Chapter 9 - The Reno Rail Yard
The abandoned industrial rail yard on the industrial outskirts of Reno looked like a concrete graveyard swallowed by the freezing Nevada desert.
Rusted skeletal frames of freight cars loomed out of the swirling dust and sleet, their iron wheels half-buried in red dirt and gravel. A single flickering halogen streetlamp cast a long, sickly yellow pool of light over the central loading platform where a lone figure stood waiting beneath a black umbrella.
Ryan cut the diesel engine of his rented sedan fifty yards away, letting the vehicle coast silently to a stop behind a rusted shipping container.
He checked the weight of his Sig Sauer in his shoulder holster, stepped out into the freezing wind, and walked deliberately toward the center of the platform.
As he stepped into the light of the halogen lamp, the figure lowered the umbrella.
It wasn't an assassin.
It was Olivia.
She looked small and shivering, wrapped in a heavy wool coat, her face pale and stained with fresh tears. Her breath plumed in the freezing night air as she watched Ryan approach with wide, terrified eyes.
“You came,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Ryan stopped ten feet away, keeping his hands visible at his sides, his eyes scanning the surrounding shadows for snipers. “Where are they, Olivia? Where are the hard drives?”
“They don't have them anymore,” she sobbed, taking a hesitant step forward. “Ryan, I swear to God, I didn't know Vance was going to try to kill us. David thought we were just making a quick financial deal... he thought we’d take the money, pay off our debts, and move to Oregon. We didn't know it was treason.”
“Your husband framed me for a capital crime, Olivia,” Ryan said, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth. “He sold out my entire military record to an international syndicate. People died tonight. Federal agents died tonight. Your ignorance isn't an excuse anymore.”
“I brought something else,” she pleaded, her hands shaking as she reached into her deep coat pocket and pulled out a heavy, leather-bound journal. “This is Dad’s ledger. He kept meticulous notes of every single meeting with Marcus Vance over the last six months. Every bank routing number, every signature, every recorded conversation.”
Ryan stared at the book. “Why are you giving this to me?”
“Because the men who killed Callahan... they aren't done yet,” Olivia cried, looking frantically over her shoulder toward the dark rail cars. “Vance’s private security team isn't working for the government, Ryan. They’re a black-ops private contractor. They’re coming for all of us to tie up every loose end before sunrise.”
Before Ryan could answer, the sharp, distinct sound of a rifle bolt clicking home echoed from the top of a rusted crane towering thirty feet above the rail platform.
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“Get down!” Ryan roared, lunging forward and tackling Olivia to the gravel just as a high-velocity round slammed into the concrete platform where they had been standing, sending a fountain of white sparks flying into the dark air.
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