“Harv, stand by. Grangeland’s almost in place. Grangeland, I’m hitting record… now. You’re on.” He peered over the parapet as Grangeland did her thing. She rocked back and forth, swiveling her hips and running her hands across her chest. She leaned forward and blew a kiss toward the door.
“Grangeland, for cryin’ out loud. They’re going to blow their-” He stopped himself. He just couldn’t say it.
She eased off a little. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m going to keep recording for another two minutes or so. You’re doing fine.” He couldn’t watch the rest-couldn’t afford this mental distraction right now.
A few minutes later he said, “Okay, Grangeland, we’re good.” He ejected the disk so it would start from the beginning when reinserted. He unplugged the feed from the first DVD and plugged it into the second DVD. Next, he disconnected the live camera feed, inserted the Grangeland disk into the second DVD, and pressed play. If anyone looked at the camera’s monitor, they’d see Grangeland’s prerecorded action, not the real action outside the door. Since there was no peephole, they wouldn’t be able to differentiate the real scene from the prerecorded scene.
“Harv, we’re on. Grangeland, suit back up.”
She sprinted to the corner of the warehouse.
He secured the grappling hook to the parapet and descended the rope. Once on the ground, he coiled the rope and threw it over the top. If anyone drove by, he didn’t want them seeing it.
Ninety seconds later, Grangeland and Harv were at the front door ready to go.
A thumping music beat emanated from inside-probably rap.
He looked at Harv and they pulled suppressed Sigs from their belly packs. Nathan wasn’t worried about the 9-millimeter subsonic rounds being powerful enough. They’d used them many times and never had a problem. Body armor protected against center-mass shots, but he didn’t expect his adversaries would be wearing any, especially inside the warehouse. Besides, he and Harv were quite capable of making head shots if needed.
“Lasers on. Harv, you take the right. Grangeland, you’ve got the left. I’ll take the middle of the room. We need prisoners. Grangeland, your weapon isn’t suppressed, so hold your fire unless absolutely necessary.”
He pressed the doorbell button.
It produced a muffled ring like an oversized egg timer.
On the left side of the door, he flattened himself against the wall.
Harv tucked in tight behind him.
The location of the doorknob and the exterior jamb indicated the door would swing inward, toward the right. If anyone cracked the door, he and Harv were on the concealed side. The door would have to be opened at least twelve inches for anyone to peer out and look in their direction. By then it would be too late.
The Spanish accent from the tiny speaker next to the door sounded metallic and slightly amused. “What you want?”
“I got stood up down the street. Let’s party.”
“Go away.”
“Come on, man, it’s cold out here. I need the money. Hundred bucks for all night.”
A pause. “What do we get?”
“Everything.”
“All of us?”
“How many?”
“Four.”
“Make it two hundred and you got a deal.”
Another pause. They were probably discussing it.
A few seconds later, he heard the dead bolt click.
Then a scraping, metallic sound of something else sliding.
The door swung inward.
Chapter 28
The staccato thumping of rap music poured out the door and slammed every building in the alley. Nathan slid past Grangeland and kicked the door.
The man on the other side flew backward as its metal surface hammered his face. The handgun he’d been holding clattered away.
Nathan rushed inside with Harv and Grangeland on his six. He sensed Harv boot the door and heard it slam closed.
Blood gushing from his destroyed nose, the man tried to get up.
Nathan pistol-whipped him, the impact loud and wet. Door man went limp and collapsed to the concrete floor. It wasn’t Montez.
He caught movement on his right.
Another man.
Running. Right to left. Without a shirt. Short. Muscular. Heavy gold chains flopped as he sprinted across the room. Also not Montez.
“I’ve got him,” Harv said.
Nathan watched a red dot form on the running man’s hip.
Harv’s Sig spit flame.
Gold chains tumbled. The wounded man howled and clasped a hand on his left hip.
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.