Chapter 12 - The Iron Sparrow
Julian supported Sarah’s weight, half-carrying, half-dragging her across the maze of rusted boxcars that choked the abandoned rail yard. The rain had settled into a fine, freezing drizzle that coated everything in an oily sheen. Every shadow looked like a gunman; every groan of the wind through the metal cars sounded like a cocking slide.
Warehouse Seven sat at the far end of the yard, its corrugated iron sides streaked with red rust and graffiti. A single, dim incandescent bulb hung above a narrow steel door marked with a stenciled black bird—a sparrow in flight.
Julian pounded his fist against the reinforced door. ""Frank! Open up! Frank!""
Nothing moved inside. Julian pounded again, harder, until the skin on his knuckles split against the iron rivet heads. ""Frank, open the damn door! The sparrow has returned to the nest!""
A mechanical click echoed through the steel. A sliding observation slit snapped open at eye level, revealing a pair of bloodshot, suspicious eyes behind thick spectacles. The eyes darted from Julian’s soaking wet, bruised face down to Sarah’s pale, blood-soaked coat.
The heavy door swung inward. A burly man in his early sixties with grease-stained overalls and a shotgun tucked under his arm reached out, grabbing Sarah by the belt and hauling her inside with astonishing speed. Julian tumbled in after them, and Frank slammed the heavy door shut, throwing three deadbolts into place.
""You're late by twenty-seven years, kid,"" Frank grunted, laying Sarah down on a workbench covered with canvas tarps. He immediately went to a metal cabinet, pulling out gauze, antiseptic, and a clean suture kit with practiced familiarity. ""Who shot her?""
""Richard Sterling,"" Julian panted, slumping against a lathe.
Frank paused, his calloused hands hovering over the medical supplies. He looked up at Julian, taking in his features under the fluorescent shop lights. ""So you're the baby. Thomas’s boy.""
""I have the tape, Frank,"" Julian said, pulling the soaked cassette from his jacket. ""And the original ledgers. Sarah said you could help us.""
""Help you do what? Start a war?"" Frank asked, his voice gravelly as he began cutting away Sarah’s blood-soaked coat with heavy shears. ""Richard Sterling isn't just a businessman, Julian. He’s the chairman of the port authority and the chief donor to the state governor's reelection campaign. You take that tape to the local cops, and you'll end up floating face down in the harbor before you finish signing your statement.""
""I don't want local cops,"" Julian said, his eyes narrowing into cold, diamond-hard focus. ""I want the Federal Bureau of Investigation. And I want to get to my wife and child before Richard’s men find them in Oakhaven.""
Frank pulled a heavy VHF radio unit from beneath the counter, spinning the dials. ""Then you better move fast. Because thirty seconds ago, the state police scanner broadcasted an Amber Alert.""
May you like
Julian froze. ""An Amber Alert for who?""
Frank looked up from the radio, his eyes filled with grim sorrow. ""For Lily Sterling. Richard called it in himself. He told the media his daughter-in-law Eleanor went mad, murdered him in his home, and fled with the child toward the Canadian border.""
