Page 96 of Icelock


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“Condor, base,” I reported. “Warehouse is clear. All units have departed. I counted nine vehicles total heading in multiple directions. Recommend mobile team adjust to intercept.”

“Copy,” the Baroness said. “Mobile team, status?”

Will’s voice: “Hardstrasse power station. We have activity. Three men, one vehicle, at the perimeter fence. Photographing now.”

The operation was working.

Both teams were getting evidence.

The pieces were coming together.

“Warehouse team, extract,” the CIA woman’s voice cut in.

“Copy,” I acknowledged.

I peeled myself out of the gap between the containers. My body protested, muscles locked with frozen joints. Worst of all, my shoulder had begun screaming again.

Moving hurt, but staying still would’ve hurt more.

I made it ten meters before I heard a voice behind me.

“Stop,” in German.

Then the click of a pistol being cocked.

I stopped and raised my hands as far above my head as my shoulder allowed.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

I turned to find a young man pointing a gun at my chest. He was in his mid-twenties, maybe, with a pale face and nervous eyes. I recognized him as one of the men from earlier, the one who had thought he’d seen something by the pallets.

He’d come back to check.

“Hands up,” he said. The pistol trembled in his grip. He was scared. He looked even more scared than I was.

That made him dangerous.

“Easy,” I said. My German was still good enough for this. “I’m not armed.”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“I got lost.”

“Liar.” He stepped closer—close enough for me to see the sweat on his forehead despite the cold. “I saw you earlier. You have been watching.”

I didn’t answer.

My mind raced, calculating angles, distances, and odds.

He was only four meters away.

I could rush him, but the pistol was pointed at my chest, and my shoulder was in no shape for a fight.

I could try to talk my way out, but he’d already made up his mind.

That left one option.

“You’re right,” I said. “I have been watching, and I’ve seen everything. The trucks, the crates, the men. I know everything you’re doing tonight.”