“Looks deserted.”
“The perfect place to run an illegal smuggling operation.”
“One way to find out.”
Taking her hand, Madrid looked both ways, then
sprinted toward the
Dorian Rae
. Jess found herself dragged into a dead run. The ship loomed as large as a mountain as they drew closer. Ropes as thick as a man’s arm were secured to giant cleats set into concrete. She could hear waves slapping against the concrete piers. The massive vessel groaned like a ghost ship trying to free itself from its moorings.
They crossed to a primitive elevator used by shipping and U.S. Customs personnel, but the steel grid door was secured with a chain and padlock.
“What now?” Jess said.
“Piece of cake.” Madrid dropped to his knees and dug into the duffel for the bolt cutters.
The chain snapped and clattered to the concrete. Giving her a look over his shoulder, Madrid slid open the door and stepped onto the platform. Fabricated with plywood and steel grid, the elevator had the appearance of being thrown together by less than talented construction workers. The only thing even remotely modern about it was the glowing Up button next to the door.
“Going up,” Madrid muttered, and hit the button.
The car jolted and began its upward ascent. The wind whistled through the steel grid as the car climbed.
“What if someone sees us going up?” she asked.
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”
She was about to respond when a bell chimed and the elevator car jerked to a stop. When the door slid open, Jess started to move out of the car, but Madrid stopped her and went first. The elevator had opened onto a wide deck. Dead ahead, a dozen massive con
tainers were stacked like giant toys. To Jess’s left stood a building of sorts that soared another thirty feet into the night sky.
“Where are we?” she asked.
He looked around, then up. “I’d say we’re standing just in front of the aft deckhouse.”
A shudder moved through her as she looked around. Rusty and dilapidated, the ship looked as though it hadn’t been used in a very long time. “This place gives me the creeps.”
“Especially if you think about what might be happening onboard.”
“What do we look for?”
“Anything suspicious. A locked door or padlock. Signs of recent use. It would be helpful if we could find where the women are being held captive.”
“Or the women themselves.”
He nodded.
“Do you think they’re here?”
“If they’re lucky,” he said darkly. “Come on.”
Drizzle floated down from a black sky as they made their way toward the front of the ship. Fog hovered at the deck level. Ahead, more decrepit containers were stacked like old cars awaiting the crusher.
They entered a walkway. Containers rose from the deck on either side, conveying the impression of a narrow canyon. Madrid climbed a scaffold that took him to one of the lower containers. He tried the door.
“Locked.” He rapped his fist against steel. “Damn it.”
There was no way they could reach the upper containers. But, honestly, Jess didn’t think the containers
looked like the kind of place where smugglers would stow human cargo. They were too out in the open.
“What about below deck?” she asked.
“Things could get dicey if we get caught below deck.”
Jess knew he was having second thoughts about including her in this mission. While the realization that he was concerned for her safety warmed her, she couldn’t let it keep them from doing what they’d come here to do.
“Madrid, we can’t pass up this opportunity. We’ve gotten this far. Let’s look around and see what we find.”
When he looked at her, his expression was so torn that for a moment she wanted to reach out, touch him, tell him everything was going to be all right. But Jess knew better than to give in to that kind of temptation at a moment like this. Another kiss like the one he’d given her earlier and she might just lose her head.
“There’s no one on this ship, Madrid.”
“You don’t know that.”
“We can’t leave empty-handed.”
“Damn it, Jess, I don’t want you to end up like Angela.”
The words rendered her speechless. Up until this moment he’d been operating on logic. Was it possible coolheaded Mike Madrid was experiencing some of the same emotions as she?
“Too many people I’ve cared about have ended up dead.” He ground out the words as if to justify his earlier statement.
She did reach out then, a soft brush of her fingertips against his cheek. He winced as if her fingertips burned him. “Nothing is going to happen.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “We’re the good guys, remember?”
“Sometimes that isn’t enough.”
“This time it has to be,” she said.
He stared hard at her, nostrils flaring, his expression fraught with tension. “Fifteen minutes.” His voice was so low she had to crane her neck forward to hear. “Then we’re out of here even if I have to drag you. Believe me, I will.”
Jess didn’t doubt it, but there was no time to think of that now. “Let’s go below deck.”
Sighing as if in resignation, Madrid motioned toward the direction from which they’d come. “We passed a hatch a ways back. Follow me. Stay close.”
The only sound came from the soft tap of their shoes against the steel deck. The hatch was set into the fore-mast platform. An oval steel door complete with a wheel lock and rubber seal. Jess kept watch while Madrid went to work on the lock. Two minutes and the hatch creaked open.
Madrid turned to her before entering. “If anything happens, I want you to get back up on deck. If you can’t get off the ship, I want you to jump overboard and swim. Follow the lights.”
For the first time, the reality of what they were doing hit home. A quiver of fear every bit as cold and deep as the water surrounding them ran the length of her. “We’re not going to get caught.”
“What we’re doing is foolhardy, Jess.” Giving her a final hard look, he slid the flashlight from the duffel and ducked through the hatch.
Descending into the bowels of the ship was like descending into hell. Only, this particular hell wasn’t hot
and fiery. It was cold and damp and dark. The odors of garbage and saltwater and diesel fuel filled the air as they reached the lower level.
The flashlight beam cut through the utter darkness to reveal a narrow horizontal corridor. Jess had never been claustrophobic, but she felt it pressing down on her now.
“This way.”
Madrid’s voice jerked her back from a place she knew better than to go. He went left and she followed close behind him. Somewhere in the distance she heard water dripping. In her peripheral vision, when the beam hit just right, she could see droplets streaming down the rust-covered walls.
A distant scream shattered the silence. Jess froze, her heart leaping into a wild staccato. Vaguely she was aware of Madrid stopping, too, and the flashlight beam disappearing. The uneasiness she’d felt earlier grew into a slow and cold fear that wrapped around her like the fingers of death.
“What the hell was that?” she whispered into the darkness.
“Someone’s on board. A female,” came Madrid’s voice. “And she’s in trouble.”
Judging from the terror resonating in the scream, the woman was more than in trouble.
She feared for her very life.
Chapter Eleven
“Where did it come from?”
Madrid flicked the flashlight back on. “Hard to tell. A lot of echo in here. Probably this level.”
He shone the light between them, and Jess crossed to him on shaking legs. For the first time she questioned the wisdom of coming here. Maybe he was right. This was a suicide mission. No way were they going to pull this off without getting caught.
She thought of the scream and shuddered. “They’re hurting someone,” she said.
Grimacing, Madrid shook his head. “Sounded that way.”
The thought made her sick. “We can’t let this continue.”
“I know. Damn it.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll give ourselves ten minutes. After that, we turn around. No matter what. You got that?”
“I got it.”
Keeping the beam low, Madrid took her down the cavelike corridor. Behind him, Jess noticed his free hand
resting on the pistol tucked into his waistband, as if he were expecting someone to accost them at any moment.
Midway down the corridor, they came to another hatch. The wheel lock was affixed with a shiny new padlock and chain.
“Lock looks new,” Jess said.
“Let’s see what they have to hide.” Madrid slid the bolt cutters out of the duffel. The steel snapped and the lock hit the floor before he could catch it. Casting her a tense look, he turned the wheel lock. Two turns. Three. He nearly had the hatch open when the thud of approaching footsteps sounded.
He doused the flashlight, plunging them into darkness. “Where are they coming from?”
Jess’s heart revved like a race-car engine. She looked around wildly, but saw only the endless black void. “I don’t know.” Within the steel belly of the ship it was difficult to tell where sounds were coming from.
Around them, the ancient ship groaned like the walking dead. Water dripped incessantly. Seconds ticked into minutes, but they didn’t move.
“They’re gone,” Madrid whispered.
She touched his shoulder. “Open the hatch.”
Steel ground against steel as he turned the wheel lock. An instant later the airtight hatch hissed open. “We’re in.”
She jolted when his hand closed around her arm and guided her through the hatch. The darkness inside was so complete she couldn’t see her hand even if she held it an inch in front of her face.
Jess nearly sighed in relief when the yellow beam of
the flashlight flooded the room. Her relief was short-lived. The room wasn’t a room at all, but more like a dungeon right out of some medieval castle, with shackles and chains welded to the steel walls. The flashlight beam didn’t reveal much, but from where Jess stood she counted ten sets of shackles for wrists and ankles spaced about a foot apart. A drain was set into the floor. The stench of old urine hung heavy in the dank air.
“What the hell have we walked into?” Madrid muttered.
“A nightmare,” Jess whispered.
He swept the beam around the large cell. A dozen bunk beds with paper-thin mattresses lined the far wall, four high and three across. A rusty sink and commode stood in the corner. Against the opposite wall a dozen more shackles and chains hung like macabre decorations.
“This is where the photo was taken,” he said.
Jess jerked her attention to Madrid. “How do you know?”
“The sink is the same. See the rust stain?”
Jess had thought there was something familiar about the room. She hadn’t been able to pinpoint what it was until he mentioned the sink. “You’re right. But if this is the same place, where are the women?”
“This might explain some of it.”
She looked over to see Madrid kneel. Her stomach heaved when the flashlight beam illuminated a shiny black stain on the floor, the size of a dinner plate. Even though the lighting was bad, Jess knew immediately it was blood.
“My God.” She pressed a shaking hand to her stomach. “What is happening here?”
“Whatever it is, it’s barbaric.” Fury shone in his eyes when he rose. “And illegal as hell. I want photos of everything, including the stain on the floor. Hurry. We’ve only got a few minutes.”
“Okay.” She pulled the disposable camera from the duffel and snapped photos while he held the beam steady.
“The wall. Quickly,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”
She jerked the camera to the wall, snapped half a dozen shots. She took a few more of the sink and commode. The bunks. The chains…
“These photos aren’t definitive proof, but it will be enough to get an official investigation started.”
“I thought Angela was already investigating.”
“She was.” He took the camera and dropped it back into the bag. “A lot of the stuff the MIDNIGHT Agency does is unofficial.”
“What’s the point?”
“The point is that sometimes things aren’t as blac and white as they seem.”
Jess wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that. The blood on the floor seemed about as black and white as anything she’d ever seen in her life. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying there’s probably more going on here than you or I know about.”
“Like what?”
“Hard to say. Something international. Corruption on some level.” He motioned toward the stain on the floor
without looking at it. “One thing I can say for sure is that Angela would never let something so barbaric continue.”
“Maybe that’s why someone saw fit to stop her.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah.”
“Like who?”
“Someone with a lot at stake.”
“Well, that certainly narrows it down.” She spread her arms to encompass the terrible room. “Madrid, where does that leave us?”
His eyes drilled into hers. Within the depth of his gaze, she saw determination and tenacity and the strength of character to do the right thing no matter how difficult.
Or dangerous.
“Since I’m no longer with the agency, that leaves us with the freedom to do the right thing.” He paused. “Even if it means crossing lines.”
Jess wanted to ask him which lines he was talking about, but they were interrupted by the slam of a steel door. Madrid quickly clicked off the flashlight, total darkness crashing over them. Even with her heart hammering hard against her breast, Jess heard the pound of boots.
“Someone’s coming this way,” she whispered.
“More than one person.” Taking her by the shoulders, he shoved her into the corridor. “Time to move. Fast.”
He didn’t give her time to think about it. His hand latched on to hers with the force of a vise grip. The next thing she knew she was being pulled forcefully down the corridor. They were midway to the hatch when overhead lights flashed on.
Horror whipped through her. A terrible sense of being exposed. Of danger. Vaguely she was aware of Madrid cursing under his breath. Of male voices shouting behind her. Heavy footsteps pounding steel. The sound of bullets being chambered.
“You, there! Halt! Now, or I’ll fire!”