"We'll try going around the right side and see if there are any windows or doors we can gain entry through. I don't like the idea of going in the front door.
"Once inside we'll move as a team. I'll go first and you cover. If we run into someone, I'll do the talking and I want you to stay out of sight. You're my ace in the hole if the shit hits the fan."
He turned and looked into Kate's eyes. "If shooting starts, remember to shoot to kill. If it's only one person, I'll try taking them out with the silenced submachine gun. If you have to fire, then we go for broke. Let people run away but take out anyone who fights. If you see a woman who matches the description of Maria, try to take her alive."
Riley smiled grimly. "I know it isn't much of a plan, but it's the best I can come up with under the circumstances. You ready?" Kate nodded.
Riley followed the trees to the right until they got around the edge of the building. The side of the building stretched to the next corner without a break. Riley continued on around until he could see the fourth side. Another solid blank.
"All right. Let's try the doors where the trailers are."
He retraced his steps. Checking to make sure no one was around, Riley led the way out of the safety of the forest and across the open area up to one of the trailers. Sidling along the vehicle, he came up to the loading dock. He clambered up onto it and then turned and helped Westland up.
Checking the loading doors, he found both of them locked. Shit, Riley thought. "We're going in the front. Be prepared to start shooting."
Westland pulled out her Beretta and chambered a round, slipping off the safety. Riley crept up to the corner of the building, then lay on his stomach and peered around. The door was between the two cars about ten feet away. Riley hoped that it was at least unlocked. He stood up and edged his way around the corner and up to the door. Westland was behind him, keeping an eye on the driveway for any cars that might be coming.
Riley slid his hand over the doorknob and turned it. The knob rotated all the way. Slowly he tugged and the door opened with a creak. As quickly as he could, he slipped inside to the right of the door, submachine gun at the ready. Westland followed him in, moving to the inside left of the door.
They were in what looked like a small waiting room or reception area. The room was unoccupied and a dim bulb was the only illumination. Plywood walls defined the room, but there was no ceiling and the warehouse roof loomed overhead. There was one door straight ahead, another one to the left, and two to the right.
Riley could hear voices echoing from the warehouse. The two doors on the right led to bathrooms, judging from the signs on the doors. He figured, based on the setup, that the door to the left probably led to another office. The door straight ahead had to lead into the main warehouse area. Signaling Westland to cover the door to the warehouse, Riley quickly checked out the left door. The room behind it was empty.
Riley rejoined Westland. Glancing around he spotted a couch. He gestured to Westland, and the two of them picked up the couch to move it to the inner wall. He could stand on it and look over the wall before going in.
They froze as a long, drawn-out scream split the air. Westland looked at Riley; someone wasn't having a good time. They put the couch against the inner wall; Riley stood precariously on the back of it and peered over the wall.
The warehouse had stacks of shipping crates as far as he could see. From his vantage point he couldn't see the source of the screaming. Pathways large enough for small forklifts wove through the stacks at right angles.
There was another scream, followed by whimpering. Riley clambered off the couch and pointed at the door. Westland raised her pistol and nodded. Riley swung the door open and stepped through.
As he entered the warehouse, Riley sensed movement to his right. He dropped to his left knee as he turned to his right, swinging around the muzzle of the MP5. His eyes focused on a man trying to pull a gun out of a shoulder holster. As the stubby muzzle of Riley's sub centered on the target, he smoothly drew back on the trigger.
The sound of the bolt chugging back and forth as the rounds spewed out was startlingly loud to Riley. The guard grunted and slammed back against a crate as Riley stitched a pattern of five rounds from the man's chest up to his head. The expended brass casings tinkled to the floor.
Riley whirled and faced down the pathway between the crates that led to the center of the warehouse. The entire place had gone silent except for the continued sound of someone crying. Westland materialized at Riley's side, took in the sight of the body, and then turned her attention to the pathway.
Riley gestured for Westland to cover him as he started moving forward. He halted as a male voice called out, "Roberto? Roberto?" Riley pressed himself back into the shadows as he heard footsteps coming his way.
Another guard appeared, weapon still in his holster. Riley resisted the temptation to fire. Letting the sub drop on its sling along his side, he drew the knife. He waited until the man was practically upon him and then, in one powerfully smooth movement, stepped out and attacked. One hand buried the knife in the man's throat and then slashed the carotid arteries and windpipe, while the other hand applied opposite pressure against the man's head.
The guard stared at Riley in shock as his hands went to his throat. Blood bubbled over his fingers and his breath wheezed out the new opening. He dropped to his knees and fell over onto his face. Riley put the knife back in its sheath and rotated up his submachine gun. He took a deep breath and continued on his way, Westland trailing him by about fifteen feet.
The light grew stronger and the sobbing louder as they got closer to the center of the room. Reaching the end of the aisle, Riley dropped to his knees and edged forward. He could hear the voices more clearly now, raised in argument. He could make out the voices of at least two men and one woman.
Riley took a quick peek around the corner and then drew back. He examined the image imprinted in his mind. A chair in the middle of an open area. A naked man tied to the chair, his back to Riley. Two men and a woman gathered around the chair with a table next to them, discussing whether someone should go after the man Riley had just killed. One of the men called out. "Pablo!"
Riley turned and pointed, directing Westland to take a position in the shadows on the far side of the aisle. Then he stood up and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He knew he had about twenty-five rounds left in his submachine gun magazine. He quietly released the lock and extended the telescoping stock. He placed the butt deep into his shoulder. Melding his cheek to the steel stock, with his right eye over the weapon, he peered down the barrel.
Riley stepped out from behind the crates. He fired two three-round bursts in the space of half a second. The two men flew backward, fatally hit, while they were still registering his appearance. The woman reached for an automatic rifle on the table.
"Freeze!" Riley screamed in Spanish as he started to move forward, the weapon still tight in against his cheek. The woman ignored him and grabbed the rifle. Riley fired a five-round burst, aiming low. The 9mm steel-jacketed rounds tore into the woman's legs, blowing them out from underneath her.
The crack of a pistol being fired from behind caused Riley to go into a diving spin to his left. As he brought his weapon up to bear he was treated to the sight of Westland firing a second round into the head of a guard who must have circled around the warehouse and come up the same aisle Riley had. Half the guard's face was missing as he slid to the ground. Westland gave Riley a quick nod, indicating all clear.
Riley returned his gaze to the wounded woman. She was reaching for the rifle she had dropped when she'd been shot. Riley jumped to his feet and ran to her, kicking the rifle away. She glared at him from where she lay in a puddle of blood.