“I can’t give you information that will lead to a gang war,” Cora protested. “Tell me, or this conversation is over. You think I can’t find out where they are? Now that I’ve seen those dots?”

  He paused for a moment, fidgeting under the desk, then shrugged. "Okay. You win. It’s a guy called Rodic. That's his name. He’s the dot all the way to the right on that map. They’ve lost some territory recently. They've taken over a two story building, on North Street. They're in there. It's well protected."

  But at that moment, Cora heard footsteps from another direction.

  Coming from behind a large, full length tapestry on the wall behind his desk.

  And she thought she knew what this boss had done. He’d kept her talking, and activated an alarm or a signal to open that hidden door. In one more moment, his guards would burst through that door and she’d be trapped.

  But she wasn’t sticking around for that. She had a couple of seconds left to take back the initiative, and she was going to use them.

  She grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back, kicking away the chair from under the door, and wrenching it open.

  With her gun to the back of his neck, she shoved him in front of her, past the astounded scattering of his goons, using the element of surprise and the painful grip on his hair and the fact that he was between her and them. She got as far as the passage where she’d come in.

  Then, she shoved him forward so that he sprawled into the group, turned, and ran down the passage, into the storeroom, slamming the door, and turning the key.

  It took her only a few moments to wriggle back through the aircon vent. Then, she was out, sprinting down the road that led behind the warehouses, guessing that the way would be clear because every single one of the goons was in the front, trying to untangle themselves from their boss and get the storeroom door open.

  Bruised egos aplenty, Cora guessed. But she knew she had been lucky. It was a dangerous game confronting the gangs. This case was leading her into a dark world, and so far, she had nothing to show for it. She’d been spiraling down into the world of women for hire, pimps, gangs, and hookups. And all she'd gotten was further down the rabbit hole.

  Eventually, Cora told herself, she was going to find the truth.

  She sprinted down the road. There was Gabe, waiting anxiously by the car.

  "You're alright," he said, relief washing over his face. "I was worried about you. You were in there a long time."

  “Let’s get going.”

  She piled in and he drove, burning rubber as he headed away from the warehouse.

  “Guy's name is Gino, and he heads up that gang. Pimping, a few other money making activities. He was surprised I got in, but I found him there alone. I was lucky but he was careless. In the end, he gave me some information."

  "What did he say?"

  "He reckons a rival gang's doing this. He's given me the area where they're based. He thinks that they're getting other girls off the street, opening up territory for their women, and probably also taking his women specifically, to cause damage."

  "A rival gang?"

  She glanced at him. There was real worry in his eyes.

  Cora nodded. "He said they're very well-armed, and their security is like Fort Knox. I think they’re planning some sort of revenge move, but he was cagey about it. Obviously."

  "He's not just throwing you to the wolves there? That's what it sounds like to me!" Now, Gabe sounded mad. With her. "He wants you to go in there and get taken out. I can see it, Cora! His ego's dented because you got into his place. But these other guys sound more aggressive."

  "Yes, they are. But the truth is that a rival gang would be likely to do this. It's a genuine lead, Gabe; we can’t ignore it if they're taking women off the streets and damaging rival gang’s assets. If they were ruthless enough, they might kill them. They'd have to be very ruthless, but it's a possibility. This could be why these women are disappearing, and we have to follow it up."

  Gabe shook his head. "I don't like this. Not at all. You said it yourself. You were lucky there. Next time, you might not be so lucky. You can't keep blasting your way into gang headquarters, Cora. Not into the teeth of a highly ruthless and well-protected organization."

  "Well, we need to think of another way, then," she said defiantly, but she knew Gabe was right.

  She had been lucky. Nobody stayed lucky forever.

  As she drove, Cora's mind raced. She had to follow this lead, but heading into the territory of another gang was no easy feat. She knew that she needed to come up with a plan. She so badly wanted to storm in there with guns blazing, to take them out, to destroy them. She hated gangs, hated the entire underworld.

  But it existed, and sometimes, not even the combined might of law enforcement could annihilate them. She was only one person, and she had a responsibility to her client to seek the truth, and stay alive for long enough to find it.

  Storming the gate would have to wait. She wasn't giving up on the idea, but she admitted that for now, it was too risky.

  "Okay, you're right," she admitted. "I think we're going to have to do this the stealthy way."

  "And what's that?" Gabe challenged.

  "We need to go back to grassroots level, and ask one of the girls."

  "You mean?"

  "One of the girls this gang uses."

  "But if they're killing other women from rival organizations, the workers themselves might not know," Gabe protested. Cora could see he didn't like the idea, but that was only because he hadn't taken it as far as she had.

  "The women wouldn't know that," she agreed. "But what if some of their workers have been taken, too?"

  Now, Gabe nodded in understanding. “Yeah. I get you.”

  "If they've also had people go missing, then it's not the rival gang doing it. Then we can rule them out,” Cora elaborated. “If people have gone missing, they’ll know, and they’ll be scared. But if they haven't had anyone go missing, then we go back to our original plan, and we get in there and find out who's responsible.”

  Gabe was quiet for a while, taking in this idea.

  "Your plan for doing that?"

  "We need to track their movements. They'll be sending girls out. We know where their premises are. It's now late afternoon, and business is most likely being done. Let's go there, and start surveillance. See who's going out, and make a plan to follow them."

  Gabe nodded, finally looking more approving of her ideas, when they didn’t involve going in the front door of a gang headquarters and getting into a gun battle with everyone inside.

  "We’re going to need to be very careful,” he emphasized. “Gang conflict will have everyone on high alert, and if we go, there’s a big risk we might be caught up in it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  As they approached the rival gang’s headquarters, knowing how high the stakes were, and the potential for danger, Cora put some quick plans into place with Gabe.

  “It looks like there are two main routes in and out, so we’ll need to cover both,” she said, stopping to consult the map while they were still far enough away not to be seen by any lookouts, but close enough that they could get a sense of the neighborhood.

  It was rundown. There were a few small businesses lining the streets, some houses and apartment buildings that all looked tightly locked up with homemade security precautions in place. There was a sense of fear. She felt it, in the air of quiet and watchfulness. She saw it in the barbed wire and the security bars and the padlocks on the properties they had passed.

  “We have one car,” Gabe pointed out. “Best way to handle that?” He frowned at the map. “Maybe the front entrance, on that busier road, might be a better one to watch on foot.”

  “Yes. And the other will need a car, because it branches into two further on,” Cora said. “You’d need to follow in a car to see which route they take.”

  As they headed towards the rival gang's headquarters to take a closer look at the place itself, she felt her unease intensify. The two-story apartment, a squat, concrete building, was well guarded. That was obvious from a simple drive past.

  There were lookouts lurking on every corner of the building, and they weren’t low quality manpower. Cora guessed it was medium to high quality, from the men's demeanor, and their build, and the weapons they carried. She had no illusions about how dangerous this might prove to be. At least this was confirming to her that their initial plans were correct. They needed to use stealth here, because there was no easy way in.

  The apartment’s main entrance had a heavy metal door. All the windows were covered in blinds. She saw a wide steel gate on the side, used for vehicles. But there was another one on the opposite side, too.

  "Okay," she said, after they'd driven around. "They’ve seen us, for sure. We can’t come back. I'm going to take the car and drive down the road, get out of sight, and start watching. You take the front?"

  “I’ll be on my way.”

  You okay?" she asked. She knew Gabe had been a brilliant, capable partner so far, but partners needed to check in on each other. He might be as tough as nails, but he was a civilian. He hadn't had her training, her years of law enforcement experience, the face-to-face confrontations with criminals, the traumatizing memories of the bodies.

  But his eyes were locked on hers, steady and resolute.

  "Of course I'm okay. What are you waiting for?" he asked impatiently, and a knot of worry inside her loosened. Gabe was fine.

  He got out, and set off on foot, one of a few pedestrians. He kept his shoulders down, his head low, walking slowly, and making an effort not to attract attention.

  Anything might happen in the next few hours. Cora didn’t want to sit and watch patiently, but they had to for the next while. One thing she was sure of, from what Gino had said. This gang was aggressive, they were ruthless, and their operation involved women. Some of those would have to go out and about, soon. The day was warming up, and opportunities were beckoning.

  Heading up the hill, Cora parked the car at a discreet corner, hidden from view by a bushy tree, but with a good view through the branches.

  There was a lookout a couple of blocks down, between her and the building. After a few minutes of observation, she noticed him patrolling. A man, dressed in black, big shoulders, a knit cap on his head, and a firearm on his hip. She could see its shape below his jacket.

  This was his territory, this back area, and he paced back and forth, not trying to stay out of sight but rather to provide a visible deterrent. Cora watched him for a while, analyzing his behavior. It was clear he took his job seriously but was also comfortable in his surroundings. He approached a passerby, greeted him; they shook hands and he gave the man a cigarette.

  Another man, however, got closer attention. The guard walked up and questioned him, his body language changed now, much more aggressive.

  He was doing a good job in patrolling.

  She got the sense that this operation was still small, but that it had teeth. She hadn't seen a weak point or a way in, and hoped that if they waited, they would see someone going out.

  There was a car!

  Cora's heart sped up as she saw the car emerge from the gated area at the side of the building. It was a black sedan, sleek and expensive-looking, and it stopped just outside the gate. Two men were in the front, their faces obscured by the tinted windows, and she couldn't make out their features or clothing.

  Then, the car slowed and the passenger door swung open. A man in a dark suit emerged from the passenger side and checked the area, his eyes darting back and forth. He gave a signal and two more men came out, both also in suits, holding briefcases.

  Whatever this was, and she had no doubt it was highly illegal, it wasn't what they needed. Her investigator's instincts were begging her to follow, to find out where this dark clad group was going and to crush whatever activity they were engaging in.

  Glowering with frustration, she stayed put. The car never came past her. It turned down the other side road, and she took note of that, because that might be the route they used more often.

  In that case, she’d better be ready to hustle when there was a working girl heading out.

  Her phone buzzed. It was Gabe.

  "Nothing this side. One car went out, but one guy only," he messaged.

  "Nothing here either, yet," she responded.

  Just then, Cora saw someone heading toward that building. It was a woman on foot, and she was walking up to the back door of the building. Staring closely, she thought this was one of the women being used by the organization.

  The woman was dressed in a very short denim skirt and a low-cut top, with a jacket on top to cover up. She had long, curly blonde hair and bright red lipstick. She looked nervous as she knocked on the door and waited for it to be opened, looking around furtively as she did.

  She disappeared inside, and Cora texted Gabe.

  "Woman just gone in. Arriving for a job?"

  She watched the back gate closely.

  A minute later, it swung open again, and another dark sedan drove out.

  In her direction.

  "Coming this way. I’ll take it, you get clear of them now," she texted, intent on the chase. Gabe was a quarter mile away on the other side of the building, and this would need to be her pursuit alone.

  The car stopped at the street. Waited for a stream of traffic to go by. Then it headed up the road toward her, and through the windshield she clearly saw two heads. One dark-haired, stern-faced man at the wheel.

  One blonde, in the passenger seat.

  Which way would it go? Left or right? She started the engine, ready to go, knowing she needed to keep pace with it; this delivery, representing their best and earliest chance, must not get away.

  The sedan turned left, the same route the other car had gone.

  Cora hit the gas, and followed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Louella didn't know what was coming next. But she knew it would be bad. Very bad. She'd seen the eyes of her abductor, though briefly, and she thought maybe more in her nightmares than any real memories. But that implacable expression was lodged in her memory.

  The sense of fear she'd felt had never left her.

  When she'd dared to plead, to bargain, it had been like bargaining with the devil. The same sense of playing with fire, and knowing that whatever she said might make this go either way. Her captor held all the power and could exercise it on a whim or else, more likely, in a fury.

  It was as if she could still hear that threatening, whispered voice in her mind, the weird responses to her begging for clemency.

  No way would she be set free. Never. And she wasn’t going to repent. Repenting would be the worst thing she could possibly do. Then, she was sure, he would kill her.

  But with only water to drink, no food, and living on the edge of her nerves for days now, her strength was bleeding away. She was weak and shaky and she knew that if she didn't make a run for it now, if she didn't try to break free, she never would. Because one way or the other, it would be too late.

  What to do?

  She'd been listening over the past few days and she thought she had an idea of her captor’s comings and goings. The car that was used. It was a pickup, with a loud engine. The silence around her, and the way that engine blurted its sound into the still air, made her think they were out of town, on a homestead or a small farm. Sometimes, in the mornings, she'd heard the faint sound of chickens. Chickens meant a farm, right?

  The captor had gone out now, and from the light she could see through the window's thick, frosted glass, it was getting dark. She must have time. She needed to act! Because she had come up with a plan, and a way to break out. It was risky and desperate, but it was all she had.

  The room was lined with wooden boards, and she hadn't thought she could get through them, but in her days of searching, she'd found there was a weak spot. Right by the door, a section had come loose, perhaps from the door itself being opened and closed. That had worked the wooden board away from the wall and it had allowed her to get a purchase on it with her fingernails.

  She had spent hours tugging at the plank each night, slowly but surely pulling it further away from the wall until it had loosened enough that she could slip her hand through the gap.

  Then, working when she was sure she was alone, and listening out for the sound of voices, she had managed to get her arm through.

  Then, this morning, with a sense of disbelief, she'd reached around and felt the latch that had closed the door. She'd been able to get to it.

  She could unfasten it.

  Her breath had come fast, and the sense of dizziness that had overwhelmed her had almost caused her to faint. She was so, so hungry. She was on the point of being too weak to do this. But she had to try.

  And now was her only chance.

  Summoning all her strength, Louella reached through the gap in the wall and grasped the latch. It was surprisingly cold to the touch, and her fingers shook as she fumbled with it. The fear of being caught, of her captor returning and finding her trying to escape, made her heart race.

  She twisted the latch, and with a soft click, it unlocked. Her breath caught in her throat as she gently pushed the door. It moved slightly, but then caught on something.

  Her heart pounding in her chest, she pushed harder, using all the strength she had left. With a creak, the door slowly swung open.

  Her breath was coming in sobbing gasps now, because she was out; she was free from this prison that had held so much fear and despair. But even so, the danger was just beginning.

  She tried to slow her breathing, her hands quivering, listening for any sounds that might indicate someone was nearby. But all was silent, except for the faint sound of crickets outside.

  There were the stairs, leading up. Wooden stairs, ten of them. She peered out into the darkness, trying to get her bearings. Climbed them on wobbly legs.

 

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