Blown (18 page)

T
welve Hours Later

Newark Shipping Terminals

Newark, New Jersey

K
aplan followed
Angelo DeLuca to a worn-down warehouse inside the Newark shipping terminal complex. The old Quonset hut style warehouse was a long, semi-circular cross-sectioned structure with windows near the apex lending the appearance of a possible upper level on the inside. Rust had metastasized on the exterior walls through years of neglect and had mottled the once painted surface.

There was a barrage of background noise at the shipping terminal, from jet engines at the adjacent Newark International Airport to the incessant banging and clanging of the never ending loading and unloading of containers from the twenty-four hour stream of cargo ships using the port's facilities.

The weather had cleared on the drive from Virginia to Newark and the northern sky was cloudless. As darkness descended, the glow from the surrounding mass of bright urban lights gave the shipping terminal a stereotypical appearance. Trucks carried cargo into the port where intermodal transfer cranes loaded the containers from truck to ship. There was a steady flow of vehicles entering and leaving the shipping terminal complex.

From his vantage point, Kaplan saw the lights on Liberty Island illuminating the Statue of Liberty. Behind it, Ellis Island, Governors Island, and the glow of Battery Park and Lower Manhattan. Farther across the Hudson River, the western shore of Brooklyn seemed closer than it actually was as ships moved in and out of Bush Terminal.

Earlier, Kaplan had called in the location to his handler who verified the warehouse belonged to a shell corporation he painstakingly traced back to a holding company owned by one of Martin Scalini's international investors.

While Moss updated Hepler, Kaplan scouted the perimeter and made his initial assessment of the warehouse before returning to the Mercedes.

The warehouse was a two-story building with upstairs and downstairs rear fire escapes, each door directly above or below the other. All other exits—two truck sized loading and unloading doors and one entrance door—faced the main entrance road to the shipping terminal.

When he and Moss first arrived in Newark, the highways were congested with traffic as if it were rush hour. Thousands of taxis and commuters clogged the roadways. Impatient motorists honked their horns and gave hand gestures expressing their displeasure. The app Kaplan installed on Moss's smart phone displayed the navigation track DeLuca took to the warehouse. It made it unnecessary for Kaplan to keep visual contact with the silver Buick LaCrosse through the maze of surface streets leading to the shipping terminal.

As Kaplan pulled the Mercedes into the complex, Moss spotted DeLuca's vehicle pulling through one of the warehouse loading doors. The door pulled closed and two men were stationed outside. Kaplan followed a truck down the main entrance road, past the warehouse, before selectively parking the Mercedes on a side street in the shadow of a larger warehouse, which provided him with two things, a visual of both the warehouse and access road and a place to conceal the vehicle in a darkened alley.

Moss looked worried as Kaplan got back in the car. "If Scalini was already in there waiting, he won't waste much time going to work on Tony."

"Scalini's not here yet," Kaplan said.

"How do you know?"

"I checked. There is an upstairs fire escape with a row of windows overlooking the inside of the warehouse. DeLuca's car is the only one inside. These thugs have another car parked around back. Scalini won't risk exposure walking in or out of the warehouse. He'll drive in and drive out in the back of his limo. In addition to the two men who picked up Tony in Lexington, I saw one man keeping watch inside. Upstairs there is a catwalk balcony allowing him to overlook almost the entire warehouse floor below. And he's packing heavy. Looks like a silenced Uzi strapped over his shoulder. I saw a couple of rooms upstairs as well. As far as I could tell, there really isn't anything located on ground level except open floor space cluttered with crates, boxes, and metal drums. Tony has to be in one of the rooms upstairs. Both rear exits have metal doors. Bolted shut from the inside. Looks like the only way to get in is through the front door."

Moss pointed to the front of the warehouse. "Those two look like trouble. They're packing heavy too."

"There's a wino living in a box across the street," Kaplan said.

"Yeah?" Moss said. "So your plan is to see if the drunk will stagger over and ask them to let us in?"

Kaplan didn't answer. He turned around in his seat and grabbed his backpack. He pulled out two handguns, both with sound suppressors, and two wireless comm sets. "We'll need these." He held up the handguns. "Got clean ones at the B & B. Untraceable."

"You know, Kaplan, we're getting mighty close to the limit of the law."

Kaplan studied the man for a few seconds. Moss thinks too much like a cop. Sometimes laws have to be broken…or at least seriously stretched. "Inspector, before this night is over we might very well cross that line."

Moss pointed toward the complex entrance as a black Cadillac rolled down the main road. "We got company. I thought your plan was to have us in position
before
Scalini arrived."

"It was."

"Well, we're not," said Moss.

"Scalini's early."

Moss turned to Kaplan. "This is not only going to cost me a witness but a career as well. And it might land my ass in jail. Your plan just keeps getting worse."

"Relax," Kaplan reassured. "It'll work."

Kaplan knew the plan was risky. If Moss had known how risky, he was sure the inspector would never have agreed to it. And he knew Tony wouldn't have gone along with it either. But it was too late to back out now.

The limo pulled to the loading door. A heavy-tinted window rolled down and one of the guards leaned over and spoke. The window rolled up. He saw the other guard lift up the retractable door on the building. The Cadillac drove in and the guard immediately closed the metal door behind it.

"Looks like the clock just started ticking," said Kaplan.

"Just started ticking?" Moss's voice sounded agitated. "The clock started ticking the moment I agreed to let you hand Tony over to those two goons. I can't believe I went along with your harebrained scheme. What was I thinking? We need to call for backup."

"Don't chicken out now." Kaplan stared into Moss's eyes. "We can do this. I've been in situations a lot worse where the odds were stacked against me far more than this. We need to move quickly and not hesitate. Hesitation kills."

Moss looked at his watch. "How long should we wait?"

"We need to move now," Kaplan said. "Or else your witness dies."

S
enior Inspector Pete Moss
watched and listened as the wino staggered toward the two men guarding the warehouse entrance. He wore a dirty brown trench coat and a longshoreman's cap with a hole in it. In his left hand he carried a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag.

"Beat it," one of the guards said. He stepped forward holding up his hand like a traffic cop.

The wino kept staggering toward them.

Based on Kaplan's reconnaissance, Moss calculated there were at least five of Scalini's men inside and now, Martin Scalini himself. Kaplan had counted one man already inside plus Angelo DeLuca and his companion, Bruno the Rat. Then he had to account for the limo driver and one other. And of course, the two men at the entrance. Best case scenario—eight against two. He hoped Gregg Kaplan was as good as Tony said he was during the interview in the
quiet room
.

"Are you deaf or just plain stupid?" the other man said. "Don't make trouble for yourself. Translation…beat it or I'm going to put a bullet in your head." He turned to his buddy and laughed.

The wino stopped less than ten feet from the men and placed his bottle on the ground. He swayed as he said something to the men. The wino turned, faced the building, and unzipped his pants as he prepared to urinate. Both men pulled their guns and rushed to stop him.

The wino attacked with lightning speed. He grabbed the gun barrel of the first man with his left hand pulling the guard closer as his right hand smashed into the man's neck. The man gasped and clutched his windpipe as the wino delivered a knockout blow to the man's head. The guard slumped toward the wino and fell to the ground.

The second man never had a chance. He hesitated, stunned, as his friend fell to the ground. And in that moment of hesitation, the wino delivered a roundhouse kick to the man's head. The second man crumpled to the ground. The wino grabbed both men by the collars and dragged them around the side of the warehouse.

When he returned, he wasn't wearing the overcoat or the longshoreman's cap.

Gregg Kaplan gave Moss the all-clear signal.

Tony was right, Moss thought, Gregg Kaplan was a machine. Perhaps the best he'd ever seen. Certainly the fastest. A dangerous man. His brutal combat martial arts skills made Moss glad he was on his side.

K
aplan had placed
the unconscious guards in the shadows against the dark side of the warehouse. He flex-cuffed and gagged both men and laid them side-by-side. He poured the five-dollar wine he'd paid fifty dollars for over their bloody faces and dropped the bottle between them. He removed the tattered overcoat he'd paid the homeless man a hundred bucks for and draped it over them.

He motioned for Moss to join him.

When Moss arrived, he handed him one of the weapons he'd taken from the men he'd just immobilized. "Here."

"Uzis," Moss said. "Just like the guy inside?"

"Yep."

After watching you handle those two." Moss motioned with his head. "I'm not sure we'll need reinforcements after all."

"I only need one thing from you Moss." Kaplan said. "I need to know you got my back."

Moss smiled and held up his Uzi. "A hundred percent."

"Good to know. This won't be easy. When we go through that door, you can't think like a cop. From here on out, this is self-preservation. If you hesitate, you're dead. We're dead. It's kill or be killed."

T
he front doorway
to the warehouse opened beneath a wooden catwalk overlooking the unlit warehouse floor. On the upper level behind the catwalk was a suite of offices or rooms, or something, which occupied roughly a third of the warehouse's footprint and was built at the waterfront end of the mammoth-sized building. The only light inside the warehouse emanated from those rooms. The dim warehouse provided Kaplan and Moss better cover.

Kaplan looked up and saw a man through the spaces in the catwalk. He gestured to Moss, his finger over his lips and then pointed toward the man above.

Moss nodded.

The black Cadillac limo was parked next to the silver Buick and both bumpers were right in front of a wooden staircase leading to the rooms upstairs.

Kaplan took in his surroundings. The floor was covered in sawdust, probably used to absorb spills from the contents of the dozens of metal drums, some with transfer pumps, crates, and wooden boxes that occupied most of the warehouse floor beneath the upstairs offices. Bending low to his knees, he moved silently, inspecting each item while remaining mindful of the guard overhead. There were oil drums and solvent drums with chemical labels he'd never seen before, and some he had, including lead azide, a highly volatile explosive and one he'd used before to set off an explosion at a factory outside of Moscow. At the opposite end of the warehouse he noticed a large fuel tank he assumed was filled with diesel or gasoline.

He and Moss had just invaded a powder keg.

His first order of business was to disable the guard on the catwalk without alerting the others in the rooms upstairs. He gave hand signals to Moss who understood and took up position under the stairs.

Kaplan found a wooden support column beneath the midway point of the catwalk and shimmied up as far as he could without exposing his presence to the man above. He pulled out his knife and clenched it between his teeth. When he was in position he gave Moss a nod—there was no turning back now.

I
n the beginning
, Moss was skeptical of Kaplan's plan, but now that he'd seen the CIA operative in action, he was confident Kaplan had the skills to pull it off. The guard pacing above Kaplan on the catwalk was armed but not very attentive, which gave Kaplan the upper hand. The man walked back and forth with his Uzi strap draped over his shoulder and his hands in his pockets.

After they had entered the warehouse and made a quick and silent recon, Kaplan grabbed two small bolts on top of a solvent drum, placed the greasy metal objects in Moss's palm, and used hand signals to relay instructions to him. Kaplan laid out his plan to him and then climbed a wooden pole that served as a support column for the wooden catwalk above.

Moss positioned himself beneath the wooden steps leading to the upper level and awaited Kaplan's signal, which came as soon as Moss crouched into position.

Moss took the first bolt, gauged the strength he'd need to hit his target, wound up his arm, and tossed the lightweight object with just enough speed to tumble across the floor and rest against the far wall. The metal bolt bounced unexpectedly and clanged against a metal drum. Kaplan shot him a stern look. The distraction worked, though. The startled man turned and moved swiftly toward the end of the catwalk.

Kaplan started to pull himself over the rail then ducked back down as a voice from inside a room yelled out, "Paulie, you okay out there?"

A man stepped out onto the catwalk. The guard turned around and said, "I'm fine, Joey. Heard something downstairs. Guess I better check it out."

"Probably just a wharf rat. They're all over this filthy place."

"Better check it out anyway," said Paulie.

"Yeah? You think Frankie and Dominic let somebody inside or something?"

Paulie hesitated and then said in a shamed voice, "I guess you're right. Nobody's getting past those two. Like you said, Joey, probably just a rat."

Joey went back inside the upstairs room he came from and Paulie went back to mindlessly pacing the catwalk with his silenced Uzi once again strapped over his shoulder and his hands in his front pockets.

Beads of sweat rolled down Moss's bald head, stinging his eyes. He waited for another nod, which again came too fast for his own comfort and this time with another hand signal to toss the next bolt softer. Moss stretched his arm back and pitched the bolt lower and with less force. It grazed against a wooden crate as it tumbled across the sawdust covered concrete floor.

Paulie turned, walked to the end of the catwalk, and leaned over the railing. He aimed his Uzi down at the noise and pretended to shoot at the fictitious rat. "Damn wharf rats," he muttered under his breath.

Kaplan swiftly hoisted himself over the railing and charged down the walkway with speed and agility. The man was unprepared for Kaplan's surprise attack.

Moss was amazed at how fast Kaplan disabled the threat. The CIA operative collared Paulie from behind, cupped his hand over the man's mouth, and smashed the butt of his gun with exact precision against Paulie's head. Moss expected to hear some noise, but none came as Kaplan slowly lowered the unconscious man to the catwalk planking. Within a minute, Paulie lay flex-cuffed and gagged.

K
aplan motioned
for Moss to move to the base of the stairs while he crawled on his hands and knees beneath the windows lining the catwalk. He was vulnerable and wanted someone keeping watch with a gun in case Joey came out to check on Paulie again while he made the thirty-foot crawl beneath the span of windows.

When he reached the end of the catwalk near the staircase, Kaplan checked around the corner and noticed an open and empty foyer with a desk and four cheap red vinyl-covered chairs. They looked like throwbacks from the 70's. Between two chairs on the back wall was an emergency exit door. One he already knew was locked from the inside. The third wall had two doors and what appeared to be a hallway leading deeper into the upstairs space, maybe to bathrooms or other offices.

Kaplan signaled to Moss the all clear. Moss moved up the steps as he kept his eyes fixed on the open foyer above him.

Three steps from the landing, Moss stepped on a loose plank that rocked forward under his heavy foot. He froze and looked at Kaplan who had instinctively hunched at the sound and turned toward Moss. A frozen look of terror filled the big WitSec deputy's wide eyes, but he wasn't looking at Kaplan.

Kaplan turned and saw four gun barrels.

Two pointing at Moss and two pointing at him.