Chapter Thirty-Six
Ishmael
Ishmael looked at the mess of wires and laptops that Jamal and his team were using to monitor the targets. Usually, they’d be sat back in headquarters, but for this, they required finesse. They needed to be close to hack the office park’s surprisingly sophisticated security system and that on the office building being used Tynesdale’s group. Surprising that is, unless you knew who owned the park through several shell companies and what the three-story sixties office building in the middle of the mostly unused space was being used for.
“We have a go,” Jamal said softly. “The Koreans have launched their assault and cameras are off.
Ishmael glanced down at his watch as Ezra opened the back of the lorry trailer they were sat in. Two-thirty a.m., on the dot, just as planned. Up and down the street, cars that owners didn’t have drives for parked on the double yellows in front of the small row of run down looking shops. The odd lorry or two also sat parked, peering out from where the drivers had pulled into an alley to pass the night away without having to pay parking. No one so much as stirred.
Ishmael, Ezra, and Josh moved stealthily towards the gate.
“Arrogant sons of bitches,” Ezra observed. “No guards on the gate.”
“Well, it’s supposed to be just offices. Not the lair of a master criminal,” Josh replied drily.
“Or warehousing. Just commercial spaces for low key businesses,” Ishmael murmured.
“The electronic lock is disengaged. You should be able to just roll the gate open,” Jamal’s tired voice came over their earpieces as the three men pulled on their leather gloves.
“Roger that,” Ezra answered.
The three men crept forward. Ezra tested the gate. It began to slide open. He grunted from the effort. “Needs oilin’,” he joked. Once it was all the way open, they informed the rest of their team. Moments later, their lorry drove past them and through the gate, coming to a stop on the other side of a small planting of weedy looking trees and tatty shrubs which passed as landscaping between the park’s main road and a small parking lot. The trio followed behind. Ishmael glanced over his shoulder. The car Ollie had procured that afternoon sat idling in the open gateway, keeping the sensor from re-closing the gate.
“Okay, we’ve got fifteen minutes.”
It had to be enough.
Dumbasses are all sleeping like babies. Dumb fuck doesn’t have any actual human eyes on the place.
They crossed the parking lot and Ezra used the bolt cutters he was carrying to make quick work on the lock holding the chain on the loading bay doors closed. Josh caught the lock as it fell and then pulled the chain out from one handle, careful to not scrape the metal surfaces against each other. Once free, they pulled the door open just wide enough to go through.
They found themselves in a loading dock area that held several parking bays, originally for office and canteen delivery supplies. They were now empty, all except one. That one had been turned into a cell with iron rebar welded together and embedded into the concrete wall, ceiling and floor. Faint fluorescent tube lights flickered overhead. Seeing Kris wasn’t there and recalling the original floorplans Ollie dug up from when the building was sold at auction six years ago, he jerked his head towards the stairs.
The landing had a janitorial supply closet, still marked as such by a small plaque on the wall next to the doorway. The door was missing and peering inside, he could see a shower had been rigged up inside.
Clever. After dirty jobs, they can come back in and wash away the evidence before coming into the house.
They advanced up the next flight of stairs, stopping at the door at the top. Ishmael tried the handle, startled when it actually moved beneath his hand and the door swung open. Someone had either been very careless, or it was a trap.
Eyebrow raised, he glanced at Ezra who gave him a cocky grin before slipping through the open doorway. No sounds of a scuffle ensued. Instead, he heard a barely breathed “Clear” in Ezra’s voice. He stepped in, Josh close behind. A light shone from a room up the passageway. As they crept closer, it became evident that it was a kitchen and the light came from the extractor fan over the cooker. A lone figure sat at the table.
The man looked to be in his thirties and face looked sad, his eyes tired. The man held his hands wide, “Easy,” he said softly. “I figured you might show up, especially after Crichton did.”
“You left the door unlocked?” Ishmael asked harshly.
“Yeah. Boss hasn’t been right since his Mum died, but now he’s gone completely ‘round the twist. This ain’t just about building the business anymore. He’s all over the place. Your boy is down the hall to the left. He made the old office manager’s office into a room for him.”
The man stood up. “Keys are in my front left pocket. You’ll need them to open his crate. Just take ’em and let me go. I didn’t have nuthin’ to do with taking him. I was here putting on TV shows for his Mum.”
Ishmael frowned at that. The man had just said Tynesdale’s mother was dead. Deciding it didn’t matter, he jutted his chin at Josh, telling him to get the keys.
“You can go, but wait until we’ve left, so my other men don’t take you out,” he advised.
The man licked his lips. “Okay, just tell your boy, Jonesy is real sorry for the shit he went through.” Ishmael filed the name away, watching as the man slipped down the hall to make his way out down the stairs. “I’ll just wait downstairs,” the man said.
Josh handed Ishmael the keys and moved to watch the way they had come in, making sure it would remain clear for their retreat. Ishmael pocketed the keys, then walked over to the counter to take one of the cooking knives from the rack hanging on the wall. Josh pulled out the screwdriver he’d brought. Now that all three were armed with their preferences and ready for action, they fanned out. Only three of the rooms turned out to be occupied. One bedroom held Tynesdale. A guest room held Crichton. The third, the former office manager’s office off of the reception area now being used as a lounge, held a giant turtle sandbox filled with litter, a large dog crate, and an armchair with a man snoring away, head down on his chin. Ishmael’s cock hardened at the site of his boy, beautiful in his captivity. The white leather against his skin was a hard pass, though. Ishmael decided a similar outfit should be ordered when. They got back, this time in soft brown leather.
Ezra came up beside him. “I’ll get the guard, you get Kris. Then I’ll go back for Crichton.”
