Chapter Thirty-One
It was late afternoon when they reached the front of Oleski Trading Company’s warehouse.
“What the hell is this?” Rafer asked. “There are no doors or windows. It’s just a big concrete chunk.”
Gabriela liked it. It reminded her of Scrooge McDuck’s money vault in Duckburg.
Ahmed drove around the block and pulled up to the chain-link gate for the parking lot at the back of the building.
“The parking lot is empty, and the building has four loading dock bays. One door,” Ahmed said.
“We should take a look,” Gabriela said, getting out of the car.
Rafer and Ahmed followed her and the three of them stood at the gate.
“I don’t see any cameras,” Gabriela said. “This guy thinks he has the ultimate vault, and he doesn’t need cameras.”
“Probably doesn’t need cameras because he has a mercenary army inside,” Rafer said.
Gabriela went back to the Range Rover and got her gun belt and knapsack.
She buckled herself into the gun belt and put a couple flash-bangs in her sweatshirt pocket.
The second Range Rover was parked behind Ahmed’s car.
The men in the Range Rover were looking wide-eyed at Gabriela and shaking their heads.
“I don’t suppose you brought bolt cutters?” Gabriela said to Ahmed.
Ahmed smiled. “You need bolt cutters?”
“No,” Gabriela said, “but we could have driven the cars in if you had bolt cutters.”
She ran at the twelve-foot chain link, jumped at it, and went up it like Spider-Man. She went over the top, dropped to the ground, and jogged to the warehouse door.
Ahmed and Rafer were still standing outside the fence.
“I can see why you married her and why you divorced her,” Ahmed said to Rafer.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Rafer said. “This is the tip of the iceberg.”
Ahmed got an assault rifle out of the Ranger Rover. He motioned to his men to stand down, slung the rifle over his shoulder, and gave his handgun to Rafer.
They ran at the fence, went up and over, and followed Gabriela. She unlocked the door and eased it open. Lights were on inside. The building was square. Two stories tall. Metal stairs led to a catwalk that surrounded the interior.
Wood crates of varying sizes were stacked in rows six and seven feet tall.
They were labeled with numbers. Could have been gold, Snickers bars, or drugs.
A forklift was parked by one of the loading dock doors.
Empty pallets were stacked next to the forklift.
Gabriela silently moved through the maze of crates.
She stopped when she heard something that sounded like a very soft moan.
Ahmed was behind her. He put his hand on her shoulder and moved her aside so he could take the lead.
They reached the end of one of the rows of crates.
Ahmed stepped out from behind the crates and there was a series of rapid-fire gunshots that tore into the wood and ricocheted off a metal hand truck.
Ahmed ducked back, the gunfire stopped, and Ahmed leaned around the corner, fired two shots, and took out the gunman.
A second man appeared and shot two rounds at Ahmed, and Ahmed dropped him.
“Enter with caution,” Ahmed said into his earbud. “Two shooters down.”
Teddy Searl and Rocky Mausud were on the floor not far from the first gunman. They were bound hand and foot and soaked in sweat. Searl’s eye was swollen and bruising. His lip was cut. Tartoni was on the floor, not moving, in a pool of blood. His hand wasn’t attached to his body.
Ahmed went down on one knee beside Tartoni and put his hand to Tartoni’s neck. “He has a pulse,” Ahmed said.
“After they cut his hand off, he kept fainting,” Mausud said. “They cauterized the stump, and it didn’t bleed so much. It looked like they knew what they were doing. Like they cut hands off all the time.”
“I knew this was bad,” Searl said. “No one would listen to me.” His voice was shaking, and his drool was tinged with blood. “I told them not to trust Oleski.”
“Take it easy, Teddy,” Mausud said. “The worst is over.”
“It isn’t over,” Searl said. “She’s the fortune hunter. She’s the one working with Harley Patch.”
“We’ll make a deal,” Mausud said to Searl. “We’re all businessmen.”
“Oleski is a businessman,” Searl said.
“Oleski is a psychopath,” Mausud said.
Ahmed turned to Mausud. “Where are the stolen paintings and artifacts?”
“Oleski has them,” Mausud said. “He moved them out before we got here. We were supposed to make the deal here like last time, but Oleski got pissed off because pieces were missing. He wasn’t going to pay us until he got all the pieces he ordered.
Harry tried to reason with him but that just made him crazier.
He thought he could beat it out of us. We probably would have all been beaten to death, but Oleski got hungry.
Said he wasn’t going to miss lunch on our account.
Have you ever seen Oleski? He looks like he never missed lunch in his life.
Like he eats half a soccer team for lunch. ”
“He’s an ogre,” Searl said.
“Where’s Bench?” Gabriela asked.
“They took Harry with them,” Mausud said. “They went to lunch, and we haven’t seen them since.”
Serge, Jamal, Homus, and Zac walked in.
“Did you come over the gate or through the gate?” Rafer asked.
“Through the gate,” Serge said.
“Nice,” Rafer said.
Ahmed told Jamal and Homus to put Searl, Mausud, and Tartoni in their Range Rover.
“This town doesn’t have a hospital, but there’s a clinic not far from here,” Ahmed said.
“We passed it on the way. Take Tartoni to the clinic. We can collect him later if he lives. And don’t forget to give them his hand.
After you drop Tartoni at the clinic you can drive the other two back to Valgenico and turn them over to the police. ”
“What about the guards?” Rafer asked.
Everyone looked over at the guards, who were clearly dead.
“They’re not my problem,” Ahmed said. “We need to pay Mr. Oleski a visit.”
Oleski lived in a wealthy enclave that was a half hour from his warehouse. The entrance to his property was gated and lushly landscaped. Beyond the gate, the driveway, bordered by terraced gardens, sloped up to the Tuscan-style mansion.
Serge and Zac stayed with the Range Rover that was blocking the driveway.
Ahmed, Rafer, and Gabriela went on foot, around the gate and through the densely packed flowering shrubs.
They each had a rifle and a sidearm, extra ammo, and a variety of fun accessories like stun guns, zip ties, and flash-bangs.
An armed man stood watch in the house’s porte cochere. His attention was focused on the driveway.
“Hey, Gabs,” Rafer whispered. “They have valet parking.”
“And he’s armed with a submachine gun to make sure your car is secure,” Gabriela said.
“What’s the plan?” Rafer asked. “Are we going in like gangbusters? Just mow down everyone and rush the fat psycho?”
“That wouldn’t be my first choice,” Ahmed said.
“Would it be your second choice?” Rafer asked.
“Yes,” Ahmed said. “Definitely my second choice.” Ahmed looked at Gabriela. “I need you to neutralize the guard.”
“You want me to shoot him?”
“No. That would be too noisy. I want you to distract him. Pop out of the bushes and get his attention while I come in from behind.”
Gabriela removed her gun belt and handed it over to Rafer, along with her rifle.
She looked down at herself and took stock.
Skinny jeans, T-shirt, black sweatshirt.
Not exactly alluring. She shrugged out of her sweatshirt and stripped off her T-shirt, leaving her in her lacy La Perla bra.
She put the sweatshirt back on but didn’t zip it.
She unleashed her hair from its ponytail and fluffed it out.
Rafer and Ahmed were looking at her and smiling.
“What?” she asked. “Too much?”
“Not for me,” Rafer said.
“I’m distracted,” Ahmed said.
All this and she can shoot and climb a chain-link fence, Ahmed thought. He’d have a hard time sleeping tonight.
Gabriela bushwhacked through some azaleas and staggered onto the driveway just in front of the porte cochere. “S’il vous pla?t!” she said. “S’il vous pla?t! Aidez-moi! Au secours.”
“Halt,” the man said.
Gabriela kept moving forward. “S’il vous pla?t!” Her voice caught in a sob. She was holding her sweatshirt together with one hand. She let go of the sweatshirt and reached out to him. “Aidez-moi!”
His eyes went to her lace bra and then to her anguished face.
She stumbled in front of him, he reached out to grab her, and Ahmed hit him in the head with his rifle butt.
The man went down to the ground and Ahmed dragged him into the bushes and zip-tied his hands and ankles.
Gabriela traded her sweatshirt for her T-shirt, buckled herself into her gun belt, and took her rifle from Rafer.
“I had to think about dead kittens to keep from getting a boner watching you,” Rafer said. “You could have a good second career as a porn star.”
“I’m going to assume that’s a compliment.”
“Fuckin’ A,” Rafer said.
Ahmed returned and opened the front door.
They stepped in and took the temperature of the house.
They were in a large formal foyer with a center hall table and a fresh flower display.
They could hear voices somewhere in the distance.
Ahmed took point and they silently moved toward the voices.
They crept through the formal dining room and stopped at the open door that led to the kitchen.
Bench was strapped to a kitchen chair. He was slumped over.
There was blood on the arm of his white dress shirt.
An overweight, jowled, red-faced, balding older man stood over Bench.
Oleski, Gabriela thought. And two henchmen beside him. A third thug was leaning against an oversized marble island. Knives, a stainless-steel meat tenderizer, and pliers were casually laid out on the counter.