Chapter 8 - The Warehouse Haven
Vance yanked the handbrake. The sedan spun a vicious 180 degrees, tires smoking against the cracked asphalt of the loading bay, before the rear end slammed into a pair of rusted corrugated iron doors. The doors gave way with a deafening screech, and the car tumbled backward into the darkness of an abandoned cold-storage facility.
Darkness swallowed them, broken only by the thin beams of their own shattered headlights pointing toward the cavernous ceiling. Dust and mold filled the air.
“Out! Both of you, out now!” Vance shouted, kicking his door open.
Clara didn't hesitate. She dragged Lily across the seat, tumbling out onto the oily concrete floor. Lily was crying silently, her hands scraped and bleeding, but she didn't freeze. The fear in her small body had turned into pure survival instinct.
Behind them, the Range Rover ground to a halt at the warehouse threshold, its high beams cutting through the gloom like twin searchlights.
Two men stepped out of the vehicle. Neither carried handguns openly; instead, they moved with the calm, practiced confidence of professionals who knew their target was trapped in a dead-end structure. One carried a short crowbar; the other had his right hand buried deep in the pocket of an oilskin coat.
“Detective Inspector Vance,” the first man called out. His voice carried a thick Northern Irish lilt, conversational and smooth. “Step away from the wee girl. This isn't your jurisdiction anymore.”
Vance drew his service Glock from under his armpit, keeping both hands steady, aiming dead center at the man’s chest. “Step back into the vehicle, Declan. Armed response is three minutes out.”
“No, they aren't,” Declan replied, not breaking stride. “Your dispatcher owes my brother fifty grand in card debts. The armed units are currently securing a false alarm at the shopping precinct in Dartford.”
Clara felt the floor tilt beneath her feet. The corruption went all the way through. Arthur hadn't just been gambling with his family’s lives; he had sold them out to an entire network.
“Clara,” Vance whispered without turning his head. “The service stairs behind the chiller unit. Take Lily. Run up to the gantry. There’s an overhead walkway to the rail siding.”
“What about you?” Clara whispered back.
May you like
“I took Arthur’s money seven years ago to look the other way on the cliff,” Vance said, his voice completely dead. “I owe you your life.”
Before Clara could process the confession, Declan’s hand came out of his coat, leveling a suppressed pistol.
