PART 9: Face-to-Face with the Enemy
I held my breath, flattening myself against the metal edge of the gallery. Down below, in the illuminated hall of the warehouse, stood Mrs. Kramer in an expensive coat, flanked by two large men in dark jackets. She looked completely different from how she had at the restaurant; her face was twisted with hatred and panic. "The police have grown suspicious," she snapped at the men.
"If this fails, we're all dead. Where is the child?" One of the men walked over to a wooden crate in the corner of the room and pulled out a small, pink bundle. My daughter. She moved, and I heard a very soft, crying sound that pierced straight through my soul. I wanted to jump down, but Lisa grabbed my wrist from the darkness and shook her head with a terrified look.
"Not now! They have guns!" she whispered hoarsely. Down below, Mrs. Kramer took the bundle from the man's arms. She didn't look at it with love, but with the gaze of a merchant inspecting a valuable prize. "The boat is ready at pier three. Make sure the papers are signed as soon as we're on board," she snapped. She turned around to head for the back exit leading to the quay.
That was our only chance. Lisa and I crept across the metal catwalk toward the stairs on the other side of the warehouse. But just as I placed my foot on the first step, the rusted stair gave way under my weight with a loud, creaking metal sound that echoed throughout the entire empty space. Down below, it went dead silent. Every eye shot upward to the dark ceiling.
