Page 7 of The Sins That Bleed

Itsy Bitsy Spider

RAI

R ain, big fat drops relinquished from the dark grey sky overhead, create a sombre atmosphere, matching my worsening mood.

Waiting for what is to come is the worst part, with no way to guarantee the outcome.

After securing the urgent warrant and the tactical team prepared, we all wait in position at the docks. Everyone is in place to intercept the business deal that’s about to go down in the next hour. Throwing this plan together within the same day took a lot of effort, but we’re ready.

The results that came back from the database showed us that this late afternoon would match the exact time frame the previous tickets had been written up, and it’s our only chance to intercept the exchange and potentially get the victims back to their families.

Adrenaline courses through me but I tamp it down. It’s too early to be getting amped up.

The sound of footsteps bounces off the damp concrete created by the rain, causing puddles to form rapidly. We have to let this play out since we still aren’t sure we’ve got the right container holding the people we’re looking for.

Nico double-taps me on the shoulder, a signal for us to stay ready while shit goes down.

I need to see the people I’ve been spending every waking hour with, pouring over their files and learning everything I can about them in hopes that I can find them quicker, alive and safe.

All of my sleepless nights have led up to this moment.

I glance at my partner and he gives me a grin—he’s ready to get these people out of here but his eyes give him away.

He’s been just as tormented by how long it’s taken us to get to this point, only he handles it in a different way.

I give him a smile of my own, but it doesn’t reach my eyes.

I can see the traces of discomfort lining his face at the need to keep quiet.

It’s eating at him so I point to my ear and mimic footsteps with my fingers.

He tilts his head, his blond mohawk hidden beneath the standard issue black cap he’s wearing, and stays that way for a moment while I wait. He holds five fingers up at me, he’s counted the steps to figure out how many are coming towards our position.

It’s no longer than a few seconds after he had held them up that our earpieces crackle with the comms coming through from another agent.

“Eyes on target, five suspects in total, all carrying weapons. Hold position.”

Nico’s smug smirk at guessing the number correctly has me grinning. I still find it impressive how he does that. A one hundred percent success rate so far, and I won’t hear the end of it when this mission is over.

The footsteps get closer to our position and our faces grow serious once more.

We’re hidden on top of a container, one with a tarp lying over the top to cover some extra crates, so we’ve been hiding underneath it in wait.

We’ve got a perfect view of the container we believe the unfortunate people are in.

Usually we would have confirmed ahead of time but the thermal scanning equipment that picks up body heat has gone missing.

An inquiry has been logged, but that’s out of my hands now.

I steady my breath, concentrating on the moment and time slows. This is it. Five men come into view, all varying in height and dress. I immediately clock who is running this part of the show in his expensive black suit, polished shoes shining in the dim light from the shipping yard.

Jai Coltrane.

Another man is holding a large umbrella, a stocky guy who appears to be security and willing to get wet to keep his boss dry.

There’s one other guy, built like a reed and dressed the same as the guy cosplaying as Mary Poppins.

His hands haven’t left his sides, hovering by the gun positioned on his hip.

This could end badly; I don’t have it in me to get into a gunfight today. I silently pray to whatever deity blessed us this morning when we found that parking ticket to give us a little more luck, if only for today.

The other bastards walking with them without care for the miserable weather must be the movers. The ones that bring the containers in and hand over the people inside them, although this isn’t usually the final destination.

It will be today, I vow it.

There’s too little fanfare for this meetup so they can’t be planning to leave with the people inside today. There’s been no comms from the other agents that a vehicle big enough has arrived to transport the thirteen people we believe to be in the container they stand before.

“Everything went well I presume?” the guy in the suit asks the two others, talking loudly over the tinny noise of rain hitting metal.

Both movers are dressed in all black, but they’re wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. I tap Nico and indicate for him to look at the logo embroidered on them. I can’t quite make it out from this distance, but he pulls out his phone and attaches a tiny lens to the back camera, snapping a silent photo.

He’s always been a tech lover, tinkering with gadgets, so he decided to build a mini lens that’s as powerful as any professional camera.

It’s come in handy on stakeouts when we can’t risk pulling out a massive camera or carrying one around with us.

He pockets his phone so we can investigate that lead later.

“Yes, the shipment came in late last night. No casualties with the goods this time so we won’t need to do a write-off,” one of the men barks out with a laugh.

Neither of the movers appear to be bothered by the rain—perks of working outside I presume. My fingers twitch with the urge to wipe this scum from the earth, but I hold back because this has to be done properly.

“Good, that’s good. Well, open it up, boys, I still need to get a headcount done before we can start planning for the distribution of the goods to our buyers,” Jai shouts.

I catch his smile and it’s maniacal. He’s someone who enjoys being in charge and will do anything to keep his position. I’m still waiting on his results for the complete background check, but I bet he has an arrest history that doesn’t cover half the things he’s done.

“Yes, sir,” the two movers say in unison.

They turn on their heel and step up to the container doors, one on each side as they unlock the padlock and chains. They slide the deadbolt across and lift the large metal rods securing the container closed. The time has come, the moment I’ve dreamt about since I took on this case.

Static fills my earpiece as Nico speaks to the team in a hushed whisper. “Weapons ready, standby.”

We both draw our pistols and aim, fingers hovering over the safety. The rain has picked up now and coming down harder. A chorus of tinny pings surround us as it ricochets off the metal, Nico and I focused on the scene before us, hoping that this doesn’t end in tragedy.

Every single one of the missing will survive this moment and return to their loved ones.

I chant the mantra as the raindrops seemingly fall in slow motion.

I watch the doors open; from this vantage point we can see straight into the container without our view being blocked.

I’m expecting the hinges to squeak, for people to scream and try to escape, but there is nothing.

No sound permeates the air, it’s too calm.

Once the doors are fully open I can see why—every single person has been stripped with no clothing in sight, chained to the walls of the container. There isn’t much light to see clearly all the way to the back, but I imagine it looks the same.

“Holy fuck,” I whisper at the same time Nico spits a muffled, “Fucking hell.”

This is cruelty beyond belief. They’ve made makeshift latrines for each person so they must have just enough give in the chains to use them.

My eyes land on one man—he’s young and chained towards the front, and I scan him to see what could possibly be keeping them all so quiet and it’s like something straight out of a horror movie.

Their mouths have been covered with masks that appear to be made of metal.

I can partially make out a ridge on them, to feed them probably.

We need to get closer to find out what medieval device they’ve used here.

I swallow down my disgust and concentrate on what needs to be done, waiting for Nico to make the call to the other agents.

“Now, close in!” he communicates before we’re on the move.

We descend from our hidden spot on top of the container, our feet slapping the wet ground beneath us as the five men are swarmed from every angle and cuffed before they can even get a weapon out.

Relief courses through me that this was a success with no casualties and I flick the safety back on, slipping my gun into its holder. I head toward the container while the other agents read these bastards their rights.

Ones they no longer deserve to have.

I hear them barking orders for the paramedics to be let in that were waiting a few minutes out.

I can only hope those we found only need food and water, and nothing more serious.

I don’t even contemplate the mental care they will need to process this ordeal.

My eyes scan each person, looking for the one person I’m yet to find—my sister.

Azara .

My heart cracks a little more with no sign of my sister being among them.

The agents slowly release each person. I curse at myself for not bringing anything to cover them with.

We have no blankets, but I can’t let them suffer any further pain or humiliation by leaving them naked.

I’m about to bark orders to every agent within earshot to give up their jackets when my direct line of sight is blocked by someone who hadn’t been there a moment ago.