Chapter 11 - The Unit 44
GateI slammed the Ram into park, grabbed the heavy four-pound steel pipe wrench from under my passenger seat, and kicked my door open into the pouring rain.
The black SUV that had chased me down the highway didn't follow me into the gravel lot; it pulled up across the access road, blocking the exit, its headlights idling on high.
I ran through the ankle-deep puddles toward the Caravan.
The person in the yellow raincoat wasn't Mrs. Harris.
It was a man, his face turned sideways in the mud, gasping for air. A heavy zip-tie bound his wrists behind his back.
I rolled him over with my boot, raising the pipe wrench.
"Don't swing," the man coughed, spitting red water onto his collar.
It was Dave. My dispatcher from Apex.
"Dave? What the hell are you doing here?" I yelled over the drum of rain on the metal roofs. "Where is Emily?"
"Inside... the cold room," Dave choked out, his eyes wide with terror. "They brought her inside. Mark, she wasn't alone. She's got Sarah in there."
"Who has Sarah?"
"The old lady," Dave stammered, his teeth chattering uncontrollably from shock. "She's not a neighbor, Mark. She runs the whole distribution ring. Luke faked his death using her network. Sarah found out Jason was laundering the money through Apex accounts, and when she tried to take the evidence to the feds, Harris locked them down."
"Why Emily?"
"The hard drive," Dave gasped. "The key to decrypting the ledgers... Sarah encrypted it using Emily's biometric voiceprint. Only the kid can unlock it. That's why they kept her alive."
From inside the massive corrugated building of Unit 44, the deep, mechanical rumble of an industrial ammonia refrigeration compressor roared to life.
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The exhaust vent above the steel bay doors began venting thick, white, sub-zero vapor into the rainy night.
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