Caribbean Gold

CHAPTER FOUR

Alicia used her cellphone to pinpoint Healey’s exact location. Of course, the altercations must have happened in broad daylight, but she fancied a determined force might just get away with it. Barring gunshots, the commotion and sheer noise around the busy dockside would mask an awful lot of sound. A walk around the perimeter revealed relatively easy access to the place, and minimal security. The security office looked unmanned. Alicia began to wonder if this area might be a private storage facility.

Readying herself, she walked inside.

Soon among the containers and feeling safer. CCTV cameras were mounted on poles at all four sides of the compound, but if they were anything like the security office then they wouldn’t pose a problem. Of course, the criminal element might be using them — they’d be somewhat lax not to. But maybe they were obsolete. Alicia could only hope.

It took her twenty minutes to find the place where Healey had sent his text. Hundreds of containers surrounded her. No noise penetrated what felt like a metal maze, a blinding-hot partitioned box. She searched the area but found nothing save boot prints and what appeared to be dried blood.

Healey? Where are you? Show me a sign now.

Time ticked and stretched out, the waiting part of her journey now at an end. This was where she could act. This was where she could make a difference. But short of getting herself noticed and potentially in the same boat as her teammates, what the hell was she supposed to do?

Time still spilled away faster than sand through fingers. What state were her friends in by now? How long could they withstand the pressure? Were they even now sat inside one of these metal boxes, wasted, dehydrated, just wishing for help to arrive?

Alicia began to think more desperate alternatives as darkness appropriated the land.

For fuck’s sake, guys, do something!