A third man sitting on a sofa directly in front of them lunged for a handgun on a coffee table.
They fired simultaneously.
Two red holes replaced two red dots, both in roughly the same location, upper right shoulder. Sofa man fell back and cursed in Spanish.
Nathan felt it more than he saw it.
A fourth threat. From above.
Second floor. Far corner of the warehouse. A man stood on a railed walkway, leveling an assault rifle.
Montez? No choice. Fractions of seconds mattered. He painted his laser center mass, and fired.
The man jerked at the same instant his rifle discharged.
The bullets impacted high and right, but the sound was deafening in the enclosed space. Grangeland bent over and protected her eyes as chunks of concrete rained down.
Harv sent a second bullet and scored a hit. The man slumped forward and cartwheeled over the rail. Cranium and metal smacked the concrete at the same time, the sounds indistinguishable.
They moved deeper into the warehouse, scanning for additional threats. None appeared.
That damned noise had to go. Nathan placed the laser on the stereo cabinet against the side wall and fired. The glass imploded and the music died with a static thump. Thirteen rounds left. Harv also had thirteen.
“Grangeland, cover our six. I’m on gold chains,” he said and rushed forward to the squirming man.
He knew Harv would advance to sofa man’s position because door man was either unconscious or dead. In less than ten seconds, they’d overpowered and neutralized four hardened mercenaries.
He pointed his Sig at gold chains’ head and said, “On your belly.”
“You jus’ shot me,” the man wailed. “You fuckin’ shot me, man!”
“I’m impressed with your powers of observation. Get on your belly now or I’ll finish the job.”
Cursing, gold chains rolled over.
That’s when he noticed the bandaged finger stump. Well, well, well, if it isn’t the merc who escaped from Clairemont. What was his name? Julio-something-Ramirez… Domingo. Julio Domingo Ramirez. These were definitely Montez’s men.
Nathan kept his head up, put a knee on Julio’s back, and leaned on it. The wounded man grunted and cursed again.
He looked over and saw Harv clock his mark. Hard. Sofa man’s arms went limp and his head lolled back.
“Grangeland, secure that downed man. We haven’t cleared our perimeter or those offices on the far side yet. Stay sharp.”
She handcuffed door man’s hands behind his back.
“Grangeland, I need you over here. Keep your head up. I thought I heard something near the offices.”
Gun up and hunched over, she advanced to his position and knelt.
“Duct tape. My belly pack.”
She removed the roll and taped Julio’s wrists.
“Get his ankles too.”
There it was again. A muffled whimper.
“I heard it,” Grangeland said. “It could be the kidnapped woman.”
He motioned toward the sofa. “Secure Harv’s man.”
The sound got louder, emanating from the dark corner of the room where balcony man had fallen.
Harv kept sweeping the warehouse with his gun as Grangeland yanked sofa man forward and taped his wrists. He moaned, but didn’t resist. She also taped his ankles.
Nathan spoke quietly. “Harv, this is our fingerless friend from the attack in Clairemont.”
Harv looked at the bandaged stump. “Maybe we’ll give him a matched set.”
Julio became defiant, squirming like a worm on hot asphalt. “I need a fuckin’ doctor, man!”
Nathan locked eyes, toggled his laser, and painted it on the man’s nose.
Julio’s eyes crossed on the red dot. “Okay. Okay, be cool, man.”
He grabbed Julio’s shirt and hauled him over to the sofa. He did the same for door man, but also checked for a carotid pulse. Faint, but present.
The center of the warehouse had been converted into a living room of sorts. On three sides, black leather couches surrounded a coffee table hosting sofa man’s gun, several electronic remotes, and two cell phones. A small LCD TV sat atop an end table with a muted pornographic movie playing. He grabbed the TV remote and turned it off. Overhead, every fourth fluorescent fixture offered dull illumination. Most of the interior remained in deep shadow.
Julio couldn’t, or wouldn’t, stay quiet. “I’m bleeding bad here!”
Without warning, Nathan swung his pistol. The suppressor caught Julio’s left brow.
A red bead crept down the side of Julio’s head and found his ear. He laid all three captives out like cordwood and taped all their mouths except door man’s. With a destroyed nasal cavity, he’d suffocate with his mouth covered. Next, he taped all their feet together into one bundle.
“Grangeland, you’ve got them. We’re going to clear the warehouse. Your threat area is from here to the front door.”
“Copy.”
“Harv, on my six.”
They moved back to the front door and began traversing the perimeter wall. Several dozen pallets of boxes were stacked three high along the wall, too tightly placed for anyone to hide among. A battery powered forklift occupied the southwest corner, currently plugged in for a recharge. The offices were straight ahead in the southeast corner and occupied an area roughly ten feet wide by forty feet long. All the windows were dark, except upstairs. A narrow staircase served the second floor.
Nathan kept his laser painted on balcony man’s prone form as they approached, but he detected no movement. Unconscious or dead.
They both heard it again, a horrible mewling sound.
“That could be Montez. Cover me.”
Harv hugged the wall and kept his gun pointed at the office windows.
He kept his Sig trained at the dark figure as he approached and knelt down. No pulse. Not surprising, his white tank top wasn’t white any more. He looked at Harv and shook his head. Not Montez. They traversed to the corner of the offices.
In a whisper, he said, “I’ll duck under these windows and come up on the other side of the door.”
“Should we try a verbal command first?” Harv asked.
“Couldn’t hurt at this point.”
He spoke forcefully. “If anyone’s in there, come out now!” Nothing. He repeated the command in Spanish. No response.
“I’ll take the left.” Nathan ducked below the window and positioned himself in front of the door. He reared back and kicked. The door flew open and banged against the interior wall.
Harv followed him in and swept the right side, his red laser visible in the dust. “Clear.”
“Light switch?” Nathan asked.
The room snapped to life with fluorescent light, revealing an old metal desk, some filing cabinets, and several rows of stacked boxes. An interior door led to an adjoining office on their left. They both held perfectly still and listened for any movement on the other side of the door. Nothing. But the muffled cries they’d heard earlier were louder.
He kicked the door and rushed into the adjoining office.
Chapter 29
What Nathan saw tore at his heart.
Nichole Dalton. Naked and strapped to a metal table. Feet bound in stirrups. Torso crisscrossed by lacerations similar to his own, but not as numerous or deep. A cloth gag secured her mouth. Her lips were cracked and bleeding. The surface of the table was smeared with her blood, but not enough to run down its legs. Thankfully, she didn’t appear to have been raped. Her genital area looked unharmed and he felt a pang of guilt for looking. A smaller table on wheels held the instruments of her torment. Mounted on a tripod, a compact video camera eyed the table. Sitting atop a low file cabinet, a laptop computer connected to the camera.
Damn it.
He checked the camera. Not active. “Grangeland, I need you.” He sensed Harv’s presence behind him as he removed the woman’s gag.
“My daughters. He took them!”
r /> “We’ll find them, I promise. You’re safe now,” Nathan said.
“Who are you?”
“Let’s get you off that table.” Tears began as he freed her from the stirrups. Her legs quit when she tried to stand. He caught her before she fell and she buried her face into his shoulder. Nathan knew her knife wounds stung, but the adrenaline rush of being rescued overpowered her pain.
Grangeland stepped into the office and froze. He made eye contact. “Grab a chair from the other office.” She didn’t move. “Grangeland, a chair.”
She returned a few seconds later and placed it next to the metal table, then put an arm around the woman and helped her into it.
Nathan shucked his ballistic vest and removed his sweatshirt.
Grangeland helped Dalton put the sweatshirt on. It fit like a tent, but offered her some dignity. She whispered a hoarse thank you. Her eyes dropped to the diamond pattern on his chest and widened in recognition.
“That’s right,” he said. “You’re Nichole Dalton. You were kidnapped from the Fashion Valley Mall a few days ago. Harv, stay with Ms. Dalton. Grangeland, a word please.” Outside the office, he lowered his voice. “Get her something to drink. I saw a small fridge near the stereo cabinet. Try to keep her as calm as possible. Reassure her we’re going to find her daughters, but be vague if asks you anything about us, or how we found her.”
They reentered the office. “Sit tight, Ms. Dalton. This will all be over in a few minutes. Harv, follow my lead. Let’s go talk to our beloved guests.”
They returned to the gagged and bound men while Grangeland raided the refrigerator. She eyed the mercenaries with contempt as she hurried back to Nichole Dalton.
Julio and sofa man were conscious and looked quite concerned. When they focused on Nathan’s bare chest, their eyes widened even more.
Without saying a word, Nathan unbuckled Julio’s belt and yanked his blue jeans and boxer shorts down to his taped ankles. He pulled his Predator knife, examined its shiny surface, and smiled. Julio began flopping around in a terrified frenzy. His hip wound began oozing blood faster.
“Easy, partner,” Harv said to him, playing good cop.
“You saw what they did to my sister,” Nathan growled. “I’m gonna cut this asshole’s cojones off, cook them in the microwave, and stuff ’em down his throat. Better yet, he can eat ’em raw.”
Julio tried to scream, but the tape covering his mouth muted it. He frantically shook his head.
“What’s that?” Nathan asked. “I can’t understand you.” Of course he couldn’t, the man’s mouth was taped. “Hold him down. We’ll need something to cauterize his nut sack. Is your cigar torch filled with butane?”
“Indeed it is.”
Harv stepped behind Julio and grabbed his shoulders.
Nathan smiled at Julio. “You ready, amigo?” He lowered the knife out of Julio’s line of sight.
Nathan backed away just in time as Julio’s bladder quit. Yellow liquid arced through the air and found his bound partners.
“That’s disgusting,” Harv said.
Nathan sheathed his knife, walked over to the north wall, and removed the five gallon water bottle from the cooler. He poured the water on them, making sure to douse their faces. He winked at Harv and maneuvered behind Julio. Nathan tipped the bottle above Julio’s head, creating a crude but effective bit of waterboarding. Julio coughed and sputtered and whipped his head back and forth. After thirty seconds or so, Nathan stopped and tossed the bottle aside. He pulled his knife.
“Are you ready to become a woman?”
Julio lost control and began bawling like a child. A pathetic sight. Nathan had broken him in under a minute.
“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” he asked.
Julio desperately nodded.
Nathan bent over and ripped the tape free.
“We didn’t touch her. I swear, man!”
“That’s not what it looks like to me.”
“We didn’t. I swear! Ask her.”
“Where’s Montez?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is he coming back?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know much, do you?”
“I don’t, man, I swear.”
“Then you’re worthless to me.” He put his knife to Julio’s throat.
“Wait! There’s a safe house.”
“Where?”
“In San Diego.”
“San Diego’s a big place.”
“I’ve been there, I know where it is.”
“If you’re lying, dinner is standing by. I hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m not.”
“Hungry or lying?”
“Lying.”
“Who else has been to the safe house besides you?”
“Hector.”
“Which one is Hector?”
“You shot him. He was upstairs.”
He re-taped Julio’s mouth and returned to the offices. He motioned with his head for Grangeland to follow.
When they were out of earshot she said, “Nathan, that woman needs emergency care. She’s probably in shock.”
“At the risk of sounding callous, she’s not in any immediate danger.”
“Not in any immediate danger?”
Harv stepped forward. “Easy, Grangeland. We’re not trying to be insensitive, but Nate’s right. She looks bad, but her wounds aren’t life threatening.”
Her expression softened. “I’m sorry, Nathan. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“I’m just really pissed off right now.”
“It’s okay. I am too.”
“They haven’t given her anything to eat or drink for two days. Those fucking assholes.”
He couldn’t recall ever hearing her curse before. She did it well. “Don’t worry. Those fucking assholes are going to wish they were never born soon enough. Look, I know it’s a crappy deal, but she needs to be debriefed. We can’t take her to a hospital. Her wounds can’t be explained as anything other than intentional. The police will get involved. She may have vital information on Montez’s operation or his whereabouts. We’ll formulate our next moves based on what we learn from her and those mutts out there.”
“She’s worried sick about her daughters.”
“That’s where you come in. Find the bathroom and clean her up as best you can. Do you have a travel bag in the sedan?”
“My clothes should fit her okay.”
“Harv, give Grangeland your keys.” He turned toward her. “There’s an overnight bag in Harv’s trunk with a shirt for me. There’s also a green trauma bag. You know how to administer O-two?”
“It’s been awhile, but yes.”
“When you get back, wrap her torso up with gauze.”
Grangeland looked toward the woman for a moment, then left the warehouse.
Nathan pointed toward the bound men. “I’m turning them over to Cantrell. It won’t break my heart seeing them under the CIA’s special care for a spell. But before we turn them over, we need the ringleader to make contact with Montez. We need to make sure the guy who usually contacts Montez makes the call. It might raise suspicion otherwise.”
“Do we know which one it is?”
“We will soon enough.”
“Let’s hope he’s not the stiff with the machine gun,” Harv said.
“Cantrell?”
“I think it’s fair to assume she didn’t know about this warehouse or we would’ve been intercepted. This gives the CIA more than they had an hour ago. A lot more.”
“Let’s use this time to update Holly,” he said.
She answered after the first ring.
“We’re okay,” Nathan said quickly. It took about two minutes to update her and answer some questions.
“What’s your next move?” she asked.
“We’re heading down to San Diego. With a little luck this will be over in the next few hours.”
&nbs
p; “Be careful. Call me again?”
“Will do.”
Grangeland returned with the bags. Harv walked over and locked the front door behind her.
“Make Ms. Dalton as comfortable as possible,” Nathan said. “Don’t ask any questions until I’m present. If she offers anything, write it down. We’ll give you a few minutes. We’re in a time sensitive situation.”
She picked up the trauma bag.
“Hang on.” He unzipped the bag and grabbed a handful of sterile pads and a roll of two-inch micro-pore tape. “Okay, you’re good to go.”
She hesitated. “She’s pretty freaked and wants to get outta here.”
“It could be an act. She could be a spook, a trained operations officer.”
“With two young daughters?”
“I’ll admit it’s unlikely, but we can’t rule it out yet.”
“Nate,” Harv said, “if she’s a spook, she won’t tell us anything.”
“Let me try,” Grangeland offered.
“She’ll be a lot more comfortable with Grangeland present,” Harv said. “But if she is a spook, it won’t make any difference.”
Nathan looked at Grangeland. “Okay, but don’t ask her any questions until we’re present. Bandage her torso, get her on O-two, and take her blood pressure. You know the routine. Let her know you’re going to take care of her and that we’re going to find her daughters.” He nodded toward the office. “We’ll be right there.”
She looked like she wanted to object, but didn’t.
Nathan dug through Harv’s overnight bag, found a T-shirt, and pulled it on. “We need to control our guests’ bleeding with pressure bandages.”
“Wouldn’t break my heart to watch them bleed out.”
“Me either, but we need pee-pee boy alive. He’s been to the safe house.”
“Pee-pee boy?”
He shrugged.
Harv squinted in thought.
“What?”
“Why San Diego?”
“I don’t follow.”
“The safe house. Why San Diego and not Chicago or Baltimore, or any other city?”
“That’s a good question.”
“There’s got to be a reason.”
“No doubt there is.” He pointed toward the mercenaries. “They might know.”