Page 112
And to their advantage. All they needed to do was call the police and—
The motor connected to the overhead door started to whir. “Sam,” Remi whispered, looking into the container, then back toward the door as voices drifted toward them.
Sam returned the jack to the wall and followed Remi into the container. “Help me move the pallet back in place.”
They grabbed the wooden frame, dragging it back so it was even with the other pallet, hoping the scrape of wood against metal would be covered by the sound of the overhead steel door rising. Once the pallet was in place, he and Remi felt their way in the dark to the back of the Ghost, crouching beneath the canvas covering it.
Remi took his hand. “What happens when they discover the container door open?” she whispered.
“We’re about to find out.” He drew his gun, resting it on his knee.
At first, they heard nothing but their own breathing. A moment later, footsteps, followed by someone saying, “Who left the container open?”
“I thought I closed it. Was the door locked?”
“Of course
it was locked. You saw me put the key in.”
“Open it. Make sure the car’s still there.”
Sam heard footsteps, the squeak of the pallet jack as someone rolled it over, shoving the forks under the pallet, then rolling it out. Light filtered in beneath the canvas along the sides of the container. As Sam gripped his gun, he felt Remi tense beside him.
One of the men pulled the canvas up from the front, revealing the Gray Ghost. “Still here. Why? What’s wrong?”
“The buyer found a phone in Marchand’s office. He thought someone might be following Rossi.”
“If they were, they didn’t find anything.”
“Let’s cover it up. This thing’s shipping out.”
“I thought the buyer wanted to examine it first.”
“He called back. He wants it out of here on the very next shipment. Worried that someone will get to it before he does.”
The other man laughed. “And what? He thinks somebody’s going to spirit it out of here? They’d be dead before they ever made it past the door.”
They dropped the canvas over the front of the car and moved the false front back in place. The darkness returned.
“Crisis averted,” Sam whispered. But then they heard the clang of metal, followed by the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking shut as someone secured the container’s door closed.
“You’re sure about that?”
“Of course,” Sam said, as he holstered his gun and lifted the canvas. He felt his way to the front of the container.
A moment later, Remi joined him. “I hope you have a plan.”
Sam took out his cell phone to see if there was any chance of a signal. None. “I’d say we’re going to ride this thing to the UK.”
“And then what?”
He shined his flashlight on the Gray Ghost.
“That, Remi, is a darn good question.”
73
Sam and Remi climbed into the front seat of the Gray Ghost. At least they would have a comfortable ride. To Remi, being trapped inside the box of metal was unnerving. But that was nothing compared to the helpless feeling when the container was actually being moved onto the back of the truck, which rumbled down the street a few minutes later.
The motor connected to the overhead door started to whir. “Sam,” Remi whispered, looking into the container, then back toward the door as voices drifted toward them.
Sam returned the jack to the wall and followed Remi into the container. “Help me move the pallet back in place.”
They grabbed the wooden frame, dragging it back so it was even with the other pallet, hoping the scrape of wood against metal would be covered by the sound of the overhead steel door rising. Once the pallet was in place, he and Remi felt their way in the dark to the back of the Ghost, crouching beneath the canvas covering it.
Remi took his hand. “What happens when they discover the container door open?” she whispered.
“We’re about to find out.” He drew his gun, resting it on his knee.
At first, they heard nothing but their own breathing. A moment later, footsteps, followed by someone saying, “Who left the container open?”
“I thought I closed it. Was the door locked?”
“Of course
it was locked. You saw me put the key in.”
“Open it. Make sure the car’s still there.”
Sam heard footsteps, the squeak of the pallet jack as someone rolled it over, shoving the forks under the pallet, then rolling it out. Light filtered in beneath the canvas along the sides of the container. As Sam gripped his gun, he felt Remi tense beside him.
One of the men pulled the canvas up from the front, revealing the Gray Ghost. “Still here. Why? What’s wrong?”
“The buyer found a phone in Marchand’s office. He thought someone might be following Rossi.”
“If they were, they didn’t find anything.”
“Let’s cover it up. This thing’s shipping out.”
“I thought the buyer wanted to examine it first.”
“He called back. He wants it out of here on the very next shipment. Worried that someone will get to it before he does.”
The other man laughed. “And what? He thinks somebody’s going to spirit it out of here? They’d be dead before they ever made it past the door.”
They dropped the canvas over the front of the car and moved the false front back in place. The darkness returned.
“Crisis averted,” Sam whispered. But then they heard the clang of metal, followed by the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking shut as someone secured the container’s door closed.
“You’re sure about that?”
“Of course,” Sam said, as he holstered his gun and lifted the canvas. He felt his way to the front of the container.
A moment later, Remi joined him. “I hope you have a plan.”
Sam took out his cell phone to see if there was any chance of a signal. None. “I’d say we’re going to ride this thing to the UK.”
“And then what?”
He shined his flashlight on the Gray Ghost.
“That, Remi, is a darn good question.”
73
Sam and Remi climbed into the front seat of the Gray Ghost. At least they would have a comfortable ride. To Remi, being trapped inside the box of metal was unnerving. But that was nothing compared to the helpless feeling when the container was actually being moved onto the back of the truck, which rumbled down the street a few minutes later.
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