1
The Naval yard was dark and quiet, too quiet, Emily noted as she approached, the roughened asphalt practically screaming under her tires. She flicked off the headlights on the car, and slid into the shadowed corner of Building F, pointing her windshield at the south facing wall of Building G. The tip she had received had been vague, something about Harlow being spotted entering this particular warehouse building in the Charlestown Naval Yard. But that had been it. Emily noted at least two doors on this side of the building, an additional two doors on the side facing the water. No other vehicles between G and F. The two exits on the river side had lights illuminating the lot and the doors, a risky exit if one didn't want to be seen. These two doors in the shadows would be her choice. Thinking like a criminal was the best way to catch one. And Harlow was a shadowy bastard.
Harlow was always two steps ahead; had always been since she was assigned the case two years ago. Emily had spent two months undercover at one of his strip clubs last year to attempt to figure out the details of his operation. The sheer number of women he was able to move every month was mind boggling. She had only been able to thwart one shipment while undercover, but it had nearly blown the entire case and cost her her job. She left with a bruised reputation, frustration, and a much tighter leash from her superiors. On the upside, she had made a very loyal contact. But that had been the extent of her progress.
Double checking the number of bullets in her gun, Emily holstered it with the air of practiced confidence as she stepped out of the vehicle into the crisp fall air. Leaning against the side of the car with the door open, she pulled the receiver on the dash radio.
"Byrne to Dispatch, checking in. Charlestown Naval Yard, Building G. South side. Responding to the disturbance tip. "
The returned voice was scratchy and a touch robotic. "Dispatch to Byrne. Backup en route, standby".
Emily rolled her eyes, replacing the receiver and closing the car door. Hopefully this wouldn't be a shit show. Nick was in charge of the backup crew tonight, and their relationship had been a bit rocky lately. Honestly the problems had started back when she chose to go undercover. Flynn had been three then, settled into his routine, and getting used to either mom or dad being gone for longer periods of time at work. Emily, as all working moms did, had sacrificed enough of her career to raise him this far. This Harlow case, despite its frustrations, was finally giving her a feeling of accomplishment that seemed to be missing from her life. The undercover gig would give her so much more control and access, being right in the action; those had been her arguments. Nick's arguments had simply been to have her think of her family, think of Flynn. All she ever did was think of Flynn, why didn't he see that. Before Flynn, she had done this job for fun. Now she did it for him. Despite Nick's efforts to stop her, she had gone ahead and done it anyway. When things went south, he had jumped into defend her job, but saved the 'I told you so' for the tense car ride home. Things had been less than spectacular between them ever since.
Because of their relationship, it was easy to keep things professional at the office. They were technically in different departments, but often their schedules were synched enough to carpool, or overlapped enough so they could go to therapy and take care of Flynn together. When their paths did cross at work, he was an insufferable arrogant jerk, the protective machismo dominating his actions. Emily hated this about him; she wasn't a delicate flower that needed protecting. She actually had more training in hand-to-hand and defensive combat training than he did!
But the short leash on her actions had been justified, and not just from him. She had nearly compromised the case completely. She reluctantly followed the rules for backup, within reason. And the reasons were mighty thin. And so she sat, waiting for Nick and his partner so that she had adequate backup to take the building. She normally wasn't alone. Adam Radford, her partner, had called in sick yet again tonight, what was shaping up to a Friday night routine. She saw through his attempt at a bad cough when he called her earlier. Anxiously tapping her fingers on the car door, she daydreamed about what nice restaurant he was treating this week's girlfriend to.
Shadowy movement along Building F took her out of her impatient wanderings. She silently noted the details: a short stature person, dark hooded sweater with the hood pulled up, approaching one of the shadowed south facing doors, keeping to the darkness, furtive and nervous, hands in front pocket. Possibly the outline of a gun. Emily unconsciously patted her own holstered gun for reassurance as she moved around the front of the vehicle for a better view.
The mystery person knocked on the warehouse door, Emily checking her watch to mentally note the time for her report later. Another, much taller person answered the knock, and Emily narrowed her eyes to get a better view, the backlight shooting the angular features into relief. She would recognize that face anywhere. Harlow.
Backup be damned; she was going closer. Drawing her gun, she closed the distance between the buildings quickly, eyes trained on Harlow's face, still in profile in the open doorway, to preempt any reaction.
Having concluded their conversation, both people entered the warehouse, the door clicking shut with a terse finality, just as Emily had slunked into the shadows of the other door. Damn, she had missed her chance. But maybe not. She leaned into the door, pressing her ear flat to the cold metal, desperate for anything on the other side. Shuffling? Talking? Anything.
Emily reached down to try the door handle. Slow and controlled, she wrapped her fingers around the metal and pushed. Holding her breath, she maintained the stealth, surprised that the door opened inward. Without even a creak, she slithered into the warehouse.
It took a minute for her eyes to adjust, and she took that time to readjust her gun, holding it low, and taking in the scene. Back up be damned, she was going to take credit for this one. She wasn't going to lose him this time.
It was a warehouse like any other, large wrapped pallets, crates, boxes stacked around in what could have been some sort of order. A maze of paths between the doors, offices and what looked like a locker room off to her right side. No people in this main part, but of course there wouldn't be, she mused. Harlow was smarter than that. He wouldn't keep the most precious cargo right out in the open. He couldn't have just anyone entering an unlocked warehouse door and looting his prize possessions. Emily kept close to the wall at her back, stepping along to the right, aiming for the office spaces. There were only so many places to hide in this warehouse and Harlow wouldn't stay out in the open.
The first door she tried led to the locker room type space, the tile on the wall and floor echoing each of her heel taps, the wind of the door opening blowing into the space. Tiled sinks to one side, urinal trough to the other, lines of stalls filling the middle space, more tiled shower nooks taking up the back of the locker room space. Unavoidable clicks telegraphed her every move no matter how much she tried to control her steps. Even her exhales held tension, and to keep from growling her frustration she finally let out, "Harlow! I know you're in here. Just let's get this over with. Once and for all! Enough of this cat and mouse."
"But then how would I have any fun?" Harlow's cold baritone bounced off the tiles, this threat seasoned with a short laugh. Too many stalls, too many nooks and crannies, she couldn't pinpoint his location with just one answer. But if she kept him talking?
"Backup is on its way. There's nowhere to go." With each threat, her voice gained confidence as she timed her words with her steps to mask her movements toward the stalls. "There's no more ways out of here."
Harlow's laugh reverberated and multiplied across the barren tiles, "We'll be out of here before they even arrive."
Emily anticipated the first punch, having sensed a body behind the first stall and seeing the door swing open toward her. As she caught it with her nondominant hand, she clocked that it wasn't Harlow. Too short, and in the space of that thought she sidestepped the second swing. She had the advantage, still holding the assailant's wrist. She didn't do all that training in kick-boxing and hand-to-hand combat for nothing. Whomever was throwing these punches from behind the grey hooded sweatshirt was sloppy and slow. Same person she saw enter the warehouse earlier, she noted.
Unfortunately that was the last conscious thought for Emily.
She hadn't anticipated the blow to the back of the head, this one delivered by Harlow. The sudden jolt had her let go of the hooded assailant's wrist, and it was in turn answered by an undefended gut punch. As Emily began to drop, Harlow guided her shoulders into a well placed knee hard into her temples, ensuring her complete cooperation. She dropped her gun as her eyes fluttered closed.
