Chapter 21

Faoud was not happy about the turn the weather had taken. His angered gaze growled at the blackened skies for the fourth time in as many minutes as he struck a butane flame and touched it to the end of yet another foul smelling cigar. When he had gotten the damp log to smolder, he gathered some vagrant flakes from the bitter end, and puffed them from the corner of his full moustache. The activity surrounding him had an aimless quality about it, which maddened him even more than the stupid mistakes that had caused them.

The doubled perimeter guard, he had finally called it out just an hour before, had screwed up royally within minutes. The two teams of two motorcycle-mounted guards had been members of rival gangs in the small Spanish community in Texarkana. One of the four had been taunting the other pair unmercifully ever since they had joined the larger group to garrison the warehouse compound. When the objects of this abuse found out they too would be patrolling the riverside of the area, they set up an inept ambush which left four of their own dead, and another eight shot-up so badly, they had to be evacuated back the main camp. The two they ambushed were also hit, only superficially, but they still required care from the two 'medics' in the group. What really pissed him off was that stray bullets boring through the side of the warehouse where they had been sleeping had killed two of his 'good' men. It was such a goddamn waste.

The remaining three dozen men had been split into three groups of twelve each. While the two off-duty shifts cleaned up the mess of splintered wood, shattered glass and blood, the first shift of guards made their rounds on patrol.

The fury of the rainstorm seemed to increase as he watched the seemingly solid wall of water coursing down, trying vainly to fill the six-foot depth of recessed railroad tracks. The movable bridges spanning the fifteen-foot wide obstacle were completely hidden by the gloom, and even the near-edge of the docking area was just a lighter shadow in the midst of blackness.

A ghostly glow was all Gus could see of the Bic's flare from beneath the concrete and steel span of the eastern edge of the pier. From his position under the up-ramp-access road, he could not tell who the smoker was. Nor could he detect more than vague movements in the lighted sheds behind him. He had moved to his present vantagepoint following Joshua's departure, so he could watch this approach to his team's hiding place. Though completely sheltered from the ferocity of the storm, the only dry part of his body was his mouth. His tongue reacted to his commands to wet his lips like a limp swatch of cotton fluff. He had never been this scared before in his entire life. The swollen numbness of his tongue prevented him from mouthing the curses his racing brain brought forth, and the shivers, translated to erratic movements by his hands, came not from the breath-fogging cold which numbed his twenty digits, but from the building fear which welled within him.

Judy gripped his rigid calf, and whispered it was time for them to go. He overcame the trembling paralysis and slid back from the small gap between pier and tracks, to lead his team through the opening on the other side of the ramp.

Joshua again checked the action of the Ruger 10/22, and then felt the end of the homemade suppresser for debris, while he crouched at the end of the Tri-States loading dock. He had not seen any of the defenders, and he was puzzled. He felt certain the routine had been changed because of the possible defection of Chico, but without knowing who had done the changing he had no idea of what changes had been made. He could see lights, probably from candles or lanterns, coming from the cracks around the dock access doors, but had no way of telling if there were people waiting in the warmth and security of the double building. Sue and Leslie were close beside him, under a partial overhang from the dock itself, while Chico was back at the corner of the building watching their back-trail for pursuit, and the arrival of the second team.

"Leslie, ease back and get Chico to come up with me. I'm going to try the door and I want his Uzi to back me up. You stay and watch our back, but make sure it isn't Gus's team before you start shooting anyone OK?"

"I'll wait till I can see the whites of their eyes boss."

Sue watched for the instant it took for Leslie to disappear in the spilling ink of the storm before she turned to the team leader. "Josh, we're lucky to have the people we have aren't we? I mean to have people willing to follow your direction."

" Yes, very lucky. " He reached back and gave Sue's shoulder a reassuring squeeze which turned to a startling pressure and then ended when he jerked around to cover the source of a burst of ominous curses coming from the drenching darkness.

A vague shape crawled toward the two and spoke quietly, "It's me Josh, I just stepped on a bottle and busted my buns in the mud. Sorry I was so loud, it caught me off guard." Chico paused as he brushed water and debris from his eyes and face.

"Leslie's set up in a good position behind an air conditioning unit in a niche on the side of the building. I told her to stay there and watch for the other team, and to let them know where she is so we can regroup there for the trip back. Is that alright?"

" How big is the niche?"

" It's about four-foot square, and covered by the eaves of the building. It's hidden by some bushes, too."

" Ok. Cover me while I move up to the next dock. Count to ten slowly after I leave and follow. Sue, you cover him. Same pattern, ten and follow. Got it?'

Both answered yes, and checked to make sure their weapons were ready. Josh was somewhat surprised to see it was Sue who was the first to check, but was also immensely pleased neither had to be reminded.

"Josh, I almost forgot. Leslie gave me a password for us when we come back, and a recognition sign too. Sharks is the password..."

"And Jets is the recognition sign right." He stated with a chuckle.

Chico was stunned, "How did you know?"

"I enjoyed West Side Story, too." He said as he moved away and wondered when the seventeen-year-old had been exposed to the quarter-of-a-century old movie.

Joshua was invisible to Chico by the time he counted five, but he held up until he got to ten and moved to follow him just as Sue mouthed a quiet "Go." The way was clear, but the packed gravel held a number of shallow puddles that seemed to materialize under his feet on every other step. He continued to count to himself as he approached the stairway on the near side of the West Bend Dock. He was just short of his goal when he reached twenty, but near enough to Josh to hear his taut, but quiet "Go." echo his own.

From the sound of his voice, and logic, Chico placed Joshua under the stairs, and veered to the right to cover the southern approaches. He stretched full length in the debris under the docking pads, scanned the area to the south and west, and then, when he had reached a count of thirty-two, he scrambled back around the corner to join a breathless Sue in sliding beneath the overhanging steps.

" Chico, You're first this time. Go to the hinge side of the door, and wait for me. I'll follow, and try the knob. If it is not locked then you'll crouch, and pull the door open for me to go inside. Close it quickly, and swing to the knob side. Sue, You follow me and cover the area when Chico comes in after a count of three. Then you join us after another count of five. Remember that there is a light inside, and anyone looking this way will be able to see it, so be quick with the door.

Chico almost stopped when he saw the ragged hole just above the handle of the door, but changed direction toward it, and slid into a crouch just below. When he raised up and peered through the ruined lock he saw Reggie DeManos pawing the contents of what looked like a metal footlocker. He glided to the hinge side of the door just as Josh cleared the top step. A strip of dim light filtered around the edge of the door, and Chico used this illumination to signal Josh there was someone inside. Josh acknowledged, gripped the Thermoplast Ramline stock and motioned for Chico to pull open the door.

It took no more than a second for Chico to jerk the handle, and throw himself against the door to close it after Josh slipped through. In that time he heard three sharp coughs from the weapon in Josh's hands, and was almost bowled over when Sue went directly for the handle to open a passage for him. He slid aside, then leapt, and tumbled into the room as she allowed him a way in.

The only movement in the room came from Josh as he flipped the jungle clipped magazines in the Ruger and reloaded the rounds he had expended. Reggie lay sprawled on the concrete floor, his back to Chico, one arm extended toward an AR-15, or M-16 leaning against a stack of boxes inches beyond his outstretched fingers. Precisely on his mental five, Sue charged through the doorway and grabbed the inside bar to heave it closed while turning and surveying the room and its population over the barrel of her KG-99.

Josh got her attention with a quiet " Sue." and pointed toward the shrink-wrapped pallets from which Reggie had pulled a single aluminum crate. He then silently directed Chico to guard the door while he went to rows of shelving sporting a variety of large Nalgene bottles. Heart still hammering in his throat, Chico sank to his knees beside the door, listening to the rain, and watching the systematic method Josh used in checking for needed medications on the rows of shelving.

Gus almost shot her before he realized she was calling his name, and was entreating him to her hiding place. It was not until he passed the small holly bushes that his fear dulled senses allowed him to realize it was Leslie, and there had to be a reason for her placement there.

" Gus, the others have gone on to the other warehouse by now, and there hasn't been anyone else passed since I took over for Chico a few moments ago. The area around the docks was clear, but Josh said you need to be ready because there are lights on inside. We'll regroup here, and the password is 'Sharks.' My response is 'Jets'. Good luck. Hurry back."

By the time Leslie finished her speech, Judy, and Marty had arrived at the corner of the building, and Gus moved toward them after a whispered "OK." By the time he reached them Darrell had also arrived and he quietly cued the three on what had gone on.

" Da-rell, you and Marty stick together from here on out. Judy will stay with me. We'll head for the edge of the dock. You follow. Then you and Marty go to the steps if they are on the opposite side or up them if they are on this side. We'll leapfrog again if the steps are on the other side, but the first group to the door will wait for the other before they go in. No, before I go in. I've got the suppressed rifle, so I'll be the first through the door. We don't want any noise if we can help it."

Marty started to worry when she heard the high-pitched whine of terror creep into Gus' voice. She too was scared, and hoped there was a bathroom in the warehouse because she was about to pee in her pants. There was no sign of panic in the other's voices as they replied, but she knew there was a tremble in her voice she had experienced only once before. The first time she had opened her mouth on stage after another in her company had gone up on his lines. Darrell must have heard the fear too, because he squeezed her shoulder to help quiet her shakes, and was successful.

Gus and Judy departed the inadequate shelter of the building's corner and quickly disappeared into the curtain of darkness that was the rain. Scant seconds later Darrell again gripped her shoulder and moved off after them with Marty holding close behind. The stairs were not on the near side of the dock, so the two continued past the other couple, and slipped around the opposite side before halting and scanning for anyone approaching their position. They completed a quick sweep of the area, and were starting another when Gus and Judy slid around the corner and pounded up the concrete stairs, with Marty and Darrell close behind.

Darrell used the ragged hole as a spying device, and was not surprised to see a short, fat black man walking purposefully toward the closed door, an assault rifle in his hands.

" There's one coming this way with a rifle, Gus I'll get the door, you get him. NOW!"

Gus barely had time between the warning and the action to raise his Ruger, a twin to Josh's, and click off the safety. Instinct took over as the door swung wide to reveal a humpty-dumpty figure in black, clutching a wicked assault rifle. The weapon was even then swinging from across his chest to point toward the door. Before Gus realized he had started firing, the action clicked on an empty chamber and Judy was there, grabbing his arm in an effort to pull him into the building. The area behind the now deceased guard had been shelves containing various and sundry liquids, but was now a jumble of broken glass, shattered plastic and spattered syrups.

Judy's voice cut through his fog with a stern, "Everyone inside, and get the door closed, Now." It allowed him to catch his physical balance before he fell over the cooling body that had been Jorge Ortiz.

Bile reared from his groin as the realization of what he had done finally penetrated the abject terror he had been fighting all day. Nothing passed his grinding teeth, but the yellowish acid of bile burned his tongue and throat as he forcefully swallowed again, and again while gazing upon the naked death he had caused. Judy's talented fingers kneaded the knotted cords at the base of his neck, and numbness spread from the small part of his brain devoted to the instinctive response of continuing his life, of surviving.