The face of a dark-haired man blocks out the sun.
“Hi, Dina. I’m Chief Kinnar. I’m glad you’re okay.” He crushes my wrist, and I scream in pain.
He steps away.
“Declan Crossbow is under the rubble. You’re obliged to get him out. You’re a public servant.”
The chief bends over the stretcher, “We will retrieve his body. Don’t worry.”
“He could still be alive. Get him!”
The chief tsks. “What a loud little cunt you are. If your friend Martin weren’t my wife’s cousin, I would have left you too.” He disappears from view.
I try to sit up. I can’t quite make it, but I manage to shout after him, “The other one will come for you.”
The chief shouts back, “I sure hope so.”
Tris pushes my stretcher into the ER. The bright light blinds me. People swarm the stretcher, and one woman introduces herself as a trauma doctor. I’ve never met her before. She must be replacing Dr. Pertel, who went on vacation.
There’s a flurry of activity.
The woman shines a small light into my eye and says something, but all I see is her mouth opening and closing.Myheart hurts, lady, and I can’t deal.I cry harder, and they sedate me.
Chapter 29
Out of town
Declan
Agent Glass is on a stakeout near the port posing as a tourist. He believes that’s where I’ll receive today’s shipment of weapons. I drove past him, professional training allowing me to see right through the ruse.
The Macarleys were the original pirate traders before the governments of various countries figured out how to profit off wars and the demise of their own people. Since the airport is crawling with authorities like Glass, and Selnoa’s port belongs to the government my dad used to pay off to turn a blind eye to his shipments, Glass thought I would use the port.
Endo sent an airplane that’s already landed, and the men are unloading fresh produce, some of which Mary is bagging to take for the house.
I snatch a case of fresh garden tomatoes from her hands and load it into the back of the SUV. Once done, I clean my hands by rubbing my palms together.
Mary watches me. “You know what I like about you, Declan Crossbow?” Mary asks while picking up a red, ripe tomato. It’s arhetorical question, so she continues. “You’re not too rich to get your hands dirty.”
What can I say? I like putting my ninja skills to work.
Endo marks the boxes of the actual cargo that matters (weapons) with silly labels and logo designs that aren’t too different from those of major companies promoting their products. This is so nobody suspects anything. However, this cargo label shows a man holding up a crossbow and a tomato.
My uncle is a sarcastic asshole.
The men handle the containers as if they’re all packed with tomatoes, but some containers are open, the others closed. The closed ones get placed on forklifts and deposited in the storage area of the airplane hangar that Mary and I are parked next to.
The man driving the forklift deviates from the route.
“What’s that guy doing?” Mary asks.
Also rhetorical.
He drives the lift loaded with mixed crates, some open, some closed, off to the side, where two men await in a beat-up white pickup truck. They take all the crates, food included.
“They’re stealing,” I say.
“Yeah, did you see the tents and caravans park in the meadows on the way here?”
