Black Ops 01 Show No Mercy by Cindy Gerard

Author:Cindy Gerard
Language: ru
Format: mobi
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2008-06-05T23:00:00+00:00

14

Buenos Aires

1:05 A.M.

The R&R that Doc had suggested came in the form of a safe house. Jenna had been to safe houses before, had met in secret with protected witnesses in highly volatile federal cases on more than one occasion.

This particular model wasn’t exactly standard fare. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it wasn’t the No Tell Motel, either. What it was, she saw as she took it in through bleary eyes, was a large, mostly empty room in what appeared from the outside to be an abandoned warehouse.

Before she and Gabe had left the cantina, they’d taken quick showers and changed clothes. After Gabe had a short, secretive huddle with Raphael Mendoza, Holliday had driven them no more than ten minutes from their headquarters to this area of the city where he’d dropped them off.

It could have been a hundred miles away given the change of scenery. Here, instead of smelling of stale beer and wine, the streets stank of machine oil and dust. Instead of the colorful stucco walls of the cantina, broken windows outnumbered the ones that were intact in row after row of connected two-to four-story brick and steel buildings.

She suspected that come daylight, the area would be hopping with trucks transporting whatever was stored in the dozens of structures in various states of disrepair surrounding the building she and Gabe had just entered.

The slam of the heavy metal door echoed through the warehouse as Gabe closed it behind them. Then they entered an elevator with a galvanized metal grate door that hummed eerily in the heavy silence of the night as it delivered them to the third floor.

Gabe, carrying a duffle that she’d heard him refer to as his “go bag,” was also silent as he let them inside a large, cavernous room. He threw a dead bolt behind them then set what she assumed was a keypad alarm on the wall just inside the door.

She tossed her own bag onto one of two folding chairs that flanked a rickety card table. The guys had magnanimously given her back her purse, which now contained the sum total of her possessions. Notably absent was her BlackBerry. Even if she wanted to contact Hank and file a story, they’d made sure she couldn’t, which told her they wanted to keep what was happening under wraps. At the moment, she didn’t have it in her to wonder why.

God, she was weary. As weary as this room. By the light of a single dim bulb hanging from a bare wire in the center of the twenty-by-twenty or so space, she made a quick assessment of their new digs.

The floor was concrete. The walls cement block. The ceiling was corrugated tin and metal rafters. None of them had ever seen a paintbrush. The only window was high and square and intact only because of the mesh wire reinforcing the glass panes. Hanging twenty feet above it was a rickety-looking metal ladder the purpose of which she could only speculate. Fire escape? Escape route?

She didn’t want to dwell on either possibility.

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