The Hero Next Time: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 4)

Chapter Sixty: Sunny, Monday

The black Dodge Ram literally rammed its way through the rolling door of the warehouse. It sustained significant damage to its front bumper and hood, but the aluminum door was no match for the weight and momentum of the large pickup truck. The slats flew apart and into the air as if they were popsicle sticks.

The driver of the truck wasn't even injured from the crash, cocooned as he was in the marshmallow world of the airbags.

Sunny and the three cops weren't injured either, because they were behind the tailgate, running after the truck as it crashed through the door, and immediately crouched low and spread out around the truck, guns raised, looking for any threat.

Sunny's role was to look for Birinder, and he stayed low while he followed behind Tracey and Goncalves, as they'd prearranged with Naira, since he had no gun and needed more protection.

It was dark. The warehouse was large, its open interior too spacious to be lit fully by the work lamps, which acted like a beacon to the activity being performed there. It was tempting to focus on the beacon, but that was dangerous because he didn't know what lurked beyond its boundaries. The only noise, other than that of the idling truck, was the low drone of the generator powering the work lamps.

The three cops, no fools, immediately opened the doors of the truck and took cover behind them, motioning Sunny back inside, in the back seat. By this time, the airbags had deflated, and Joe tried to stay as low as he could behind the windshield with his bulk.

Their caution was unnecessary, at least at the moment. No shots rang out. It was quiet. Unnaturally quiet. Where was everybody? The only evidence anyone had been here were those work lamps over on their right.

"They could be bluffing," Tracey said sotto voce, as if he'd read Sunny's mind. "They might be taking cover in the dark somewhere, checking how many we are before they decide to either run or shoot."

"We need more light," Naira said.

"If we use flashlights, they'll be like a bullseye in this darkness," Goncalves said.

"I'll use the truck headlights and coast over to the work lamps," Joe said. "Birinder has to be over there."

"Good idea," Tracey said. "We'll stay behind the open doors and cover you."

They made an odd procession, each of them crouched behind a truck door, shuffling awkwardly forward on the poured concrete floor. Joe was smart enough to turn off the dome light that turned on automatically with the open door, so they didn't make themselves visible to any potential assailants; as it was, the headlights made them a good enough target.

"Okay, I think that's far enough!" Naira nee Bains called out, just as they made out her form in the light of the work lamps. "Any further and Birinder drops from a high height. You can't see him because he's hanging above me; we had him tethered to a cable while we were working on him." She pointed at something in her hand. "I press this button, the tether releases."

"Naira Sandhu?" Tracey called out. "I'm Detective Ian Tracey with the New Westminster Police Major Crimes Unit."

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you talking to me?" she called out. "There are too many Nairas here, I didn't want you to get confused."

"Fuck off, Naira, or whatever your real name is!" Naira shouted back. "I'm getting really tired of you! Where are your pals? Did they abandon you?"

"They have their guns trained on you right now, bitch!"

"They shoot at me, I'm putting one right in your centre of gravity, button or no button!"

"Not helpful, buddy," Goncalves hissed at her.