Chapter 16 - The North Loading Bay
Hook:
The rusted iron doors of Warehouse 4 groaned in the ocean wind like a dying animal.
Conflict:
The smell of rotting timber, saltwater, and diesel fuel hung thick in the cold air. Rain poured through broken skylights seventy feet above the cracked concrete floor.
I stepped through the pedestrian doorway into the cavernous darkness. In my left hand, I held the Kingston flash drive, held high so the moonlight caught its silver casing. In my right jacket pocket, my hand gripped the handle of Elena’s backup snub-nosed .38 revolver, loaded with five hollow-point rounds.
Discovery:
Fifty yards ahead, beneath a single hanging halogen lamp, Toby was tied to a wooden chair with heavy yellow nylon rope. A piece of silver duct tape was strapped across his mouth. Standing behind him was a tall man in a black tactical jacket, a heavy scar slicing across his throat, holding a suppressed semi-automatic pistol pointed directly at Toby’s temple.
“Stop right there, Mercer,” the scarred man shouted, his voice echoing off the corrugated steel walls. “Put the drive on the oil drum to your left and step back ten paces.”
Twist:
“Where’s Mark?” I shouted back, taking two slow steps forward instead of stopping.
“Your brother is currently being processed by the feds,” the man replied with a cold sneer. “Which means my contract just converted from security to asset liquidation. The drive has offshore banking keys worth eight million dollars. You give me the drive, I take a boat to Mexico, the kid lives. You play hero, he dies first, then you.”
Emotion:
Toby looked at me through the shadows. His eyes were wide with terror, but then he looked down at his right hand.
His fingers were tapping against the wooden leg of the chair.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Long. Long. Short.
He was sending me a message.
Cliffhanger:
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He wasn't tapping for help. He was tapping what Sarah had taught him: *BEHIND YOU.*
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