Warehouse Nine
Chapter 06 - Warehouse Nine
Warehouse Nine had no sign.
No company logo.
No security desk.
Just a long brick building squeezed beneath the elevated tracks in Long Island City, its loading doors painted the same tired gray as the sky.
Mave parked two blocks away.
Leo sat in the passenger seat.
Nolan followed in another car.
“You should stay here,” Leo said.
Mave turned off the engine.
“Try again.”
He sighed.
“I think going inside is dangerous.”
“Better.”
“I still think you should stay here.”
“No.”
“Worth a try.”
Nolan came to her window.
“Truck arrives in eighteen minutes.”
Mave checked her tablet.
“Fourteen.”
“How?”
“Driver cleared the Queensboro bridge six minutes ago.”
Nolan stared.
“You can see that?”
“Clean logistics system.”
She put the tablet in her black portfolio.
“My world, remember?”
Warehouse Nine officially held obsolete medical equipment.
The shipping manifest listed thirty-two imaging units.
The truck weight made no sense.
Mave had noticed it in the car.
“Too heavy,” she said.
Leo looked at the figures.
“By?”
“Almost four thousand pounds.”
“Hidden cargo?”
“Or fake equipment.”
Nolan checked the rear door.
“Open.”
They entered.
Cold concrete.
Dust.
One working fluorescent strip.
The building had been empty recently enough to look abandoned and used recently enough not to be.
Pallet marks on the floor.
Fresh coffee cup in a trash can.
A battery charger plugged into the wall.
Mave walked toward the office.
A routing board hung beside the window.
Old dates had been erased.
One remained faintly visible.
MERCER — NEWARK — 02:30.
Her chest tightened.
Leo saw it.
“Mave.”
“I’m fine.”
She was not.
That did not mean she had to leave.
A truck engine approached.
Nolan turned off the light.
They waited behind stacked crates.
The roll-up door opened.
A refrigerated truck backed inside.
One man drove.
Another stood outside guiding him.
Mave recognized the second man.
Rafe Calder.
Dominic’s driver.
He wore the same black gloves.
Leo’s face hardened.
Rafe closed the door.
The driver climbed down.
Not Michael.
Twenty-five at most.
Mave hated herself for feeling relief and disappointment at the same time.
Rafe opened the truck.
Inside were no imaging machines.
Metal cases.
Numbered.
Nolan whispered:
“Weapons.”
Mave looked closer.
“No.”
He glanced at her.
“Medical coolers.”
She recognized the cases from logistics invoices.
Temperature-controlled transport.
Rafe removed one.
Opened it.
Cash.
Bundles sealed in plastic.
Mave’s stomach turned.
The medical equipment manifests were laundering currency through fake cold-chain routes.
Thirty thousand dollars was not payment.
It was a balancing transfer.
A small figure inserted so the clean books matched fuel, insurance and driver expenses around illicit cash movement.
She had found the bookkeeping seam.
Rafe spoke to the driver.
“Mercer authorization?”
The driver held up a phone.
Rafe scanned a code.
Mave moved.
Leo caught her sleeve.
She looked at him.
He released it.
She stepped out.
“Rafe.”
Both men froze.
Rafe’s hand moved inside his jacket.
Nolan appeared from the other side.
“Don’t.”
Leo stepped into the light.
Rafe looked between them.
Then laughed softly.
“The secretary.”
Mave lifted her chin.
“The accountant in me prefers logistics coordinator.”
“You are exactly like Elaine.”
“People keep saying that.”
Rafe’s smile faded.
“Where is Michael?”
The question hit harder because Rafe asked first.
“You tell me.”
“He gave you the code.”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
Rafe looked at Leo.
Mave saw it.
A flicker.
Recognition.
Leo’s face changed.
“Don’t.”
Rafe smiled.
“There he is.”
Mave looked between them.
“You know each other.”
Leo’s voice was flat.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Later.”
“No.”
Rafe laughed.
“You might want the long version.”
Leo moved closer.
Rafe drew his gun.
Everything happened quickly after that.
Nolan struck the driver’s wrist.
Leo pushed Mave behind a steel column.
A shot cracked into concrete.
Mave covered her head.
Then silence.
When she looked again, Rafe was on the ground.
Leo’s knee pressed between his shoulders.
Nolan had the gun.
The driver had fled through the loading door.
Nobody chased him.
Smart.
Police were called.
Actual police.
Then federal agents because the cash and false manifests crossed state lines.
Mave remained beside the office window while Leo stood ten feet away.
She could feel the conversation waiting.
Rafe was handcuffed.
He looked at her.
“Your father didn’t kill Price.”
Mave stared.
“What?”
Leo turned.
“Shut up.”
Rafe laughed.
“You still protecting everybody?”
Leo’s face hardened.
Rafe looked directly at Mave.
“Michael Mercer is alive.”
Her pulse accelerated.
“I know that might be true.”
“No.”
Rafe smiled through a split lip.
“It is true.”
“Where is he?”
Rafe looked toward Leo.
“Ask him.”
Mave’s eyes shifted.
Leo went still.
Rafe continued:
“Ask your faithful bodyguard who he met three nights after you started working for Costa.”
The warehouse seemed to go silent around them.
Mave looked at Leo.
“Who did you meet?”
He did not answer.
That was answer enough.
“Leo.”
May you like
His voice came low.
“Your father.”
