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Ten more minutes and we arrive at our location.
The driver parks a distance away from the warehouse, and I instruct him to wait for us there.
“Come,” I motion to Noelle to follow me.
We’re traveling light, and though I’m willing to pay any amount, the transaction will not be in cash. The man had been too scared to carry it with him, so we’d already discussed doing the exchange via crypto currency—the perfect way for him to stay under the radar.
Pushing the door to the warehouse open, I hold my arm out to block Noelle in case it’s not safe. We slowly move inside, and I look for any hint of movement.
“Santiago?” I call out, my voice echoing in the empty building.
“Are you alone?” Another voice answers.
“It’s just me and my wife. You’re safe. You can come out.”
There’s a brief pause before I hear shuffling.
“Come to the center of the room,” he instructs.
“We’re here,” I say as we stop right in the middle of the room.
A moment later, a scrawny man comes out from his hiding place, slowly coming towards us.
He’s wearing a cap that he tips lower on his face. He still hasn’t looked at us, his eyes skittering all around the warehouse, his body tensing at every little noise. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for an execution squad to jump out from the shadows and take a hit at him.
“Are you sure you’re alone?” He asks again.
“Yes. I promised you and I won't break my word,” I add, a little annoyed at his paranoia.
He’s maybe ten feet away from us when he suddenly stops. His gaze is still on the ground, his hands fidgeting in front of him.
He’s jittery. Maybe this is more than simple paranoia…
“The money. I want one million dollars.”
I grimace at the amount, but I expected him to ask for an exorbitant sum.
“The footage?”
“I’ll give it to you after you transfer the money.”
“Of course,” I nod. “I just need to ascertain if the files do exist first. You have your own trust issues, I have mine.”
He mulls my words for a second before he gives a brisk nod.
“I’ll send a snippet to your phone.”
He takes out his phone from his pants, and with a few finger movements, he successfully sends me a clip.
A beep alerts me that I’ve received it.
I open it, seeing the familiar corridor at the facility and some known figures as they come and go.
Pursing my lips, I have to agree that itisthe drug facility at the hacienda. Another beep and I see a screenshot of the list of files. There are hundreds if not more of videos, and the dates all fit with the time I’d been there.
“There are a thousand five hundred eighty videos,” Santiago mentions. “Well worth the one million.”
I nod, satisfied that Santiago is telling the truth.
