Terminal Threat by R.J. Patterson

Author:R.J. Patterson [Patterson, R.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Terrorism, Thrillers, Action, Espionage
Publisher: Aethon Thrills
Published: 2024-10-08T05:00:00+00:00

Hilton spent the rest of the day mulling over his list of questions for the anonymous informant. But there was one thing that made Hilton uneasy — the proposed meeting place. If it was devoid of security cameras, it was also a prime place to kill someone. He could be shot in the head and dumped into a vehicle. One trip through the baling press, and that would be the end of him. Nobody would find him for years, if ever. And even if they did, his body wouldn’t be identifiable. The thought made him shudder.

He returned to Laney’s apartment to retrieve a knife. If a gunfight erupted, having a knife wouldn’t matter, but at least it was something. Just having the cold steel blade in his pocket didn’t make him feel completely unprepared. Yet at this point, he had to risk meeting the man. Hilton knew he couldn’t drift aimlessly forever. Eventually, the feds would catch up to him. This meeting was his Hail Mary.

They agreed to meet at 10 p.m., long after Washington’s traffic had died down and the darkness provided ample cover. Hilton had told Laney that he was going out to meet a friend for dinner, and told her not to wait up for him. But before she’d returned to her apartment, he’d scrounged up something to eat out of the scant offerings in Laney’s pantry. Another twinge of guilt. He hated lying to anyone, especially Laney. Yet, he had no choice if he wanted to keep her out of his messy business with the FBI.

As he strolled along the sidewalk, he checked over his shoulder to see if he was being followed. Sirens wailed in the distance, the sharp sounds piercing the night and echoing off the surrounding buildings. He quickened his pace, unable to shake the notion that they were coming for him.

Yet nothing.

A piece of paper fluttered across his path, startling him for a moment.

They don’t know where you are, Derrick. Chill out.

Hilton rounded the corner and spotted the entrance to Joe’s Jalopy Yard with a sign detailing the process for admittance. Two bucks to get inside and pull any part you wanted. Then you paid for the part. Everything was sold “as is.” It was a simple business, one with low maintenance that didn’t require much staffing. And apparently, Joe didn’t think he needed security cameras either.

Hilton circled the block and didn’t spot any visible security cameras, giving his informant more credibility.

At least he’s not trying to frame me by getting me to break into this place.

Hilton retraced his steps and found a spot near the corner where the fence looked bent outward. Giving it a tug, Hilton deduced there was enough space for him to slide beneath it. He gave a quick glance around and didn’t see anyone before he dropped to the ground and slithered through the opening.

Once inside, he jumped to his feet, brushed off the dirt, and scanned the area. Spotlights illuminated the junkyard. Rusty cars sat crammed next to one another without enough room to even open the doors.

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