Chapter 8 - THE DARK STORAGE HALL
Gunfire did not begin immediately.
That was worse.
Darkness.
Silence.
The faint hum of emergency lights failing one by one.
Dante pushed Khloe behind the concrete column.
“Stay.”
She almost laughed.
“Original.”
Paulie moved toward the hallway.
Dante stopped him.
“Back exit?”
“Locked.”
“Fire door?”
“Alarmed.”
“Good.”
Khloe whispered:
“Why good?”
“Because alarms bring police.”
“You like police now?”
“Tonight.”
Then footsteps.
Multiple.
Slow.
Dante drew a gun.
Khloe hated how naturally it appeared.
Then he looked at her.
“Can you run?”
“Yes.”
“If Paulie opens the fire door, go.”
“What about you?”
“Not your problem.”
That annoyed her.
Maybe because it was exactly what she had said earlier.
Then the first shot cracked.
Concrete chipped.
Paulie returned fire.
Dante moved.
Khloe stayed low.
No graphic chaos.
Just noise.
Then fire alarm.
Paulie had reached the door.
Sirens began outside.
Salvatore’s men withdrew faster than expected.
They were not there for a war.
They were there for documents.
One attacker remained trapped behind a storage row.
Paulie disarmed him.
Police sirens approached.
Dante made a decision.
He did not execute the man.
Khloe noticed.
He handed the weapon to Paulie.
“Leave him for police.”
Paulie looked surprised.
So did Khloe.
Dante said:
“Marco told me not to burn the city.”
Small change.
Then they escaped through the fire exit before police arrived.
“Is that legal?” Khloe asked.
“No.”
“At least you’re consistent.”
In the car, Dante’s technician photographed the ledger pages and sent copies to independent counsel.
Not only Varga lawyers.
Why?
Because Dante had finally accepted something.
The trafficking network could not be solved privately.
Too many victims.
Too many jurisdictions.
Too many records.
If he tried to handle it as mafia revenge, evidence would disappear.
So attorneys prepared controlled disclosure to federal investigators.
Khloe stared at him.
“You’re giving the government your own shipping records?”
“Some.”
“That could hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“Then why?”
His face tightened.
“Because there are names in those boxes that should never have been cargo.”
That answer changed something.
Not enough.
Something.
Then Paulie received a call.
Jared had been found.
Not dead.
At an urgent care clinic outside Tacoma.
Broken knee.
Obviously.
He had given a fake name.
Then disappeared before anyone could question him.
But surveillance caught his vehicle.
Heading toward one location.
Khloe recognized it.
“My apartment.”
Dante looked at her.
“What would he want there?”
She thought.
Nothing.
Then remembered.
Three months earlier, Jared had shown up during the night.
Begged to talk.
She refused.
Later she found the outside vent cover loose.
She assumed he had tried entering.
“What?”
Dante asked.
Khloe swallowed.
“I think he put something in my apartment.”
They arrived with police? Better through lawyer/security. Could use local authorities because break-in. Let's say building manager and her lawyer.
With the building manager and Khloe’s attorney on video, they entered.
Nothing obvious.
Then Paulie checked the vent.
Inside:
A small waterproof pouch.
Passport.
Cash.
Memory card.
And one photograph.
Khloe with Dante.
Taken outside the hotel after the restaurant incident.
Recent.
Salvatore’s people had been watching her from the moment she crawled under Dante’s table.
On the back:
SHE’S HIS WEAKNESS NOW.
Khloe stared at Dante.
“We barely know each other.”
Dante looked angry.
“Salvatore doesn’t need truth.”
He turned the photograph over.
“He needs leverage.”
Then Khloe noticed the passport.
Not Jared’s.
Her own.
She had never lost it.
May you like
Except this one had her picture and another name.
KHLOE VARGA.
