Chapter 15 - The Blood Ledger
"Sarah, we’ve got company," Vance said into his radio, his voice dropping to an urgent murmur as he racked the slide of his revolver.
"I see them!" Sarah’s panic bled through the speaker. "Two Yukon Denalis. They just cut the main gate lock. They didn't trip the perimeter alarm—they have the master bypass codes! Get out of there now!"
"Bay door is blocked," Evelyn said, her voice eerily calm despite the adrenaline surging through her veins. She shoved the personnel folder into her satchel, then grabbed three magnetic storage tapes labeled *1999–2000 CLEARING HOURLY.* "Vance, the freight elevator shaft to the roof. Does it have an external ladder?"
"Maintenance shaft on the east wall," Vance replied, motioning her forward. "Move!"
They sprinted down the concrete aisle as the warehouse’s heavy iron doors swung open with a screech. Heavy footsteps echoed against the floor, accompanied by the distinct, mechanical click of automatic weapons being unholstered.
"Search the archive rows," a voice shouted from the front bay—a European accent, harsh and guttural. "Arthur said she is here for the paper trail. Kill anyone inside. Burn the files."
Evelyn and Vance reached the iron maintenance ladder. Vance boosted her up onto the first rung. "Climb, Evelyn! Don't look down!"
As Evelyn swung her leg over the upper platform leading to the roof hatch, a flashlight beam caught her boots.
"Up there! Fire!"
A burst of suppressed gunfire ripped through the warehouse, the rounds tearing through the corrugated metal walls with wet, violent snaps. Cardboard boxes exploded into clouds of shredded documents above Evelyn’s head, paper raining down like funeral confetti.
Vance fired twice down the shaft, his .38 cracking with deafening thunder in the enclosed space. A man shouted in pain below.
"Out! Out!" Vance shoved the roof hatch open, and the freezing rain hit them instantly.
They scrambled across the gravel roof toward the rear of the building, where the structure abutted the canal embankment. Below them, forty feet down, the black water of the industrial canal churned sluggishly against concrete pilings.
"We can't jump that," Vance panted, looking over the edge.
"We don't jump the canal," Evelyn pointed toward the freight spur. A line of slow-moving rail tankers was rolling down the siding, their diesel locomotives rumbling through the night. "The train!"
"Are you insane?" Vance shouted over the rain.
"I know how to calculate velocity!" Evelyn seized his arm. "On three! One... two... three!"
They leaped from the warehouse parapet, landing hard on the steel catwalk of a passing tanker car. The impact knocked the wind from Evelyn’s lungs, pain shooting through her ribs, but her fingers locked around the rusted safety railing with iron tenacity. Vance landed beside her, groaning as he dragged his leg over the steel grating.
Above them, on the roof of the warehouse, three figures appeared, weapons raised. But the train was already carrying them beneath the shadow of the New Jersey Turnpike overpass, the concrete pillars swallowing them in darkness.
Evelyn pulled herself up, her wet hair plastered to her face, her coat soaked through with canal mist and freezing rain. She pressed the satchel against her chest.
"Sarah," she breathed into the wet radio. "We’re on the freight line heading south toward Newark. Pick us up at the rail yard."
"Copy that," Sarah gasped, the sound of tires screeching in the background. "Ev... while you were inside, the US Attorney’s office issued a breaking press release."
"Julian?"
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"No," Sarah said, her voice trembling. "Victoria. She was found unconscious in her penthouse twenty minutes ago. Suspected overdose. But before the paramedics took her, she left a voice recording on your firm's answering service. She wants you, Evelyn. She said she will only trade the final authorization key to the girl from Queens."
***
