“The shipment didn’t scatter as much as they wanted me to think,” Archer says, trying for steady and failing. He swallows so hard I can hear it. “The main lot’s sitting in a warehouse off 1/9 near Kearny, two streets from the Meadowlands trucking company near the railroad.”
“Who’s holding it?” I ask.
A beat. “Popeye’s people. Not all of them. He’s got three bikes up front, and a van backed into the loading bay. I heard that they’re planning to move small bundles at night under a tarp in a panel truck. I don’t know where.”
“You do,” I say.
“No. Well, not everything,” he stammers. “Not yet. But the warehouse is real. That’s a start, right? They’ve got lookouts at the corner and a drunk in a sedan across the street that looks like a civilian. He’s not. He’s got the same sticker on his dash as the patches.”
Petrov is already tapping notes to the team chat on an untraceable phone. He mouths Kearny. I nod once. Like Viktor, he stands there without making a sound, eyes on me, waiting for more intel.
“What else,” I demand, not ask.
“They’re…nervous,” Archer rushes on. “After yesterday, they’re expecting a hit. Their radio call is ‘river’ when they wantto move fast and ‘smoke’ when they want to disappear. The door code on the front keypad should still be two-six-six-seven if they haven’t changed it.”
I watch Alina stare at the phone as if she can drag more out of it with sheer hope.
“How do I know you aren’t feeding me to your friends again?” I ask him.
“You don’t,” Archer says. The words come too quickly to be invented. “But you know I called. And you know I—” His voice breaks. He smothers it. “You know what it means that I called.”
It means Alina pressed him hard enough to bruise his selfish, thick skin. It means the fear in her lie worked. Good.
“If this is a trap,” I say, “you will die slowly.”
“I know that,” he huffs down the line.
“And you’re still going to be punished for stealing,” I warn him. “You assured that much with the shooting.”
“They made me tell them the location!” he argues, and I ignore his weak excuse.
“How many men are inside the warehouse?” I ask him. Even wounded, my mind sketches the layout automatically, entry points, blind corners, how many seconds a man can bleed before he drops.
“Between six and eight I think,” Archer says. “One on the roof with a rifle, another on a catwalk near the north window.”
“Vehicles?”
“Inside there’s one panel truck. One white van backing onto the bay. Then the bikes and fake drunk’s sedan like I already told you.”
He’s not improvising. He sounds like someone who walked circles around that building until his feet memorized it. I look at Viktor. His face doesn’t change, but his eyes do. We both believe him enough to make a move.
“Why help me now?” I ask mildly. “You had a head start. You ran with our money. You sold our guns. You sent these assholes to kill me, my men, and your own sister. Why should I listen to a word that comes out of your mouth telling me where to find them now?”
“Because Alina is still there,” he says. “Because she’s alive, and I want her to stay that way, even if she hates me.”
I cut the call. Cowardly or not, I can’t listen to him say her name like it still belongs to him.
When I roll my shoulders back, the bandage reminds me I’m human and stitched up. I disregard it and stand to begin pacing while I think.
“Viktor.”
He nods that he’s ready to listen to my orders and retrieves his phone.
“Three cars,” I tell him, “staggered entry. First car idles two blocks south—eyes only. Second car posts at the north corner, one man on foot with a long lens, one in the alley on the east side with a hook to kill the warehouse’s power if I say. Third car floats, stay back close enough to be ready to wedge the back bay if they try to push the van out.”
Petrov’s fingers move faster, typing it all down. Good. If Archer is lying again, I want every angle mapped before we walk into the dark.
Neither man needs me to say the next part. I say it anyway. “No sirens. No neighbors. No noise until the first call. We don’t own Kearny PD. We do own its councilman. Keep the cameras on but put them on a loop.”
