Johan's Joy (Heroes for Hire #22) - Dale Mayer Page 0,40

don’t know that anybody’s safe.”

“Well, he won’t stick around,” Tyson said. “That you can count on.”

“I hear you,” she said. “It just feels like everything took a giant leap backward. This isn’t what I wanted when I signed up for this job. And, when I contacted you, all I was concerned about was the fact that drugs could be on the street that could be dangerous.”

“There are drugs on the street that are dangerous,” Kai said quietly. “Even more now. But I suspect what we have here is a very sophisticated system of moving drugs through the company in a way that nobody knows about, except for a few select people.”

“And you think Barlow could have been one of them?”

“As the founder, he certainly could have been the one to set it up,” Tyson said, “but we don’t know that for sure.”

“Right,” she said. “Well, he’s dead now, so there’ll be a lot of changes at the company.”

“And again you have to consider the fact that you may not necessarily have a job.”

“Right. Although what does any of that have to do with me?”

“You’re the low man on the totem pole,” Tyson said. “If the board cuts the budget, that’ll be the first place where they’ll start—with the new hires—leaving the old-timers with seniority in place.”

“Great,” she said. “That doesn’t seem fair.” She stared grimly out the window. “I should be okay for a few months,” she said, “but I’ll have to get another job right away.”

*

“There,” Galen said. “Looks like somebody just went through one of the doors to the shipping yards.”

Johan walked to the laptop and took a closer look. “I’ll go down there,” he said. “Stay connected to my cell phone. You keep tracking our suspect and let me know when I’m getting close.”

“Will do,” Galen said. “We’ll have to tell the cops too.”

“We’ll tell the cops if and when we find something,” he said.

He stepped out of their small dingy office and headed in the direction of the door that had just opened and closed. It meant somebody was here, was still inside the building, and Johan wanted to know who it was and why they were here. If it was one of the cops, then the cops would have said something. Most likely anyway. But then again, it shouldn’t have been just one cop, and Galen or Johan should have seen somebody in uniform on the security feed. Instead, it was just a momentary blip on their security screen, noting the door had opened, and that was it. No chance to catch sight of anybody in the area. But then, as he remembered, not many cameras were down there.

He raced down the stairway and down to the hallway, going the long way around past the three locked doors and out to the small extra stairway that led up to the shipping dock. As he stopped there, he quickly texted Galen. I’m outside the shipping bays, coming from the B3 stairwell up to B2. Any sign?

No. But check out the east side of the building. Seems to be one of the side doors into the shipping bay. Yet looks like maybe it leads to an office.

I’ll check.

He pulled open the door and stepped inside. The shipping bay was in darkness, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He studied the layout, still seeing all the heavy equipment. The big bay doors were closed and locked, so the main part of the floor was empty, except for a tiny sliver of light on the far side.

He raced across and headed toward the office. He could see the light coming from the inside, and, with an ear against the door, he could hear a voice. But only one, so it was likely he was talking on the phone. He quickly sent a text message to Galen about it and got a quick reply.

You going in?

I am.

He turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

The shipping foreman looked up at him in shock and then anger. “What are you doing here again?” he snapped.

“I told you that we would be here this weekend,” he said mildly.

The foreman stood, his hands on his hips. “Everything’s fucking changed now,” he said.

“Why is that?”

“I’m sure you know about the dead guy here.”

“You mean the owner of the company? And how did you know about him so soon?”

“The police scanned my truck’s license plates, sitting out on the lot here. The cop called me, demanding to know what I’m doing here. Telling