Chapter Twelve #3
“Entry team deploying,” Saint’s voice reported through the comms. “Perimeter team in position.”
Nova’s hand found mine in the darkness of the van, her fingers cold despite the warm night. I squeezed gently, offering what reassurance I could. We’d come too far to turn back now.
“Electronic security disabled,” Wire announced from his position in the back of our van. “Cameras on loop. You’re clear.”
Five tense minutes passed as we listened to the teams securing the building. My medical bag sat between my feet, ready if needed. I’d patched up enough wounded brothers to know that even the best-planned operations could go sideways in seconds.
“Building secure,” Tank finally reported. “No personnel on site. Doc, Nova, you’re clear to approach. Loading dock, east side.”
I started the van, driving slowly around the perimeter until we reached the indicated entrance.
Two Prospects stood guard, their cuts covered by dark jackets to avoid identification if anything went wrong.
They nodded as we approached, one opening the van door while the other scanned the darkness behind us.
“Stay close,” I told Nova as we exited the vehicle. “Follow my lead.”
She nodded, adjusting her vest one last time before falling in behind me.
The warehouse interior was cavernous, stacks of shipping containers and metal shelving units creating a maze of shadows and hidden corners.
Tank met us at the entrance, his injured arm still in a sling but his good hand resting on the weapon holstered at his hip.
“Found what looks like an office in the back,” he said, voice low. “Electronic lock. Fancy shit for a document storage facility.”
I nodded, sensing Nova’s tension beside me. “Lead the way.”
We moved through the warehouse silently, our footsteps barely audible on the concrete floor.
The two Prospects followed, providing rear security as Tank guided us deeper into the labyrinth of containers.
I kept Nova between Tank and myself, my senses hyperalert to any sound that might indicate we weren’t alone.
The office appeared around a corner -- a modern glass enclosure that stood in stark contrast to the industrial surroundings. A keypad lock secured the door, with what looked like a retinal scanner mounted beside it.
“Serious security. What the hell are they keeping in there?” Tank’s brow furrowed.
Nova stepped forward, examining the lock without touching it. “RFID reader with a keypad backup.” She reached into her pocket for a device Wire had given her. “Should be able to clone the signal if I can get the right frequency.”
I positioned myself where I could watch both Nova and our surroundings, my hand resting on my sidearm.
Tank moved to cover the approach from the direction we’d come, leaving the prospects to watch the other angles.
Nova worked in silence, her face a mask of concentration as she manipulated the device against the reader.
After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, a soft click signaled success. The door unlocked with a pneumatic hiss. Nova looked up at me, triumph flashing briefly in her eyes before professional focus returned.
“Let me go first.” I drew my weapon. She nodded, stepping back to allow me entry.
The office was smaller than it had appeared from outside, most of the space taken up by filing cabinets and a large desk with multiple monitors.
I swept the room quickly, confirming it was empty before signaling Nova to enter.
Tank remained at the door, dividing his attention between us and the warehouse beyond.
“Jackpot,” Nova whispered, already moving toward the filing cabinets. She opened the drawer and ran her fingers along the labels, stopping abruptly. “Mom’s investigation code names. These are her files.”
She showed me the neatly organized folders with names I recognized from her mother’s notebook. But what caught my attention was a door behind the desk -- heavy steel, with another electronic lock.
“Nova.” I nodded toward it. “There’s more.”
She joined me, already pulling out Wire’s device again. This lock was simpler than the office door, yielding to Nova’s electronic skeleton key in seconds. The door swung open to reveal a hidden room beyond -- not large but filled with exactly what we’d been hoping to find.
Financial ledgers lined one wall. A server rack hummed in the corner. Hard drives and backup discs filled a cabinet beside a sophisticated computer setup. And spread across a central table, a case file labeled in handwriting I recognized from Nova’s mother’s notebook: “Operation Cleansweep.”
“Oh my God.” Nova moved to the table. “This is Mom’s handwriting. This is her investigation file -- the one that went missing after she died.”
I watched as she opened the file with careful fingers, as if it might dissolve at her touch.
Inside were photographs, financial documents, witness statements -- the complete investigation Mary-Jane Treemont had been building before her murder.
Nova’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away quickly, professional focus reasserting itself.
“We need to document everything.” She pulled out her phone. “Photograph every page, download whatever’s on that server.”
I nodded, already moving to the computer system. “I’ll start the download. You photograph the physical evidence.”
We worked quickly and methodically, knowing time ran against us. Nova snapped photos with professional precision, checking each image for clarity before moving to the next document. I hooked Wire’s specialized drive to the server and initiated a mass download of whatever digital evidence it held.
Halfway through our task, Tank’s voice came low and urgent from the doorway. “Movement outside. Security patrol.”
I tensed, hand moving automatically to my weapon. “How many?”
“Two vehicles. Armed.” Tank’s voice was tight with controlled tension. “They’re not supposed to be here.”
Nova looked up from the documents. “We need more time. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen to finish.”
Tank grunted. “I’ll buy you what I can.”
He disappeared from the doorway, leaving one Prospect to guard our position while the other followed Tank. I returned to the download, watching the progress bar creep across the screen with agonizing slowness.
Nova continued photographing documents, her movements growing more urgent. “Doc, look at this.”
I joined her at the table, looking down at what appeared to be a DVD in a plain sleeve. The handwritten label read simply: “Treemont Cleanup.”
“There’s a player in the computer. Thankfully, it’s an older system.” I moved to insert the disc.
The screen flickered, then showed what appeared to be Judge Harmon’s chambers. The timestamp in the corner showed a date three days after Nova’s parents’ deaths. Harmon sat behind his desk, Wallace standing beside him. The audio was poor but clear enough to hear every damning word.
“The Treemont situation is contained,” Wallace was saying, his face relaxed in a way that made my blood run cold. “Accident report is finalized. No further investigation.”
Harmon nodded, looking relieved. “And the evidence she claimed to have?”
“Never found in the vehicle. We confiscated what we could from their home. If anything else exists, it died with her.”
The two men continued discussing the “cleanup,” mentioning Mary-Jane’s source in the department who’d gone suddenly quiet, the reporter’s notes that had disappeared, the story that would never see publication.
They spoke about Nova’s parents’ deaths with the casual indifference of men discussing a minor inconvenience successfully resolved.
Nova’s face had gone completely white, her body rigid as she watched her parents’ murderers congratulate themselves. I reached for her hand, finding it ice-cold and trembling slightly. But her eyes remained dry, fixed on the screen with a focus so intense it seemed to physically radiate from her.
“We’ve got them,” she whispered. “We actually have them.”
The sound of gunfire erupted from outside, sudden and jarring. The Prospect at the door tensed, hand going to his earpiece.
“Company’s coming,” Tank’s voice crackled through our comms. “Get what you need and get out. Now.”
I ejected the DVD, handing it to Nova who secured it in an evidence bag with shaking hands. The download completed with a soft chime, and I yanked the drive free, shoving it into my pocket.
“We need to move.” I gathered the most crucial physical evidence into a waterproof bag.
Nova nodded, her gaze meeting mine with a look of fierce vindication.
In that moment, surrounded by evidence of corruption and the sounds of approaching danger, we shared something -- a promise, an understanding deeper than words could express.
We’d found what we came for. Justice for her parents was finally within reach.
More gunshots echoed through the warehouse, closer now. I took Nova’s arm, guiding her toward the door, my body automatically positioning itself between her and potential danger. The Prospect led the way, weapon drawn as we prepared to fight our way out if necessary.
“Stay behind me,” I ordered as we moved back into the maze of shipping containers. “Whatever happens, this evidence has to make it out.”
Nova clutched the waterproof bag to her chest, her mother’s vindication and her own salvation contained in those pages and files. “It will. We’ve come too far to fail now.”
As we moved through the shadows toward the exit, the sound of combat growing louder with each step, I realized how true that was.
We had come too far -- not just in this investigation, but in our journey together.
Whatever waited for us outside, whatever battles still lay ahead, we would face them side by side.
For Daniel and Mary-Jane. For the victims of the trafficking ring. For Nova.
And maybe, just a little, for ourselves.