From Manhattan with Revenge (The Fourth Book in the Fifth Avenue Series) (22 page)

Another door opened. More light cut into
the room. She took a breath and knew she had no choice. Taking out the guard
and the breaker box was only the first part of her plan. Now, for the second
part.

Before they could fully see her, Chloe
Philips stood, aimed her gun at the hood of one of the cars glimmering in the
light, and fired a bullet into it.

Sirens went off. The jolt of the gun
almost caused her to blackout due to the pain in her drooping shoulder. She
staggered back against a wall and braced her shoulder against it for support.
She wanted to cry out in pain, but didn’t.

“What the fuck are you doing?” the Russian
shouted above the car’s alarm. She heard real fear in his voice. Did he love
his cars that much? Or was it the alarm that worried him? “Do it again and I’ll
kill you myself.”

She turned to another car, aimed at it,
and shot, destroying the hood and likely a good deal of the engine, which would
kill the car’s value and be difficult to repair.

“You want more?” she said, above the
screams of the two alarms.

“She’s at the front,” she heard the
Russian say. “Get her.”

She couldn’t hear them moving given the
sound of the alarms, but she was sure one of them was rushing in her direction.

Go for it. All of it. Show
them that you’re serious.

Chloe sank a bullet into the hood of
another car, but this time she missed and smashed out the car’s front window,
which caused its alarm to go off. She steadied her aim as best she could, shot
again and this time struck gold. She hit the hood, a small fire erupted beneath
it, and it started to smoke and bake from the heat. If she was thinking it,
they were thinking it. If they didn’t act fast, the car would explode.

“Keep the fuck away from me!” she shouted.
“Come closer and I’ll ruin all of your precious cars!”

“Quick,” she heard the Russian say. “The
fire extinguisher. Put out the fire before the sprinklers go off. You know what
will happen if they do.”

Chloe also knew what would happen. If the
sprinkler system went off, the fire department would be notified. St. Vincent’s
had a sprinkler system. They also had an evacuation plan. She and the others
were told what to do and where to meet outside should the fire alarm and the
sprinkler system go off. They were told that the fire department and the police
would automatically be alerted if either went off. The idea of the sprinklers
going off here and the ramifications for these men if they did gave her an
unexpected rush of power.

But her power didn’t rest just there.
There was something to be said for those shrieking alarms.

How many cars did she have to shoot before
the alarms created such a commotion that someone called the police, if only to
stop the noise, assuming it was bothering someone? From the address she heard
earlier, she knew she wasn’t in a residential neighborhood. Also against her is
that she didn’t know what time it was. Was is light out? Were there any
businesses open? She didn’t know. And what about the people driving by on the
street? Could they hear the alarms? If they could, would someone make a call?

She knew better than that.

Still, the alarms were something. They
were better than nothing. They were a possible way out, just like the sprinkler
system was should it go off and alert the fire and police departments. She had
to use whatever tools she had to get out of here and those alarms could be key.

She looked around the space, her shoulder
aching. The sound from three cars already was at a piercing level, but they
were at the rear of the warehouse, away from the two large doors at her left,
which faced the street. Did it make a difference that the cars she shot were so
far away from those doors? She squinted through the dim light and looked at the
car closest to the doors. She wondered. She thought it through.

She didn’t know how many bullets she had
left, but she assumed she had some left. She knew nothing about guns, but she
did know that what she held in her hand looked sophisticated. Like something
she’d see in an action movie. She needed to use her ammunition sparingly, but
this might be worth it.

She braced her shoulder against the
concrete wall she was leaning against, aimed and shot the hood of the car
across from her. Again she missed and hit the window, but it was enough to set
off the alarm, which was so much louder here, it gave her hope.

The Russian shouted something. She could
see them using the fire extinguisher to put out the fire beneath the hood,
which now was lifted high and being gassed by the other guard, Michael. She looked
up at the ceiling and wondered why the sprinklers hadn’t gone off. There wasn’t
a great deal of smoke, but there certainly was enough to set them off. So, why
hadn’t they gone off? The warehouse was old. Were the systems old?

Did the sprinklers even work?

CHAPTER TW
ENTY-EIGHT

In the cab they snagged on Park, they
drove across Central Park, down to West Forty-Seventh Street, stopped for a
traffic light, and turned left onto Eleventh Avenue.

It was dark. Given their proximity to the
Hudson, the air here was cooler, but it also was humid. Worse, it was soured by
a day’s worth of exhaust from the shipping trucks that clogged the streets
during the daytime, the smell of oil from the barges crowding the river and the
filth that was everywhere.

On West Forty-Sixth, they saw the
warehouse ahead of them and to their left, heard the sirens screaming from
inside the building, and drove past as Carmen lifted a hand to her face out of
concern for Chloe.

Whatever was happening inside was either
just beginning or, knowing Katzev, who was quick to act, might already be over.
Not knowing unnerved Carmen so much that she did what she always did when she
was under great pressure. She shut down her emotions and became focused on the
task at hand.

Spocatti told the driver to circle around
again, but this time to let them off at Eleventh Avenue. Each wanted to
carefully scope the area before they approached the warehouse.

“Why the sirens?” she asked.

“No idea.”

“Obviously, something happened. The sirens
will draw attention to them. Somebody might have called the police.”

“If we were on Eighth or Ninth, where
people live, I’d agree. But down here? It’s different. Industrial. Because of
the crime, no one is on the streets. There’s a chance no one has called the
police.”

“And if they have?”

He shrugged. “Then we’re fucked.” He let a
silence pass. “You know we were followed?”

“I do.”

“Babe is with him. That’s unprecedented.”

“We can’t control them,” Carmen said. “If
they want to park and grab Chloe if we manage to free her, fine. And frankly,
even though we disagree on this, if they can, they’ll keep her safe, which is a
relief to me. If they involve themselves otherwise, we’ll deal with them then.”

Spocatti didn’t answer. He looked over his
shoulder as Jake’s car, some two hundred yards back, slid into a spot that
wasn’t a parking space. A hydrant was there. They were perhaps eight buildings
up from the warehouse with a clear view of the two large garage doors that faced
it.

Carmen’s cell phone buzzed in her pants
pocket. She removed it, stared at the message for a moment, committed it to
memory, and then, acting on instinct because she didn’t want to share it with
Spocatti, who was acting unusual for reasons she didn’t understand, set things
into motion with a few quick clicks.

“What was that?” he asked.

“That was private,” she said. She
regretted the edge in her voice—he was, after all, here to help
her—and said, “Sorry. I’m just tense. It was an offer for a new job.”

“From the syndicate?”

She was in no mood to joke. She didn’t
answer.

He put his hand on her knee, a kind
gesture that also was unlike him. “It’ll be all right, Carmen. Katzev won’t
take my threat lightly. We just need to get in there in case someone does call
the police.”

“If they haven’t already.”

“Understood.”

The driver pulled to the curb.

“With those sirens going off, we don’t
know what we’re walking into.”

“When do we ever know?” He opened his door
and gave the driver five hundred dollars. “That’s for your discretion,” he
said.

The man looked at the money and casually
pocketed it. “Not sure what you’re talking about, man, but thanks.”

Spocatti stepped out and looked at Carmen.
He was about to say that they needed to get inside when, for the first time, he
noticed them. “You’re wearing those?” he asked.

“I always wear these, just not on planes.”

“Do they still work?”

She showed him.

“Rosa Klebb would be proud, though she’d
miss the knitting needles. How long does it take?”

“Twelve seconds.”

“Ugly way to die.”

“He shouldn’t have snatched my girl.”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers. “You
plan on using them?”

“If I have the chance.”

“And you plan to sacrifice yourself for
Chloe? You really mean to do this?”

“If it comes to that, I will. But have you
forgotten? You threatened Katzev. A moment ago, when you told Jake that he
wouldn’t be joining us, you essentially said your threat would be enough to put
the fear of God in Katzev if anything happens to us. Beyond that, I have Liam in
Aberdeen and he will slaughter Katzev’s family with a press of a button on my
cell. I plan on using that against, Katzev. We’ll see how loyal he is to his
mother, who will die first. I’m not going out without a fight, Vincent. So,
let’s get this over with.”

CHAPTER TWE
NTY-NINE

“I see them,” Jake said. “They’re coming
around the corner. Spocatti has his cell in his hand. Now at his ear.”

Babe craned her head so it was closer to
the passenger-side window. The street was dim but with some effort, she could
see them. “He must be calling Katzev.”

“Likely.”

“To get inside.”

“Obviously.”

“I’m concerned about the alarm.”

“Everyone should be.”

“What do you think happened?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been forced out of the
loop on this. No idea. I hope they can handle it on their own.”

The clipped tone of Jake’s voice made Babe
McAdoo turn to look at him. As dim as it was in the car, she could see him
watching Carmen and Spocatti intently. Though his features were neutral, she
sensed anger brimming beneath the surface. In her life, she’d dealt with too
many men and women in this profession to take that anger lightly. He felt
slighted. Could he contain those feelings? If not, what then? She chose her
words carefully. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said.

“You don’t know what I feel, Babe.”

She offered nothing more. Best to back
off, though tension in the car was high. She turned to the window and noticed
that Spocatti and Carmen were standing outside one of the garage doors.
Spocatti was on his cell, talking. Carmen was a step behind him, looking up and
down the street, and also up at the windows of the buildings surrounding them.
A sniper could be in one of them. Her hands were buried in her jacket pockets,
gripping her Glocks should she need them.

When the shrill of the alarm began to
lessen, Babe rolled down her window an inch and listened. Earlier, she assumed
it was just one alarm going off. Instead, it was several alarms, which now were
being turned off one by one.
 

“Do you hear that?” Babe asked. “I thought
it was just the alarm for the warehouse. But listen. A number of alarms are
going off. Or were going off. Like car alarms. He must have cars in there.”

When he replied, it was as if he was
speaking to a child. “That’s right, Babe. They were car alarms. If it had been
an alarm for the warehouse, knowing Katzev, it would have been silent and gone
straight to the syndicate, which would have deployed a small army comprised of
those assassins not considered end-of-cycle. I don’t know what set off the
alarms or what’s happening in there now, but Katzev obviously found his keys
and is shutting them down now.”

He didn’t even try to conceal the chill in
his voice. She knew he was angry that he wasn’t asked to join Carmen and
Vincent since he himself had been targeted by the syndicate, so she sat there,
watching the warehouse, until the final alarm was silenced. After a moment, one
of the garage doors lifted and they were allowed inside an entrance that was in
pitch darkness. She tried to see if anyone was there to greet them, but it was
too dark to see. The garage door slid shut behind them and they were gone.

“They’re in there now,” she said, more to
herself than to him. She was worried for them.