Sam Marlowe's Arc

Chapter 4 of 14

Sam reached the cannery before dawn. It sat locked and dark. A guard slouched by the loading door, rifle across his knees. Two more walked the fence. Sam crouched behind a stack of crates and watched. He had the location. He couldn't get inside. Every minute he waited, the relic slipped further out of reach. He pulled out the phone in the alley booth and dialed the one man who solved locks and papers. Lysander answered on the second ring, calm as ever. "You found your cannery," Lysander said. "And now you can't open it." "Guards on every side," Sam said. "I need a way past them." "Then don't go past them. Go through the one door they don't watch." A pause. "Sit tight. I'm sending someone who can walk in the front." Sam didn't like the sound of that. He liked it less when she arrived. She came from the shadows on high heels, and the guards stopped breathing. Red hair fell over the horns. Wings folded tight against her back. Sam knew her by reputation. Scarlett Inferna. Mister Big's girl. The kind of woman a smart man crossed the street to avoid. She stopped beside Sam's crates without looking at him. "The elf sent me. He owes me now, not you." "Why help me at all?" Sam asked. "Mister Big wants the relic." She checked her nails. "I want him wanting less." She stepped into the light. The guard at the door stood fast, rifle forgotten. She said something Sam couldn't hear. The man's face went slack. He unhooked a ring of keys and handed them over. Then he walked off toward the fence like a sleepwalker, taking the other guards with him. Whatever she'd promised them, it led away from the door. "Two minutes," Scarlett said. "That's all they hold." Sam ran for the door and worked the keys. The third one turned. The lock gave. He shoved the heavy door inward and slipped through into the dark cannery. Inside, machines sat still under grey dust. Sam moved down a row of rusted vats. He found a back office, its window painted black. On the desk sat a small wooden model of a harbor, boats and piers carved fine. He knew at once it was no toy. This was the thing the bosses were killing over. He reached for it. The office phone rang. Loud. Once, twice. Sam froze. Someone knew the relic lived here. Someone was checking the line. He grabbed the model and turned. Through the black window, headlights swept the yard. Car doors slammed. Not police. Scarlett was already gone. The guards she'd led away were shouting now, awake again, pointing at the open door. Sam had the relic in his hands. He also had a building full of Mister Big's men between him and the street. The lock was open. So was the trap.