Page 99 of More Than Nothing
“I don’t speakallthe languages. Just a few useless bits and pieces. Who are we meeting and where do they come from?” Frank didn’t answer. “What the fuck?” Elenie mouthed at Dean, who just shrugged.
She’d be lucky to hear anything through the driving rain anyway.
She pulled her hood up over her head as they all climbed out of the truck. Within seconds, it was soaked through. Rivulets of icy water ran down the side of her neck. A stocky guy emerged from the depths of the open lockup, wheeling a dolly stacked high with boxes and protected by a clear plastic sheet. He had a mustache that looked like it had been bought online.
Frank stepped inside, out of the rain, and two more men appeared. They all gathered around the dolly. Frank lifted the plastic, picked up one of the boxes and opened it. Hanging back with Dean by the cab of the truck, Elenie craned her neck but couldn’t see any better.
Was Frank collecting something? Buying something? Checking something out?
The mini digital recorder Dorsey had given her sat uselessly in her drawer at home. It wouldn’t have been much good even if she’d had it to hand, as the pounding rain on the lockup roof drowned out much of the conversation. Tense and wet through, Elenie tried to take in and remember as much as she possibly could, even as she wished she was anywhere but here.
“How many?” Frank asked.
“Two hundred and fifty.” Although the taller of the two men spoke with a heavy accent—maybe Turkish, maybe not—there was clearly no need for a translator. He wore a bright orange and black North Face jacket which looked enviably warm. Frank grunted. They both took out their phones; blunt fingers tapped for a few seconds. Then they waited. The silence wasn’t a comfortable one, the atmosphere oppressive. Dean fidgeted. Elenie, sweaty andfrozen at the same time, watched the rain soak through her sneakers as the puddles around her feet grew.
“Done,” said Frank.
North Face nodded, his eyes still on the phone in his hand. Another minute went by. “OK,” he said finally, and pocketed his cell.
At a signal from Frank, Dean climbed into the Dodge and backed it up to the open lockup. Frank unclipped and folded back the tarp covering the cargo bed. “Get over here,” he growled at Elenie.
When she stepped forward, she felt the gaze of all three men turn to her. Six eyes, flat and blank like a trio of dead fish, ran over her from face to feet. Frank shoved an armful of boxes into her hands. They were all identical—white, new and glossy, images of games console controllers on the outsides.
Dean climbed up onto the back of the truck and reached toward her. She passed the boxes to him and he began to stack them. There would clearly be no help offered from the other men. They moved swiftly, trying to get everything under cover and out of the rain as soon as possible. Between Frank and Elenie, the dolly was empty within a quarter of an hour. Dean jumped down and began to fix the tarp on all sides.
“Yilmaz can reach you on the usual number?” North Face asked. Frank nodded. “He’ll be in touch about distribution. You hold the stock until then.”
“My cut will be higher if I’m expected to cross state lines.” There was a tense stare-down for ten seconds or so, before North Face gave an infinitesimal shrug of questionable agreement. Frank seemed happy to take it at face value.
One of the other men said something Elenie couldn’t hear. The water was dripping from her chin now. More nodding, no further conversation, and apparently they were done. Frank climbed intothe truck, so much dryer than either Dean or herself. They were going to steam up the cab before they reached the end of the road.
As they pulled away, Elenie twisted to look over her shoulder. The guy with the mustache was reaching for the mechanism to bring down the roller shutter. There were no visible numbers on the lockups; they all looked the same. It wouldn’t make it easy to pinpoint the location for Dorsey.
Suddenly all hell broke loose.
“Fuck!” Frank hit the brakes so hard Elenie’s seat belt bit into her shoulder as she whipped her eyes back to the windshield. She threw out a hand to brace herself on the dash. Dean choked on an inhale beside her.
A swarm of cars—eight, nine?—appeared out of nowhere, some marked, some not. Menacing in their number, chilling in their velocity, they skidded to a halt, blocking the truck on all sides. Water sprayed from sliding tires.
Police officers spilled out, each of them heavily armed. Everyone was shouting something different—commands, instructions, warnings. The noise, even over the pouring rain, was deafening.
Frank was dragged from the driver’s seat, Dean from the passenger side. Then someone grabbed Elenie’s arm.
It was almost impossible to make out individual words as officers shouted across officers. Rough hands pushed Elenie to the ground in a puddle of surface water, the concrete grating on her bare knees, wet gravel against skin. Stones bit into her shins. Exhaust fumes and confusion hung heavy in the air.
Someone yelled, “Put your hands on your head!” so close to her temple that it rang in her ears and she instinctively cowered.
Her lungs forgot how to do their job, short, strangled gasps escaping from her lips. Dean caught her eye, his face blanched, mouth slack. She couldn’t see Frank on the other side of the Dodge.North Face and his two companions, all on their knees, were surrounded by more officers.
Behind each car crouched policemen with weapons, covering their colleagues. Elenie was staring into the business end of firearms on all sides. Black, sinister, terrifying. Her eyes darted from one vehicle to the next; she recognized no one. There was no sign of Dorsey. Even Booth’s mistrustful face would have been a comfort amid the sea of chaotic intimidation churning around her.
Two men in plainclothes climbed onto the back of Frank’s truck. One unfastened a corner of the tarp and they both crouched down out of sight. The ratchet of steel around Elenie’s right wrist sent a wash of pre-emptive claustrophobia through her. Then both hands were wrenched down behind her back and her wrists were cuffed together. She swayed, off-balance, light-headed and trembling with cold, confusion, and terror.
This couldn’t be down to her. Dorsey had made no mention of a raid in their brief conversation last night, and Frank had sprung this collection of his on Elenie without warning. The data from Frank’s cell was still on the device in its sock hideaway, inside her bag. She didn’t have her DEA phone with her, but she did have the one Roman had given her the other day.
Keep steady, stay strong, she told herself.This can all be sorted out.But the full-body tremors that gripped her muscles refused to listen.
There was one thing Elenie knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. Games console controllers didn’t demand this kind of police interest.
