Chapter 5
The metal rungs of the fire escape groaned under Julian’s sudden weight, the sound masked by the howling coastal wind and the relentless battering of the rain. He pulled himself upward, water streaming down his face and stinging his eyes. Reaching the second-story landing, he found a heavy service door secured only by a rusted latch. With a sharp shove of his shoulder, the metal tongue slipped from its housing with a loud pop.
Julian slipped inside the cavernous upper level of the warehouse. The air here was thick with the smells of old grease, mold, and pigeon droppings. Below him, through a slatted wooden catwalk that overlooked the central office, he could clearly see Clara and her captors. The little girl was still crying softly, her tear-streaked face illuminated by a harsh desk lamp.
“Stop crying, kid. It’s annoying,” the burly man snapped, running a gloved hand over his stubbled jaw. He looked toward the entrance, cursing under his breath. “Where is the contact with the boat? This weather is ruining the schedule.”
“Just keep her quiet,” the woman replied, pacing near the desk. “Eleanor’s transfer funds are clearing through the offshore account as we speak. Once the boat docks, our job is done.”
Julian didn’t wait to hear more. He paced along the creaking catwalk, searching for a way down. Ten feet ahead, a thick canvas hoisting rope hung from a ceiling pulley, dangling directly above a stack of old cargo crates near the office enclosure. It was a risky maneuver, but element of surprise was his only advantage.
He gripped the rough hemp rope, wrapped his legs around it, and pushed off the catwalk. He dropped fast, burning his palms as friction heated the fibers, but he didn't care. He landed with a heavy thud on top of the wooden crates, sending a cloud of choking dust billowing into the air.
Before the two operatives could fully comprehend what was happening, Julian vaulted off the crates, tackling the burly man squarely in the chest. They hit the concrete floor with a violent crash, the man’s satellite phone clattering away across the grease-stained tiles.
“What the—!” the man bellowed, swinging a wild, heavy punch that grazed Julian’s jaw.
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Julian tasted copper, but retaliated with a sharp elbow to the man's ribs, followed by a swift right hook that sent his opponent sprawling backward into a stack of spare tires. The woman reached frantically inside her coat for a concealed sidearm, her eyes wide with sudden panic.
“Clara! Cover your eyes!” Julian yelled, scrambling to his feet as the woman drew her weapon.
