And then, one door down the hallway, the sound of a flushing toilet echoed through the silence. Raiden and Cash exchanged a glance, then each fell into different positions. When the door to the bathroom opened, Raiden landed a dart in the chest of the man who emerged. He was wearing a gray suit, and he mumbled some confused grunts before he tumbled to the ground with a loud thud.
“At least he took care of business first,” Cash muttered.
The door at the end of the hallway flew open. “Who the hell—" Before the tall man stepping out could finish his sentence, Raiden fired a dart his way. Just as quickly, though, the man slammed the door shut again, deflecting the dart to the ground.
“Fuck,” Raiden cursed, then charged forward. Their cover was blown, and the only thing he could think about was plowing ahead and getting his hands on Lawrence as fast as they could.
“Raiden, wait!” Cash called, sprinting after him, but Raiden barely heard the words. He lowered his shoulder, ready to charge his way through the flimsy wooden door if that’s what it took. Just as quickly, though, the door kicked open again. His full momentum rushing ahead, Raiden gasped as he saw the rifle, pointed straight at him.
A dull force hit the back of his knees, and Raiden fell hard on his face as the bullet blasted by over his head. Cash tumbled to the ground with him and sent a dart toward the door, but the man dodged it, cocked his gun, and sent another bullet ricocheting down the hallway. “Who the fuck are you?” he hollered.
Back on his feet, Raiden jumped forward. He threw a wild punch, which the man dodged expertly, then countered by pounding the butt of the rifle into Raiden’s shoulder. Grunting from the sharp pain, Raiden reeled back but used the wall to thrust himself forward again and landed his boot with a hard kick against the man’s thigh.
“You’re fucking dead,” the man screamed. He swung his rifle up, cocking it straight at Raiden’s chest, and for minute, Raiden thought it was over. His last desperate thought went to Lawrence and Cash, and he prayed that they’d escape even if he didn’t.
A dart whizzed through the air, thwapping into the man’s arm. He stumbled in place for a second, and the rifle fell loosely from his hands and clattered to the ground.
Raiden gasped, his heart still thumping, and turned to Cash. “You saved my life.”
“Twice. But don’t get cute about it,” Cash said, his gun still straight in the air.
In the tense minutes that followed, no one else came busting into the hallway. Methodically, Raiden and Cash made their way through the rooms. There were a couple of offices that seemed set to deal with the legitimate warehouse business, as well as a locked room, filled with what seemed to be crates of Cuban cigars and another loaded with handguns and ammunition. Every time Raiden kicked open another door, he prayed Lawrence would be waiting at the other side, but soon enough, there was only the stairs to the subbasement left.
“I’ve got two darts left,” Raiden whispered.
“Just one for me,” Cash answered.
Raiden palmed the back of Cash’s head, then pulled him into another kiss. “Let’s hope there aren’t more than three guards down there.” He pressed his finger to his earpiece. “We’re going down below.”
“You’ll lose the signal,” Seb said through the fading static. “Good luck.”
The subbasement was lit by fluorescent lights. The stairs landed on a concrete floor, and across from them sat two wooden doors, each unlabeled against the white wall. Raiden prayed to god that things were going fine with Seb, and a gang of thugs wasn’t charging into the warehouse at that moment, ready to trap them in the claustrophobic basement.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Cash whispered. “Be okay for us.”
They went to the first door, which was locked. Cash pulled out his tools and picked it quickly, then silently pushed the door open. It was dark inside, but when he pushed the door fully open, the hall light illuminated a simple office, with a desk, some file cabinets, and a large calendar of naked women hanging on the wall.
Raiden and Cash locked eyes, then turned to the other door. “Go hard,” Cash mouthed to Raiden. “By surprise.”
With a quick nod, Raiden reared his boot back, then kicked the door in. Cash slid through in front of him, sweeping his gun through the air. The world seemed to go by in slow motion as Raiden watched Cash’s face fall. The door hit the wall with a bang, and he charged into the room, ready for anything.
It was totally empty. A wooden chair was toppled on the concrete floor, and a knife was stuck in the wall. But otherwise, the last room was bare.
“He’s not here,” Cash said, stunned. “He’s not fucking here.”
“Damn it!” Raiden turned, raging, then kicked the wall. Tears bit at the corners of his eyes, frustration with himself and Cash and everything else storming. “Where is he? Where the hell is he?”
Cash looked like he was about to puke. He grabbed Raiden by the shoulder. “We’ve still got to get out of here,” he whispered. “Fast!”
“That’s it?” Raiden asked, suddenly terrified. “We just go?”
Cash pressed his fingers to his temple in deep thought. “The office,” he answered. “There might be a clue.”
They hurried back to the other room, and Raiden kept an eye on the stairs while Cash flipped through the files, then turned to clicking on the computer. Raiden’s pulse was a hammer against his temple, and he felt like he could rip a car in half, he was so upset that they had failed.
“Come on,” he hissed to Cash. “We have to hurry.”
“This computer is a goldmine of Reed’s secret files,” he hissed. “There’s so much we could use. I have to dig through it!”
