Page 80 of Savage Protector

“What’s that?” Tony holds up a hand for silence. “Listen.”

We roll to a halt and wait. Sure enough, we all hear this time.

“An engine. Someone’s about.”

Rome kills the headlamps, and we wait in silence. A few seconds later, a vehicle cruises past the end of the alleyway we’re in.

“Follow that van, but keep the lights off,” Tony instructs.

We glide noiselessly in the wake of the Transit. It might be white, but it’s difficult to be sure in the dark. The registration plate is smeared with mud, which does even more to convince us this is significant.

“They’re stopping,” Rome whispers and does the same, far enough away that they’re not likely to spot us in the gloom, especially if they’re not even looking.

Tony grabs a couple of pairs of night-vision goggles from the glove box and hands one to me. We both train them on the van, which has stopped close to one of the huge roller shutters on the final building in the row, and on the four men who have emerged from it. One of them crouches to unlock the shutter which starts to roll upward. The other three make themselves useful unloading something from the rear.

“Seems to be boxes or crates,” I breathe. “Some sort of equipment or maybe merchandise. This could be a storage facility or distribution hub.”

“We need to get closer,” is Beck’s view. “I’ll go.”

“No, they’ll see you.”

Beck gives Tony a scornful look. “I don’t think so. Watch this, boss.”

He slithers from the rear passenger door and simply disappears into the night.

“Where the fuck did he go?” Tony casts around with the goggles, scanning the area from side to side.

“Is he some sort of ninja?” Rome is equally impressed.

“Fuck knows, but— Holy shit, is that him?” Tony is pointing to a spot somewhere to the front of the Transit van.

“What? Where?” None of us can see anything.

“It was just a shadow, but— Yes! Fuck, he’s slashed the tyres.”

I manage to pick out the vague shape in the darkness with the aid of the goggles, but only briefly before Beck melts back into the night.

A few minutes later he materialises again, right alongside our SUV. I reach across to let him in.

“They’re unloading camera and sound equipment, so it seems like Bilal was right about what they’re doing here. Apart from the four in the van, there are two more inside, but that seems to be all. I didn’t see any guns. Plenty of conversation, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying, they didn’t speak English.”

“Well, that’s not bad intel to start with. Nice work.”

We wait few more minutes, during which time the men complete their unloading and three of them enter the building, closing the shutter behind them. The fourth man takes up a position beside the door, lounging against the ribbed steel wall, scrolling on his phone.

“He must be some sort of guard, not that he gives the impression he’s even a little bit alert.”

Any one of us performing like that would be fired on the spot—if we were lucky and Ethan was in a forgiving mood.

“There’s someone else coming,” Rome hisses. “Pedestrians, behind us. Everybody down.”

We all duck out of sight just as the voices reach us. Two women and one man, by the sound of it, and chatting in Punjabi. We watch them approachCandy Crushman, who unlocks the shutter for them, rolls it up a few feet, and lets them into the unit.

“Well, I’m guessing that’s the ‘talent’,” Beck observes. “So, they’re in business. Lights, camera, action.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Rome muses, regarding the so-called guard through a pair of night goggles. “We could do with getting our hands on that phone.”

“You’re fancying a game ofCandy Crush?” Tony enquires.

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