of Russian. Trust me.”

“Fuck!” John cursed. “Get out of the rain, all of you, take cover where you can. We’re gonna have to wait until they leave.”

He watched his colleagues scatter, taking cover where they could find it. John motioned to a stack of pallets covered with a tarp, and ran toward it, Virginia and Zane following him. They pressed themselves close to it, the overhanging tarp providing some protection from the rain.

The van stopped near the red container, and two men got out. They marched toward the three who’d just come down the gangplank. The three didn’t appear to be surprised or scared. Instead, they walked straight toward them, exchanging handshakes. Then one of the three men from the ship pulled a thick envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to the customs official.

“Payoff,” John said, looking at Zane, who nodded.

“Customs knows what’s in the container. They want their cut.”

That changed things. John would never risk the lives of innocent government officials, but these guys were dirty. And if they allowed child trafficking, they had to be taken out, or this practice would continue.

“Change of plans,” John said into his mic. “Treat the customs officials as hostiles. They’re going down.”

The two customs officers turned and walked back to their van.

“Move in, now! Don’t let them get away. Damian, Benjamin, Logan, you take the customs guys. Enya, your team secures the girls. We’ll take the three from the ship. Everybody, attack!”

John charged toward the three thugs from the ship, who were now making their way to the red container. Zane and Virginia were by his side. He felt the rain pelting down on him now, and though it didn’t penetrate the Kevlar suit, the drops clung to the material, making his silhouette visible to anybody who was looking in his direction. Which one of the men suddenly did.

Startled, the man froze. Then his head whipped from left to right, then back again, and with a curse in Russian, he alerted his friends. All three drew their guns and aimed.

“Fuck!”

Still running, John took the safety off his semi-automatic, when a shot hit him. He felt the impact, and it jerked him back for a moment, but he caught himself quickly and kept running, aiming his own weapon now. However, the rain pounding down on him obscured his vision, the water clinging to his visor like rain to a windshield whose wipers weren’t working.

Loud thunder exploded in the sky, just as more shots rang out, those from his own gun, and the weapons of his colleagues. One of the men from the ship dropped to the ground like a felled tree, while the other two ran for cover.

John didn’t have time to see how the twins were faring with the two customs officials, while he dodged the kidnappers’ bullets. They had taken cover behind a stack of pallets, while John was still out in the open, crossing the large empty space between the warehouse and the ship.

His idea of taking out the criminals silently and stealthily, or to question them before killing them, had gone up in smoke, or rather, in rain. This was getting messy.

“I’ll get around the other side,” Zane announced over the mic and ran between two containers toward the right.

“Shit, Zane!” Virginia hissed. “You’ll be out of my range.”

But Zane didn’t reply. And it didn’t matter much anyway. They were already partially visible.

Finally John reached the stack of pallets where the thugs were hiding. He tried to look through the gaps in the wood and saw movement, but couldn’t get a clear view through his wet visor. Nevertheless, he aimed his gun through the gap and pulled the trigger.

A man cried out, then cursed in Russian. He’d hit the guy, but not killed him. Next to John, Virginia appeared, her gun ready as well. John focused again, trying to figure out which way the guy had run, when he suddenly saw a nozzle pointed in his general direction.

“Duck!” he screamed to Virginia and they both dove for the ground.

More lightning lit up the sky, and thunder rolled over them like a tank charging into a war zone. John looked over to Virginia, but she was unharmed. He motioned for her to stay down, then looked around for anything he could use to distract the two criminals. He ripped a two-foot-long plank from one of the outer pallets, and lifted it with his left hand, waving it in the air, while he gripped his gun tightly with his right.

As expected, there was a movement on the other side of the stack. The thug fired, aiming for the plank, which splintered. John dropped it, and aimed. This time the bullet found its mark. The man dropped like a sack of potatoes.