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But most of all…
I hate.
Fucking.
Waiting.
Pavel limps his way over to us, leading a group of men who are all armed and ready to storm the depot and end this once and for all. He’s by no means in physical shape to lead the charge, but no amount of negotiating could make him stay at home while Clara’s in danger.
“Recon just reported seeing both Clara and Martin leave the main office,” Pavel quietly confirms. He leans heavily against the front of the Hummer and pulls out his phone. A few taps later, a map of the grounds lights up his screen and he moves it around to show us the maze of shipping containers and walkways. “This is what we’ve been able to grab from surveillance and zoning records. Mako’s team overlaid the current bins on the city’s map of the site so we should be able to get a clear idea of how to navigate this shit.”
I swallow back the bile threatening to creep up my throat. There are hundreds of shipping containers in this depot. Thousands, maybe.
Raizo could hide her literally anywhere.
“They were last seen being escorted into one of the shipping containers here,” he continues as he zooms in on an eastern section of the grounds. “Left alone, too.”
“Then that’s where we go.” I pull out my gun from the holster to check the ammunition. Backup magazines are latched to my belt; I’m tempted to add a few grenades just for the hell of it.
But Pavel stops me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “We have to be careful.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not gonna blow Clara up?—”
“There’s more.” His face is grim. “More women. Same quadrant. Looks like he’s loading them up for export.”
Tolya growls beside me. “If we’re going in full force,” he snarls, “we’re leaving with as many of those women as we can.”
I nod. “My thoughts exactly.” I turn to Pavel. “Spread the word. Exercise caution in the eastern quadrant, and have a team go infor the extraction. Keep our eyes above updating us. Wherever we don’t find slaves, blow shit up. No survivors.”
The one survivor I took from the last raid is still rethinking his life choices in the basement of one of my safehouses. He has no idea how lucky he is to be so young and so naive.
We move like ghosts in the night toward the front gates of the depot. The rest of my men sweep the perimeter and position for a simultaneous attack on all sides. I don’t have as many as I’d like for such a broad territory to cover, but it’ll have to do.
I attach a silencer to my handgun and tiptoe around one of the watchtowers for better aim. One shot takes out the first guard; another nails the second. Tolya silently moves to the opposite side of the main gate and does the same to the guards in that watchtower, then climbs up the ladder to find the switch that will open the doors for us.
I wait. The silence feels heavy.
A short alarm sounds once and the gates begin to split. I shoulder through the gap first and take out the initial response team—well, as many as I can spot. Pavel covers my six and downs the ones I miss.
I signal for half the team behind me to take a hard left and sweep the western quadrant here. Pavel and I wait for Tolya to rejoin us, then lead the remaining half of the team toward the eastern quadrant.
Recon was right—there’s definitely something going on over here. Clusters of Yakuza men meet us with angry shouts and even angrier bullets. Tolya ducks behind a stack of storage boxes while I dive under the cover of one of their cars.
“We need backup!” Pavel shouts over the blazing guns. He reloads his handgun, then snarls a curse and holsters it, grabbing for his automatic instead.
“It’ll blow our cover!” I shake my head at him. I know what he wants to do—the exterior contingency is waiting for our signal to swoop in. But if they do it now, and just on this side of the depot, it will give away the fact that we have this place surrounded.
We need—Ineed—to make sure Clara and the other women are out of here long before we wipe Raizo out for good.
Tolya stares at me expectantly, like I’m supposed to pull some magical solution out of my ass and get us out of here.
But I can’t get a good look at the encroaching numbers without risking losing an eye. Or my life. Bullets fly overhead and a few more puncture the sides of the car we’re ducked behind.
I return Tolya’s stare. He holds up a finger, then shimmies, shuffles, reaches behind him, and pulls out something. It takes me a moment to see what it is.
A grenade.
I shake my head.
