Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
But not while Cal and Rufus were out there, in danger. “I have to go,” I told her, and ran.
I headed for the building Cal had waved to, the one with sloping windows that overlooked the port. I raced inside and then up the stairs to the top floor. From the huge windows, I could see the whole dockside: the ship, with the ambulances pulled up next to the gangplank, the police cars arriving, and the sprawling container maze. Squinting, I could just see Cal and Rufus down there, creeping forwards through the containers. I have to help them!
“What the hell is with people bursting into my control room today?” asked an aggrieved voice. I turned to see a woman in her forties wearing a headset. Then she frowned, taking in my plaid shirt and muddy jeans. “You’re her.” She glanced at the ship, at the open container, and the other women still on board. “The one he was trying to save.”
I recognized the voice. Nina. “We have to help him,” I told her. There was panic in my voice. Even from all the way up here, I could see Cal’s uncertainty in the way he moved. He was used to the wild and the containers were like a freakin’ laboratory maze for mice.
“Here,” said Nina, and passed me a pair of binoculars. That helped: now I could search the maze and...there! I saw the corner of a gray suit jacket peeking out from behind a container. Ralavich was lying in wait for Cal, just a little way ahead. “Tell him to stop!”
Nina spoke into her headset. “Cal! Stop!”
Through the binoculars, I saw Cal stop. He looked down in confusion at his shirt pocket as if he’d forgotten the radio was there.
“Your man is ahead of you in the south-west quadrant,” Nina told him. “Take a left.” Cal turned. “Your other left!” she told him. “Towards the customs area!”
Cal stopped and fumbled to press the talk button on his radio...which meant lowering his rifle. “Where’s the customs area?”
“Past the refrigerated containers!”
Cal looked around in confusion. “What do those look like?”
Nina cursed. I bit my lip. This was no good: she was doing her best, but she was used to dock workers who knew every nook and cranny of the docks. And every time Cal had to stop and ask something, he had to take his hands off his rifle, which made him vulnerable. It wasn’t her fault: she’d never guided anyone who was completely out of their element, before.
But I had. “Please, I need a headset.”
Nina motioned to a young, blond-haired guy with glasses and he took off his headset and passed it to me. I settled it onto my head. “Cal?” I said. “It’s me. Put the radio in your pocket and I’ll guide you, okay?”
Through the binoculars, I saw his shoulders relax. He nodded and put the radio away, readying his rifle.
“Okay, ahead of you there’s a wall of containers: blue on the bottom, red on the top. Head straight towards that.” He did it. “Good, now turn ninety degrees to your left. There’s a big stack of white containers with black fans on the ends. I want you to go past those and keep going until you reach the green container covered in graffiti.”
I guided him step by step, just like helping someone on a support call. After a while, I felt Nina move silently in behind me and lay a comforting hand on my shoulder.
I took Cal around Ralavich’s ambush and then, when Ralavich realized he wasn’t coming and took off again, I guided him down the fastest route to intercept him. The two of them were nearly at the far end of the maze, now, right near the edge of the port. And the cops were still far behind. “You’re right on him,” I told Cal. “He’s moving parallel to you, behind the wall of containers to your left.”
And then there was nothing more I could do except watch...and pray.
74
Cal
I CREPT ALONG the container, rolling my feet instead of stepping, making no sound at all. Rufus pressed tight to my side, just as silent. Ahead of us was a rusty fence that marked the edge of the port. It was sagging and ripped and there were holes big enough to squeeze through. Beyond that, there was a patch of marshy wasteland and beyond that, the city and a million places where Ralavich could disappear.
I reached the corner of the container and peeked around it—
There was a roar of gunfire and sparks singed my cheek. I whipped back around the corner, hearing the echo of the ricochet rolling around and around the metal walls of the maze. He’d missed my head by an inch.
I’d gotten a look at him, just a fleeting glimpse. There’d been true fear in his eyes: that was why he wasn’t taunting or gloating. He knew he was in trouble. But that made him very, very dangerous.