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Colton dropped to a crouch and crept forward, readying his shotgun. But I put a hand on his shoulder. “Wait,” I whispered.
He turned to me. I slicked my soaked hair back from my eyes. “If Maravic is in there, don’t get into a fight with him. Shoot him or run but don’t get close. He’ll kill you.” I could hear the fear in my voice and that was good, because it would make him take the warning seriously, but bad because I could see the protective fury sparking in his eyes. He hated Maravic for making me live in fear and anger for so long.
“Promise me, Colton,” I insisted.
He was silent for a long time, then gave me a grudging nod. We moved on, my heart thumping. The thought of something happening to him was terrifying. And the fact it terrified me was scarier still: I’d forgotten how weak caring makes you.
We slunk past the old brown van that was parked outside and crept up to the door. When we inched it open, we could hear voices deeper inside.
No lights were on and with the sky dark outside it was difficult to make anything out. But as my eyes adjusted to the gloom I gradually realized we were in an extension, really just a big shed tacked onto the main building for extra storage. The walls and roof were sheets of corrugated iron and rickety shelves were packed with cans of auto paint, oil, and jerry cans of fuel. In the middle of the room sat an old Honda with its hood lifted, spider webs stretched across its gaping maw. The car must have been sitting there since the place went out of business, years ago.
An open roller door led into the main garage and we crept through. There was an open area with three more cars, but it was dark and silent. The voices were coming from an office. We moved closer, hiding behind an SUV that had been stripped of most of its bodywork. I froze when I heard Maravic’s voice. “Everyone has passports? Good. Wait: which way did you come in? The back way? Did you lock the door?”
Footsteps. We pressed ourselves close to the car as the guy we’d followed stalked past us, sighing in irritation, and went to the door we’d entered by. There was a rattle of chains and the sound of a padlock snapping closed. Chyort! How were we going to get out?
The man returned to the others. We peeked cautiously over the hood of the SUV...
There were six men, all with the lean, muscled build of mercenaries. They were standing in the garage’s office, which had windows that looked out over the main room. I could see the big-screen TV the guy at Butcher’s had told us about. And standing at the front of the office, briefing his men, was Maravic.
It felt like someone had plunged my heart into ice water. The visceral fear of what he could do to me spread inward, making me want to shut down, wrap myself in a fetal position and hide. But as the fear reached the center, it hit that jagged, ruined place where Lev used to live, and anger exploded outwards, pushing the fear back. My hand went to my gun. He hadn’t seen us. For the first time in two years, I had a clear, easy shot. I could kill him, right now. I could avenge Lev. I could stop living in fear.
But this wasn’t just about me, anymore. Colton was in trouble, now, too, and killing Maravic wouldn’t clear his name. We needed evidence. I slowly uncurled my fingers from my gun.
Maravic was showing the men something on a laptop screen but we were too far away to make it out. I saw something that looked like pipes. Maybe Calahan was right? Are they planning to sabotage an oil pipeline? Colton gently patted my shoulder and pointed at something. I looked and my chest went tight. Seven assault rifles were laid out on a table. Why do they need guns?
“I’ve secured the van,” Maravic told them. “It’s outside. Steward’s going to meet with the guy in charge tomorrow at two in DC. If he gets the final go-ahead, he’ll call me with the location of the goods and we’ll go pick them up, then head to the target to prepare. We’ll pick up our friends from New Jersey on the way.”
The beat-up van was part of the plan? That made no sense, why rely on something so old? The plan to crash the dollar would cost billions of dollars so whoever was behind this wasn’t short of money. And what were they going to do? What were the goods? Who were these friends from New Jersey?
I had to get closer. I had to see what was on that screen.
