Chapter 8 #2
Riven placed them on her lap, gently peeling the delicate paper apart as McGuire snapped an endless stream of photos with his cell. Ink ran in wavy lines toward the edges of the pages, some of the words smeared into nothingness. Hints of smoke lifted off the surface, fuel stained across the bottom.
Riven traced the lines, flipping through the first couple. “I’ve got shipping grids with notations on the side along with Langley’s name and a senator Morrison.”
Patch coughed. “As in Ralph Morrison? The same asshole who lobbied for most of the missions run through Task Force Sentinel?”
“I guess. I’m not familiar with him, but I knew Herrera had a political connection. Makes sense the guy’s working both sides.”
“Is it enough to bury the bastards?”
Riven sighed. “It might convince the feds to launch a Rico case, but that’s it.”
She moved on to the next couple, whistled.
“Looks like Martillo pre-filled Herrera’s side for the next rollout before he stashed it earlier tonight.
We’ve got a shipment of agricultural supplies, which is Herrera’s codeword for high-yield explosives, rolling out in five days.
” She looked at McGuire. “If they think this entire ledger was burned…”
He grinned. “They’ll likely keep the scheduled run.”
“Which is another reason Keane’s here. Once Herrera’s men unload the shipment from their transport vessel into one of Martillo’s warehouses, Keane will have it repacked into armored containers, likely with falsified DOT placards and fake bottoms — put just enough fertilizer on top to fool any cursory inspection.
If we can verify the explosives are there, grab a copy of the manifests, and mark the boxes for tracking, we can have Savvy call in one of her secure teams.” She smiled.
“Who knows, with all the chaos, we might even draw Langley here. All we need to know is which warehouse they’re using and… ”
“We can burn them all.” McGuire palmed his personal cell, hit the button. “Hey, sis.”
Savvy breathed into the other side. “What part of ‘nice and quiet’ didn’t you understand? I’ve got the New Orleans’ fire department on scene, cops swarming the area, and helicopters broadcasting live aerial feed.” She huffed. “At least tell me you got the ledger.”
He sighed. “Some of it.”
Savvy groaned. “I’m not sure I even want to know what that means.”
“It means Keane showed up, and everything went sideways. But we’ve got their next shipment. It’ll be rolling into one of Martillo’s warehouse in five days.”
“Interesting. Let me check a few things…” Her end went quiet for a moment, just the hum of their tires on the asphalt as Cross closed in on the bridge.
“Unfortunately, all six of his warehouses have had regular movement. We’ll likely not know which one’s the exchange site until they arrive.
That won’t leave you much time to adapt. ”
“Then, it’s a good thing we’re well-practiced.”
She snorted. “Looks like you just bought yourselves a ticking clock. You need to get off-grid and stay dark. And I mean, stay dark. No contact until it’s time. I’ll keep watch. Call you if anything changes, otherwise, we talk in five.”
Savvy disconnected, a sudden void filling the cab.
Cross cleared his throat, glanced back at them. “So, is this a good time to tell you that the bridge is already starting to lift?”
McGuire coughed. “Say what?”
Cross shot him a finger gun in the mirror. “I’ve got this, boss, but I’d hold on, if I were you.”
McGuire checked their six, cursing when a black SUV slid out behind them a block back, Keane poised in the passenger seat. Gaze locked on McGuire’s. Keane’s driver hit the gas, started eating up the distance.
Cross gunned it, hit the road to the ramp, the red lights flashing out a steady tempo.
Bells chimed, some guy in a vest waving his arms as Cross dodged around the lineup, hopped onto the sidewalk, then skated across the metal grating, horns bleating, the gate arm nearly clipping their tailgate as it fully settled in place.
He started up the bridge, the center already a few inches apart, Keane’s SUV skidding to a halt on the other side of the arm. Keane leaned out, stared. What looked like a promise he planned to keep.
The bridge lifted higher, everything inside the truck tilting as Cross hit the lip, caught air. The tug’s horn called out, an eerie silence following before they landed on the other side, fishtailing down the ramp.
Blue lights danced in the distance, a few sirens sounding above the thunder as Cross peeled off the main streets, then ducked along an industrial service road that ran parallel to the canal. The other noises faded, leaving only the rain and the truck’s fan filling in the void.
McGuire relaxed a fraction, looked at the salvaged pages in Riven’s lap, then up. “Five days. Midnight. We hit the warehouse — end this.”
Riven nodded once, fierce, determined. “We’ll need weapons, surveillance, and as much intel as we can get on the six possible sites.”
“And bandages.” Patch waved at her and McGuire. “A lot of bandages.”
McGuire snorted, hit Remy’s number. “It’s me. We need a bunk off the map for four nights, bayou side. No traceable names.”
Remy groaned. “Why do I have this recurring nightmare where I regret hiring a ghost squad?”
“You’re just pissed you missed all the action.”
“Right. I’ll text you the instructions. Coordinates are for a skiff.
You’ll need it to access the cabin. Key’s under the third plank, and the fridge and generator are full.
I’ll have Beau drop off a bunch of supplies at the dock.
” Remy paused, breathed. “I have this nagging feeling you’ll be asking for more. ”
McGuire grinned. “See, we already understand each other. And yeah, it’s gonna be a tall order but… This is it. Ride or die.”
“We’ve got your back, brother. I’ll be in touch.”
McGuire ended the call, read Cross the coordinates for the skiff pickup, then checked their six, again.
The neon faded into black marsh and thick foliage, the glow of the city lights shrinking behind them.
Outside, the rain softened into a hiss against the glass, only the odd flash of lightning far off in the distance.
He glanced at the pages, the white a stark contrast to Riven’s black dress, then placed his hand over hers. She didn’t question it, just leaned into him, her head landing on his shoulder.
He breathed her in, noting the hints of rose still clinging to her skin. “We’ll get Langley and Herrera. That’s a promise. All we need to do is lay low, re-arm, regroup. Then, we take the fight to them.”