McGuire flipped him off as they darted across, jumped in. Cross hit the gas, peeled out as the exit door bounced off the brick, Keane sweeping into the alley. He planted a couple rounds in the tailgate as they swerved around the corner, shot down the next street.
Cross wove through the labyrinth of back alleys and narrow streets, neon smearing across the wet cobblestones, jazz filling in the spaces between the thunder and the rain. He took the next left, headed for the bridge when a black SUV swung in behind them, grill dark.
McGuire looked out the back. “That’s gotta be one of Keane’s.”
Cross nodded. “On it. Buckle up.”
He hit the accelerator, picked up speed, threading the chassis between a carriage and a taxi — earning a round of horns and angry fists. He turned right, jumped the curb, then punched his way under an awning, fishtailing over a strip of grass, then onto the adjoining street.
Keane’s men followed, clipped the curb a bit too hard, rocked the entire vehicle to a halt just long enough that Cross snuck around the next corner, put some precious seconds between them.
Cross glanced in the rearview, met McGuire’s gaze. “We’ve got several blocks before the bridge. They’re raising it for a tug. If we can beat it, our friends will be stuck on this side.”
McGuire nodded. “And if we don’t?”
“Then, it’s a good thing we can all swim.”
“Glad we’ve got options.” He eased the ledger pages out of his pocket, handed them to Riven. “Let’s see if we got anything useful, in case we end up in the river.”
Riven placed them on her lap, gently peeling the delicate paper apart as McGuire snapped an endless stream of photos with his cell. Ink ran in wavy lines toward the edges of the pages,some of the words smeared into nothingness. Hints of smoke lifted off the surface, fuel stained across the bottom.
Riven traced the lines, flipping through the first couple. “I’ve got shipping grids with notations on the side along with Langley’s name and a senator Morrison.”
Patch coughed. “As in Ralph Morrison? The same asshole who lobbied for most of the missions run through Task Force Sentinel?”
“I guess. I’m not familiar with him, but I knew Herrera had a political connection. Makes sense the guy’s working both sides.”
“Is it enough to bury the bastards?”
Riven sighed. “It might convince the feds to launch a Rico case, but that’s it.”
She moved on to the next couple, whistled. “Looks likeMartillopre-filled Herrera’s side for the next rollout before he stashed it earlier tonight. We’ve got a shipment ofagricultural supplies, which is Herrera’s codeword for high-yield explosives, rolling out in five days.” She looked at McGuire. “If they think this entire ledger was burned…”
He grinned. “They’ll likely keep the scheduled run.”
“Which is another reason Keane’s here. Once Herrera’s men unload the shipment from their transport vessel into one ofMartillo’swarehouses, Keane will have it repacked into armored containers, likely with falsified DOT placards and fake bottoms — put just enough fertilizer on top to fool any cursory inspection. If we can verify the explosives are there, grab a copy of the manifests, and mark the boxes for tracking, we can have Savvy call in one of her secure teams.” She smiled. “Who knows, with all the chaos, we might even draw Langley here. All we need to know is which warehouse they’re using and…”
“We can burn them all.” McGuire palmed his personal cell, hit the button. “Hey, sis.”
Savvy breathed into the other side. “What part of ‘nice and quiet’ didn’t you understand? I’ve got the New Orleans’ fire department on scene, cops swarming the area, and helicopters broadcasting live aerial feed.” She huffed. “At least tell me you got the ledger.”
He sighed. “Some of it.”
Savvy groaned. “I’m not sure I even want to know what that means.”
“It means Keane showed up, and everything went sideways. But we’ve got their next shipment. It’ll be rolling into one ofMartillo’swarehouse in five days.”
“Interesting. Let me check a few things…” Her end went quiet for a moment, just the hum of their tires on the asphalt as Cross closed in on the bridge. “Unfortunately, all six of his warehouses have had regular movement. We’ll likely not know which one’s the exchange site until they arrive. That won’t leave you much time to adapt.”
“Then, it’s a good thing we’re well-practiced.”
She snorted. “Looks like you just bought yourselves a ticking clock. You need to get off-grid and stay dark. And I mean, stay dark. No contact until it’s time. I’ll keep watch. Call you if anything changes, otherwise, we talk in five.”
Savvy disconnected, a sudden void filling the cab.
Cross cleared his throat, glanced back at them. “So, is this a good time to tell you that the bridge is already starting to lift?”
McGuire coughed. “Say what?”