The next thing they knew, the train came to a stop.
Outside, they heard shouting, metal clanking, and the rumbling of the container as the truck drove off the train bed and onto the road. Sam and Remi gripped the door and seat back, grateful that the Ghost offered a measure of safety. Twenty minutes later, the truck stopped, started backing up. When it came to a rest, something heavy hit the top of the container, metal grinding against metal. The box shifted, and was suddenly lifted.
“We’ll be fine,” Sam said, with bravado.
“You seem awful sure of yourself.”
“We’re sitting in a car worth thirty-two million dollars. You really think they’re going to let anything happen to it?”
The sensation was similar to being in an elevator, quickly rising, then lowering to the ground. “Careful!” came a shout, and their descent slowed, the landing so gentle that they barely noticed. “Leave it there, boys!”
“I believe,” Sam whispered, “we’ve arrived.”
75
Silence surrounded them once more. “How’s this blaze of glory going to work?” Remi whispered. “The moment they open this container and move the pallets, they’re going to pull the canvas off and see us.”
Sam was already rethinking the plan. The only reason they hadn’t been discovered the first time was that the Ghost had already been strapped down for shipping, and they didn’t need to check it carefully. “We need somewhere to hide . . .”
“There’s nothing in here. Only the car and the false front—”
“That, Remi, is brilliant.”
“I love being brilliant. But how is that going to help?”
“They’re hollow,” he said, shining his flashlight on the boxes. “Come on.” He gave the light to Remi, shoved his knife in at the top right corner of a box about waist height, carefully slicing down at the edge, around the bottom, up to the top left corner, turning that side of the box into one large flap, revealing the empty space within. “You’re hiding in here.”
“That box isn’t big enough.”
“Not yet, but it will be . . .” he said, leaning into the now-open carton and slicing open the bottom of it as well as the top of the box beneath it. “In you go.” He pushed the large flap aside and helped Remi climb in. She squatted down, pulling the flap closed. He’d kept his cuts to the very corners and edges. Satisfied that as long as anyone didn’t look too close, they wouldn’t see. He repeated the process with the second pallet. Grabbing his backpack, he dropped the knife inside, climbed in, carefully pulling his flap closed. And it was none too soon, judging by the voices he heard coming from outside. Sam drew his gun when he heard the container being opened. This was the moment. If the cut boxes were noticed, he and Remi wouldn’t survive, once they were discovered . . .
“Get that forklift over here,” someone shouted.
An engine revved, Sam shifted suddenly as the prongs were inserted under the pallet at the base of the false front. As the pallet was pulled from the container, he could just make out the empty warehouse through the cut he’d made in the corner of the box. The vibration from the forklift as it drove the stack of boxes across the floor caused his carton flap to open. He grabbed it, pulling it closed, hoping his fingers weren’t visible as he held it shut. A moment later, his limited view suddenly darkened, and he realized the entire unit had been shoved up against the wall, blocking his and Remi’s flaps from opening.
“How’s the car?”
“Looks fine.”
“Let’s get that other pallet out of there. We’d better have that car out of there before Mr. Oren arrives.”
Sam and Remi could do nothing but sit and wait as the two men freed the Ghost from the container.
A cell phone rang. “Mr. Oren. It’s here . . . But it’s already out of the container . . . Right.” Sharp footsteps echoed across the warehouse, then, “Let’s close up the warehouse. Oren wants it to stay put until he gets here.”
“When?”
“Shouldn’t be too long. He took the train under the Channel. Now, hurry it up. I’d like a bite before we leave.”
Sam heard heavy footsteps receding as the men walked out. A door slammed shut, silence.
He pushed on the cardboard flap, but it hit the wall. It was too close. Holstering his gun, he pulled out his knife and sliced a new opening through the sides of the boxes until he was free. Sam saw that Remi couldn’t get out of her hiding place, either, and quickly sliced an opening for her.
The warehouse was empty except for the pallets, the shipping container, and the Gray Ghost. The car was a thing of beauty, unmatched by any vehicle save the more famous Silver Ghost. The two side-by-side overhead doors were operated by wall switches. To the right was the entrance door, with small window, and, beside it, an alarm panel on the wall, blinking red.
He turned on the phone and saw Selma had texted the address of Oren’s London area warehouse. He called the police, giving them the address that Selma had provided.
“That’s a large complex, sir. Can you narrow it down?”