Chapter 863
“Let’s go,” Skye said. “Before whoever dumped him there comes back to finish the job.”
The drive to the Hayes Junkyard was a journey into the city’s rotting gut. The skyscrapers faded, replaced by skeletal factories and fences topped with razor wire.
Skye sat in the back of the armored SUV, the Sapphire in one pocket and the Ruby in the other. They felt like hot coals against her hip.
“Why would they dump Parker here?” Felix asked from the driver’s seat, his eyes scanning the mirrors. “If they wanted to kill him, they would have done it in Nevada.”
“Because he’s a message,” Skye said, her stomach churning. “Or a Trojan Horse. We need to be careful.”
The SUV rolled through the rusted gates of the junkyard. It was a labyrinth of crushed cars stacked three stories high, creating canyons of twisted metal. The rain turned the dirt ground into a slurry of oil and mud.
It was silent. Too silent.
“Lights off,” Alistair ordered.
Felix killed the headlights. They rolled forward through the gloom, tires crunching over broken glass.
“There,” Lucian whispered, pointing.
No𝗏e𝗅𝘀 іn 𝘁𝗋е𝗻d o𝗇 𝗀𝖺ln𝗈ve𝗅ѕ.с𝗼𝘮
In the center of the yard, beneath the arm of a massive magnetic crane, a figure lay curled in the mud.
Skye opened the door before the car had fully stopped.
“Skye, wait!” Alistair hissed.
She ignored him. She ran toward the figure. “Parker!”
The figure jerked. Parker rolled over, covered in grime, his eyes dilated and wild. He looked terrified.
“Don’t!” Parker croaked, his voice raw. “The coordinates… the numbers… they won’t stop scrolling…”
Skye skidded to a halt. “Parker, it’s me. Where is Victoria?”
Parker blinked, tears mixing with the rain on his face. “Gone. Separated at the airstrip. They put her on a different plane. I don’t know where.” He clutched his head. “The Diamond… Arthur’s logs… I saw them in the data stream…”
A red laser dot appeared on Parker’s chest.
“Sniper! On the crane!” Alistair tackled Skye, driving her into the mud behind a stack of tires.
Crack.
A bullet sparked off the metal rim inches from Skye’s head.
“Three o’clock!” Felix yelled, returning fire.
Skye scrambled up and peered through the gap in the tires. Parker was frozen with his hands over his head, mumbling numbers to himself.
“Get him!” Skye yelled.
Alistair moved like a blur. He sprinted across the open ground in a zigzag, another shot kicking up dirt at his heels. He dove, rolled, and grabbed Parker by the collar of his trench coat, dragging him behind the chassis of an old bus.
“Are you hit?” Alistair barked.
“My brain is itching,” Parker stammered, his eyes unfocused. “Container 459. The Blue Mustang. It’s preserved — Arthur paid the rent.”
“Shut up.” Alistair checked him. “Clean.”
Skye and Lucian laid down covering fire, suppressing the sniper on the crane.
“We need to move!” Lucian yelled. “They’re flanking us!”
Shadows moved at the edges of the yard. Mercenaries.