I arrived at the location the agent had directed me to.
Getting out of my car, I approached the abandoned Burger King. Its walls were crumbling, the sign barely legible—years of neglect had taken their toll. I pushed the door open, the rusty hinges groaning in protest, and sat in one of the booths. The stale air smelled of mildew.
I waited.
A distant door slammed shut. My pulse quickened. I stood and cracked the door open just enough to see.
An older man, maybe in his late 30s, stepped in. He wore a black jacket and glasses, his movements deliberate but calm.
This had to be Henry.
I stepped out, walking toward him with my hand extended. He took it in a firm handshake. "Follow me," he said, motioning toward his car.
Once inside, he handed me a photo.
"Who's this?" I asked.
Henry's voice was steady, almost detached. "That's the man you're looking for—the head honcho."
I studied the picture, committing the face to memory before snapping a photo of it with my phone.
One year later...
"Ray, we got a lead on the contractor!"
Henry's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I rushed to his computer. On the screen was a halt—an intercepted communication—from one of the contractor's allies, Dr. Ryan.
Henry grabbed the van keys, and I followed him as he jumped into the driver's seat.
We sped toward the location tied to the ally, an abandoned warehouse that loomed in the distance like a ghost.
Inside the van, Henry rummaged through a drawer and pulled out an earbud molded to fit my ear.
I frowned. "Why does this look like my ear?"
He shrugged. "We had a few made in case of moments like this."
I took the earbud and slipped it in, stepping out of the van and into the warehouse's shadowy depths.
Henry's voice crackled in my ear. "Ray, take the door on your left. It'll lead to the garage—that's where you need to be."
I moved cautiously, my steps echoing in the cavernous space.
In the garage, a man in a sharp suit stood addressing a crowd of gang members. I kept my distance, observing from the shadows.
The man finished speaking and began walking toward me. I ducked under a nearby car, holding my breath as his polished shoes passed inches from my hiding spot.
He climbed into the car above me and started the engine.
Henry's voice buzzed in my ear. "Ray, find out where he's headed."
"On it," I replied.
I crept toward another gang member's car. Its alarm blared when I opened the door, the sound ricocheting through the warehouse.
Chaos erupted.
I quickly climbed into the backseat of the car, hiding under a pile of bags. Moments later, the driver jumped in, started the engine, and sped off.
Relief washed over me until I realized I'd made a sound—just enough to give myself away.
The driver froze.
I pulled my gun and pressed it against his temple. "Drive to the stop sign and don't make me regret sparing your life."
I radioed Henry. "Got one of the gang members. He's driving me out now."
Henry responded, "Good. I'm on my way."
I turned to the driver, pressing the gun harder. "Where is your boss?"
"I don't know!" he stammered.
"Wrong answer."
I leaned closer. "I know you're his right-hand man. Tell me where he is, or Henry will make your life a living hell."
The man spat in my face.
Big mistake.
I pistol-whipped him unconscious and climbed into the front seat. After removing the car keys, I popped the hood and unhooked the battery to ensure he couldn't escape.
Leaning against the car, I lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply as I waited for Henry.
Minutes later, Henry pulled up in the van.
He stepped out, eyeing the unconscious man. "Who's this?"
"The contractor's right-hand man," I replied.
Henry raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"
I tapped the bags in the backseat. "They're stuffed with coke and cash. That's not random—it's a trust package. Only someone close to the boss would carry that."
Henry still looked skeptical. "That doesn't mean he's necessarily the right-hand man."
I smirked. "You're not from here, are you?"
He shook his head.
I took another drag from my cigarette. "Where I'm from, trust runs deep. The right-hand man is given part of the profit. It's a sign of loyalty. We know they won't snitch or betray us."
Henry frowned. "That's a risky way to trust people."
I exhaled smoke and shrugged. "That's just how it works."
A banging sound came from the car.
Our captive had woken up.
I crushed the cigarette under my boot and handed Henry the keys.
"Your turn, partner."
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