Inspecting the keypad closer, I saw a few of the buttons had more wear on them. The numbers were set in four rows of three buttons. The top level being 1, 2,and 3. The lowest level being *, 0,and#. After a few moments, I decided to try the next logical combo based on the worn buttons: 1235. The light above the keypad flashed green, and a small metallic click sounded as the door swung open an inch.
“Holy shit,” I muttered, excited that I’d been successful and shocked that Ollie had been right about how dumb people could be.
Inching into the building, I left the door slightly ajar so I’d have a quick exit in case something went wrong. The scents of motor oil, brake fluid, the strangely spoiled smell of antifreeze, and rubber assaulted my nose. It made it impossible to use my sense of smell to search for anything. I’d have to do this the old-fashioned way.
Making my way across the showroom, I found a door that led to a small office. A desktop computer sat on the table. Bingo. Sitting down, I booted the machine up and waited for the loading screen. To my relief, it didn’t need a password. Digging in, I skimmed the programs and files. Several had names attached to them. None were Lenny’s, though.
Taking a shot in the dark, I clicked a file, pulling up a few dozen spreadsheets and invoices. Nothing. The next file contained what looked like hundreds of serial numbers for parts. A few quick internet searches of the numbers showed me I was correct. Car parts, cleaning supplies, and random shit a garage would use day to day.
A few more clicks revealed the exact same thing. Boring, typical things that anyone would expect of a business like this. My irritation amped up. When I opened my dozenth file, all it showed was a delivery a week prior for a bunch of gas canisters. Five pallets of them.
Fucking riveting shit. I glanced out the office window. The gas canisters were visible at the far end of the garage, each one five feet tall and bright yellow. I frowned as I stared at them. Glancing back at the computer screen, I reread the delivery invoice, then looked back at the canisters. The invoice saidfivepallets had been delivered, yet through the window, I could definitely seesixpallets. I’d never gone to college, but I sure as shit knew six was not the same as five.
I pushed away from the desk and walked toward the window, eyeing the tall cylinders. There was a very good possibility thatthis was some gas they used frequently and had ordered more when they’d gotten down to their last pallet. That made logical sense, but some strange suspicion tickled the back of my mind. With no other leads, I headed out to take a look, if only to appease my curiosity.
My boots clunked against the steel-grated floor as I walked toward the pallets. The closer I got, the stranger the canisters looked. From a distance, they all looked identical, yet upon closer inspection, the sixth pallet had canisters with weird-looking tops. The upper portion seemed to be made from a different material. A shipping manifest lay on a clipboard beside them, but the language was something that may have been Russian. Cyrillic, perhaps. Either way, I couldn’t read it.
Eyeing the container again, I noticed that though the whole canister should have been steel, curving to a bullet-like top and ending with a brass valve and knob, these were different. Instead of a solid piece of steel, these looked like the metal stopped right before the top curve, and a thin seam ran around the cylinder.
The hair on my arms and the back of my neck rose. I might have found something.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I tried twisting the top off one. The entire top portion, valve and all, spun freely beneath my hand.
“Son of a bitch,” I whispered, quickly unscrewing the entire top. I was struck with a bitter chemical reek that made my eyes water. The canister wasn’t filled with propane, acetylene, or helium. Instead, it was filled with small, white, glass-like crystals. Meth.
My eyes widened as I took in the sheer volume of the drug inside the canister. It was five feet tall and nearly a foot wide. A few months ago, I’d read a news report that said a singlegramof this stuff had a street price of thirty dollars. There were probablyhundreds of pounds of it in all the canisters on this pallet. I was staring at literally millions of dollars in drugs.
“Holy fucking shit,” I muttered.
My wonder and surprise were supplanted by something else. Confusion. I’d never been this close to these kinds of drugs, so I wasn’t entirely sure what they were supposed to smell like, but something about it smelled… odd, for want of a better word. I pulled my phone out and took a quick picture of the drugs as well as the Russian shipping manifest. Tucking my phone away, I leaned down to take a better smell, lowering my head.
The explosivecrackof a gunshot burst through the garage the instant I leaned forward. A bullet slammed into the wall above me, sending a burst of plaster and wood spraying across my face. It struck where my head had been a few seconds before. Unable to fully process what happened, I leapt backward, tucking and rolling. I fell behind a stack of tires as a second gunshot fired, filling the dark garage with a bright flash of light and the tang of burnt gunpowder.
Shifting, I bolted for the door I’d left open. Another gunshot sounded, and a high-pitchedpingmade me flinch as the bullet slammed into the steel floor only a few inches to my right. To my horror, I saw that the rear door now stood fully latched and closed. The fucker had trapped me inside. I’d never noticed him. He’d been too quiet, and the scents of the garage had masked his approach.
Goddamn it, I’d fucked up.
The sound of running feet spurred me to move even faster. He was coming for me. Without looking back or even bothering to heed the danger, I leapt toward the window beside the door, praying it wasn’t laminated safety glass. Closing my eyes tight, I crashed through the glass. In a miracle I barely registered, none of the shards sliced me as I went.
Rolling on the ground, I righted myself quickly and bolted from the garage. Behind me, I heard the sound of pursuit. If I’d known exactly how many men were after me, I might try and turn to fight. But it sounded like suicide. Ihadto run.
Thzzap.
I flinched as a bullet flew past my ear, buzzing like a bee as it tore the air beside my head. Less than a split second later, another gunshot thundered through the night. Still unwilling to slow to look behind me, I took a turn up the street and headed west. The noise behind me changed. Instead of the clipping sound of shoes sprinting, I now heard the hissing sound of paws on grass.
He’d be able to track me easily, and I couldn’t lead this guy back to Cameron. A street sign that said “Detroit Zoo” gave me an idea.
Pouring on more speed, I sprinted across a busy road, trying to put distance between me and my pursuer. The drivers on the street swerved to avoid the massive wolf that had emerged from the shadows. Tires squealed and horns blared, a cacophony of noise and light, but I stayed focused, never once flinching or moving aside. Leaping high, I cleared the hood of a truck and landed on my paws, never losing speed as I raced toward the zoo. If there was anywhere I could hide, that was it.
Catching sight of the gates and ticket booths, I rushed headlong toward them. In a single, bounding jump, I made it halfway up the wall. Planting my paws into the rough brick, I jumped a second time, clearing the jagged metal spikes on top. I fell into a shrub on the other side, the leaves and branches cushioning my fall.
Beyond the gates, I heard a growl and snarl of agitation, then the sounds of multiple sets of claws scrabbling at the brick wall. Fuck, these guys were persistent. I rolled off the shrub and ran deeper into the zoo.
Scanning the signs as I went, I steered away from the prey animals. That would do nothing to deter the shifter chasing me. One of the signs showed the outline of a beast I thought might keep them away from me. The terror that surged through me at seeing the outline of the body didn’t scare me as much as the thought of what the guys following might do if they caught me.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I sprinted toward the enclosure, shifted to my human form to climb better, and made my way over the tall fence. Tossing myself over the side, I landed in a water-filled moat. Shifting again, I paddled to the shore. After shaking the excess water from my fur, I ran into the shadows.
Beyond the moat and fence, I heard the clicking of wolf claws running on pavement as they searched for me. Behind me, an aggressive burst of air drew my attention. Turning slowly, I came face to face with the creature I thought might keep my pursuers at bay.
