Naomi was racing through a tangled web of dark alleyways, her pounding footsteps echoing loud in the narrow space between the buildings. She fumbled for the keys as she reached the Nissan, tossed her pack into the back of the vehicle, and slid onto the cold leather of the driver’s seat. The temperature had dropped rapidly after sunset, and she found herself shivering as she started the engine and pulled the jeep out of the secluded alley.
The dinghy bounced over the gentle waves, Ryan wincing at the loud rumble of the 40 hp outboard motor churning up the water behind him. He shut down the motor after a few hundred meters and let the momentum of the boat carry him into shore. Jumping out, he pulled the dinghy up behind him, almost slipping on the wet rocks beneath his feet as he moved up the beach toward the open doors.
Naomi turned off the headlights as she turned the corner and braked to a gentle halt on the street opposite Gray’s building. The road was still clear as she unfolded the map and nervously fingered the radio lying by her side. Hurry up, Ryan.
Kealey passed through the double doors, the Walther up as he moved into the warehouse. Light from the fluorescent bulbs positioned far above erupted over the white-painted brick walls, reaching down to touch and illuminate a shining floor of lacquered oak.
Stephen Gray, seated behind an immense desk in the center of the room, was reclining comfortably in his chair, sipping at a cut-crystal glass of Chivas. He was startled by a shadow moving over the mirrorlike surface of his desk, and looked up as the dark figure entered the room.
He immediately knew that he would not survive the encounter. His buildings had been raided by the authorities many times before, but this was not how the police came, through the back entrance with silenced pistols and shadowed faces. He began to tremble as his right hand inched toward the second drawer of his desk.
He tried to recall if the revolver it held was loaded.
Ryan moved quickly to control the situation. “Stephen Gray,” he said in a low, calm voice. Reason, he thought. Reason with the man. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I have a few questions, if you don’t mind. Stay still and keep your hands on the desk.”
“Fuck you.” Gray’s face was twisted in anger and defiance. He started to get to his feet.
Kealey saw that reason wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He moved fast around the desk before Gray could stand and put his foot hard into the man’s chest.
The chair flipped backward and Gray fell violently to the floor, the air crushed out of his lungs. Gasping for breath, he got to his hands and knees before Kealey’s foot slammed up into his stomach.
Gray felt his ribs crack on the second blow, and tried to curl himself into a protective ball as his vision blurred. Despite the nauseating pain, he could feel the barrel of the pistol being pressed into the base of his skull.
“I want to pull this trigger,” Ryan snarled. “You have one chance to save yourself.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a wrinkled picture, dropping it unceremoniously in front of the businessman’s face. “How do you know this man?”
The silver Mercedes came fast around the corner, screeching to a halt right in front of the Nissan 4x4. The air caught in her lungs as Naomi reached for the radio and furiously punched the Selcall button. She tried to focus on the map, but the heavy driver was already out of the car, holding a bulging sack of takeout in one hand and tapping on her window with the other. The suspicion was plain in his face before she even began to lower the window.
“I swear it’s the truth!”
“I don’t believe you.” Ryan’s finger tightened on the trigger as he pressed the cold metal harder against the man’s head. “That’s the only name he’s ever used with you?”
“I knew his father personally. You can look for yourself. Jesus, look… Look, just let me up. I’m not going anywhere.” Any distraction would do, Gray thought to himself. The gun is loaded, I know it is. If I can just get to it, I might have a chance.
Ryan grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him up roughly. Immediately, Gray moved for the desk. “It’s right here, I have a file on him-”
The fist tightened around the back of Gray’s shirt, pulling him back and away. “Sit down,” Ryan said. He moved to the desk and started opening drawers. Turning to face the other man, he held the Smith amp; Wesson revolver up toward the light. “Is this what you were looking for?”
Opening the cylinder, he spilled the bullets out of the gun, the rounds rattling and rolling away across the polished floor. Casually tossing the revolver onto the desk, he moved forward in a smooth motion and slammed the butt of his own pistol into Gray’s face. The impact reverberated along the length of his arm. As Ryan pulled back to deliver a second blow, the radio tucked into his pocket bumped the corner of the desk, inadvertently pressing the transmit button.
“No, I have absolutely no idea,” Naomi was saying. “I think I made a wrong turn coming out of the Malay Quarter… I’m just trying to get back to the Commodore. Can you point it out to me? I mean, if you don’t mind.”
The doubt had faded slightly from the man’s blunt features. Leaning forward and through the window, he began to trace a line along the map, snapping out directions in heavily accented English. His finger was tracing through the map and along her leg… She held the map tightly in both hands, her arms straining so that she almost ripped the thin paper in half. Her mind was moving at the speed of light. Keep him occupied, Naomi.
She placed her hand on the man’s forearm and gave him her best smile. “I can’t thank you enough. You’re a lifesaver.” She hit the tone perfectly, and watched the grin spread over his face as his eyes scoured her body for the first time…
There was a burst of static from the radio.
The driver saw something change in her face and he pulled back quickly, the lascivious smile fading fast, replaced by a sneer as he dug for the weapon in his jacket.
Naomi’s hand moved down in a blur to the space between the seats, pulling up on Ryan’s Beretta. She got there first. Her mind was blank as she pointed the gun at his chest and fired twice, the shots ringing in her ears as she watched him fall back, shock carved into his face.
She stumbled out of the jeep, the radio forgotten behind her. She was reaching down, searching for the man’s keys, only to realize that they were in the still-running Mercedes. Naomi didn’t notice the lack of blood on the driver’s chest as she pulled the keys out of the car and ran to the front door of the warehouse.
The shots were audible from inside the building. Stephen Gray looked up and smiled in Ryan’s direction, a bloody, awful smile. Something feral slithered into his eyes as he spoke. “You may know his name, but it won’t change anything.”
Ryan stepped back, still aiming the Walther at Gray’s chest. “What are you talking about?”
“The shipment has already landed in Washington. It’s too late to stop him. Do you understand what I’m saying? He’s going after all of them. He already has what he needs.”
Ryan was about to respond when the door burst open. He swung his pistol and then stopped when she moved into view. Naomi ran into the building… All she could see was Ryan.
Gray reacted immediately. With astonishing speed he turned the corner and hit Naomi head-on, the pistol flying out of her hand and across the floor. She was stunned by the blow, struggling to stand when Gray reached past her, his fingertips brushing against the Beretta. Then it was in his hand, and he was turning up and around…
Kealey shot him twice in the chest. Stumbling backward, Gray hit the wall and slumped down against it. He glared up at Ryan, a thin trickle of blood running out of his mouth and down onto the clean white cotton of his shirt. He summoned the last of his strength and lifted the pistol in Naomi’s direction.
Ryan had no choice. Taking two steps forward, he leveled the Walther and fired a third bullet into Stephen Gray’s forehead.
He breathed a soft curse. This was going all wrong… His first priority was to get out of the building. Moving forward, Ryan lifted the Beretta out of the dead man’s hand and slid it into his coat pocket. Naomi was crouched against the wall, staring up at him with horror in her face. Leaning down, he grabbed her arm and yanked her roughly to her feet.
“Where’s the driver?”
“I shot him,” she said in a low monotone. Ryan’s eyes were moving fast around the room. There was a wall full of file cabinets and papers strewn across the man’s desk. He thought about sending Naomi out to the boat while he looked through the papers. He thought about the probable response times for police units heading out of the
