Green Light (Sam Archer 7) (43 page)

The
shotgun was one he’d lifted a while ago from the Precinct’s
lock-up, as well as the grenade, after the blackmail had started;
already trying to track down who was working him at that point, he
wanted weapons that could never be traced back to him in case he
struck gold and could put moves on his blackmailers.

Retrieving them from his home and arming up, he’d parked
outside the docks and stolen in through the gate. He’d heard Archer
and Karen’s entire conversation and now understood what was going
on. Apparently Henderson and Tully were dead, he could finish off
Archer shortly, which left Karen Casey and the cops who’d just
arrived.

After
months of misery, he was finally going to finish this.

Inside
the Ford, Marquez and Palmer had caught sight of the explosion,
watching Archer go down, and could now see him lying unmoving on
the concrete. Marquez had also seen Royston limping into a
warehouse to her right after being shot in the leg by Karen
Casey.

That
call Palmer received had been from Polaris telling her that two
girls in Pittsburgh had been arrested for prostitution last night,
working a street-corner. Their English had been poor, but they’d
understood the threat of deportation, and with an interpreter
brought in, one of them had opened up. Apparently they were both
from Moscow and had been trafficked through the South Side docks,
then forced to work in the city as high-end prostitutes for a
blonde woman called Karen, who’d suddenly disappeared without
warning at the end of last year. The cops had put a search out for
the name and contacted Polaris to check their records; one of
Palmer’s colleagues in Pittsburgh who’d already checked out Leann
Casey’s history at Theresa’s request took the call, saw the timings
and worked on a hunch. He sent over Karen Casey’s DMV photo, asking
the police to run it past the two women. Apparently they’d both
immediately identified her as the woman who’d run the escort ring
they’d been forced to join.

Marquez
had called the Bureau to pass on in the information, when Ethan
told her Archer was following Karen Casey to the docks.

Ripping
open her door, she started to run towards Archer then realised
Palmer was following her.

‘
Get back inside!
’ she ordered,
pointing towards the car.
‘And stay
down!’

Reluctantly Palmer turned back, but not before glancing
worriedly at Archer lying unmoving on the ground.

‘
Is he alright?’
she
called.

Not
bothering to answer, Marquez arrived by her team-mate and saw he
wasn’t moving, blood running down his neck.

‘
Arch,’ she said, kneeling down and checking for a pulse.
‘Arch?’

He
didn’t respond.

Pushing
him over gently, she saw he was out cold; she felt for a pulse
again and was relieved to feel it under her fingers, constant and
strong.

Looking
down at her colleague for a moment, unwilling to leave him lying
there, Marquez suddenly heard a gunshot from inside the
warehouse.

She had
to make a choice.

Looking
down at Archer again and knowing he’d make the same decision, she
turned him onto his side then rose and made her way quickly towards
the warehouse, the lapping of the East River waves filling the
silence behind her.

FIFTY ONE

Inside
the warehouse, Karen darted behind a container, just avoiding a
second shotgun blast from Royston. As the sound reverberated around
the hangar, she ran down the aisle, ducking around the corner then
listened, training her weapon on the gap as she waited for Royston
to appear.

She’d
seen Archer go down, but she’d also seen the Ford arrive and knew
more police officers would be here any minute. Weighing up her
options, she quickly checked her surroundings. A large truck was
parked across the warehouse, a beer company logo painted on the
side, the vehicle she, Henderson and Tully were going to use to get
out of the city. It was too slow though, weighed down with
cargo.

The
warehouse seemed to be a holding area for metal pipes, stacks of
them piled neatly around her, several on a metal forklift waiting
to be moved outside and onto waiting ships.

Looking
at the aisles, she saw the pipes were held in place by plastic
binding straps, several for each stack.

And
beside her, the forklift still had the keys in the
ignition.

Stalking
between the tall corridors created by the stacked pipes, Marquez
was moving silently, holding her pistol double-handed. The noise of
the city was muted in here, the only sound a quiet whisper of wind
through the large space.

From
what Ethan had hurriedly told her, she now knew that Karen and
Royston had fed information to the Russians, helping them put moves
on the families of Shepherd’s team, resulting in Michelle getting
shot. Apparently, having failed to get Archer killed in prison,
they’d arranged to finish the job at his apartment. And these two
had been responsible for Vargas being lye-bathed. That made this
more than personal.

Pausing,
she stopped and listened, the place silent.

Suddenly
she heard the sound of an engine bursting into life.

Spinning
round, trying to locate it, she heard something smash into the
other side of the aisle on her right. Looking up, she saw the
entire column above her start to rock.

Then there was a
ping
of metal on metal as the furthermost wrap holding
a stack of pipes on the rack above her suddenly gave
way.

Now free
from one side, the pipes started to tilt, their weight causing the
other straps to snap one after the other. Turning and running as
fast as she could, Marquez sprinted for the end of the corridor and
threw herself out of the aisle just as scores of pipes clattered to
the ground behind her.

The
sound ringing in her ears and echoing around the warehouse, Marquez
went to rise.

But then
found herself looking at a pair of feet.

Looking
up, she saw Royston standing over her, his shotgun aimed straight
at her head. She froze as she stared down the barrel and he racked
the pump, a shell jumping out of the Mossberg.

‘
You should have stayed out of this, bitch,’ he told her, his
finger tightening on the trigger.

‘
So should’ve you,’ a voice suddenly said from behind
him.

As
Royston swung round, Josh fired twice, putting two bullets in his
chest, the Lieutenant dead before he hit the ground. The gunshots
from the Sig echoed around the warehouse then faded away. Staring
at Josh in surprise and relief, Marquez took his hand as he helped
her back up.

‘
You OK?’ he asked.

She
nodded quickly. ‘How did you know?’

‘
Arch called and told me on his way over. I just got here.
Where is he?’

Before
Marquez could reply, the pair heard a noise near the door and
turned, snapping up their weapons.

Royston
was down but Karen was still out there somewhere.

Back on
the concrete dock-front, Archer opened his eyes.

His neck
was wet; reaching up to touch it, he saw blood on his fingers. He
vaguely remembered the grenade exploding and guessed something must
have sliced him open. His clothing was hot from the blast, smoke on
his face, blood on his hands and wrists from the broken zip-ties,
the cuts on his chest and arm from the prison shower fight opened
up once again.

The
concrete was cold and unforgiving under him. He tried to sit up but
his body wouldn’t obey, his vision blurry.

Glancing
to his left, he saw his gun, resting on the concrete.

Get up, Archer.

Gritting
his teeth, he managed to push himself up into a seated position,
the waves hitting the dock-front wall behind him.

He shook
his head, trying to rid himself of the nausea and dizziness washing
over him, focusing on the pistol lying there by his
hand.

He
reached forward, curling his hands around the grip.

Get up.

Moving
through the warehouse with Marquez, Josh couldn’t see any sign of
Karen.

But then
ahead of them through the door they both caught a glimpse of
movement outside, Karen heading for the police Ford Marquez had
arrived in. Pistol in hand, she was moving fast straight towards
Palmer, who hadn’t seen her. Theresa was on the phone and had her
back to Karen, facing away from her as she spoke.

‘
Oh shit!’ he hissed.

Stalking
towards the unsuspecting social worker, Karen lifted her pistol as
she drew nearer. With cops on her tail, she’d need a
hostage.

‘
Theresa!’
Josh suddenly warned from
the warehouse doorway.

Karen
spun round, firing at the two cops with her silenced pistol, the
pair ducking back behind the cover of the hangar. Swinging back
towards the police Ford, she suddenly froze in
disbelief.

The
blonde social worker was now facing her.

And she
was holding a pistol aimed directly at Karen’s head.

FIFTY TWO

As Josh
and Marquez snapped out from behind the warehouse door, ready to
drop Karen Casey and protect the social worker, they saw Palmer
shoot Karen between the eyes. Thirty yards away, they froze in
stunned disbelief at what they’d just witnessed as Karen’s body hit
the ground.

Without
hesitation Palmer switched her aim and fired twice more, dropping
them both, hitting Josh in the chest and Marquez in the leg. As the
sound of the shots faded she walked slowly towards the two
detectives, her pistol trained on them as she loosened the buttons
on her jacket with her other hand.

She
kicked their guns away then stood over the pair, watching as Josh
tried to breathe and Marquez clutched the wound to her
thigh.

‘
Theresa?’ Josh grunted.

‘
She was the last one,’ Palmer said, jerking her head back in
Karen’s direction.

‘
What the hell are you talking about?’ Josh managed to get
out.

Palmer
smiled. ‘You know what the prison guards back in Russia did in the
1940s when the gangs fought each other?’

She
paused for a moment, looking down at the two detectives who were
staring at her blankly.

‘
Nothing. They let them kill each other and stepped in when
there were only a few left standing.’

Behind
her was a flash of headlights at the gate as another van entered
the yard, pulling to a halt twenty feet away. A beat later four men
stepped out, two of them starting to walk towards the
group.

Watching
them approach, Marquez stared in confusion.

They
were the doormen from the Little Odessa nightclub.

Looking
at the other two she recognised the third man as an officer who’d
arrived as back-up after they’d found Santiago’s body. And the
fourth was a CSU photographer who’d been present at Nina Lister’s
crime-scene all those hours ago.

All of
them looked very different now, dressed in dark clothing, automatic
weapons in their hands. She switched her gaze back to the social
worker, trying to breathe through the pain from her gunshot
wound.

‘
Our organisation has wanted that piece of Little Odessa for
years,’ Palmer explained, smiling down at the two injured police
detectives. ‘It’s prime real estate for those of us involved in the
trafficking trade, but the
Prizraki
were always too powerful. However, our bosses
decided to make a push at the end of last year; I capped off their
top guy, put a bullet between his eyes with a rifle after he was
driven home one night. They replaced him of course, as we expected,
but it shook them up. Then just as we were planning our next move
Henderson, Tully and Lister suddenly appeared. They might have
been
Suki
, but
they did a great job; saved us a world of work.’

‘
You’re
Volki,
’ Marquez coughed. ‘Chechen Mafia.’

She nodded. ‘We’ve been watching you all night, trying to keep
you focused on the missing women and give our
Suki
friends time to finish off
the
Prizraki
.
Which they did admirably.’

She glanced over her shoulder and nodded at the two men by the
van. One of them dragged open the sliding door, revealing metal
barrels stacked inside.
Ether
was printed on the chemical stamp, along with a
flame warning due to the highly-flammable contents. The pair each
took out a single barrel and walked towards Palmer, Josh, Marquez
and the other two
Volki
members
.

‘
The Russians have had that piece of the Beach for decades,’
Palmer explained. ‘You can’t just walk in and take it over. We’ve
been watching and waiting for an opportunity for almost eight
years; we got jobs under fake identities, we became pillars of the
community. All funded by our people back home.’