The Gun in Front of Him

Part 2

Hours later, Wayne had shaken off the encounter and was out on night patrol. It felt good to be free of polite society. The city at night was getting more comfortable for him. There were fewer people to deal with, less time required to deal with them and conversation was minimal.

Wayne knew he would find action if he looked in the right places. The incongruous light in the warehouse window had practically beckoned him. It was a large, bland complex with multiple metal roll-up doors in front, all of them shut. That left the office at the far end of the building. Wayne found the door unlocked and the office unoccupied.

Creeping in, Wayne heard breathing and discovered a tied-up security man unconscious in a closet. His instincts confirmed, Wayne's mind snapped to its usual parameters: "How many? Armed? Will I have to take any of 'em out with my gun?"

Moving slowly along an interior corridor, Wayne could hear noise and hushed voices coming from the storage bay at the end of it. He saw the door ajar and peeked in: no one was guarding it. There were huge wooden shipping crates all over the floor, some stacked five-high.

Wayne made it a quarter of the way round the perimeter while listening to wood straining and breaking under pressure, followed invariably by frustrated cries of "not this one!" Climbing partway up a stack of five crates, Wayne gained a concealed view of the action on the warehouse floor.

Four men and their crowbars looked into crates. Looking for what, Wayne wondered. He could see the crates already opened held Asian antiques - Chinese fans, musical instruments and toys - but the men showed no interest in these. They were after something, but didn't know which crate it was in. Bad planning, thought Wayne.

One of the thieves moved right under the stack Wayne was hiding behind to open a single crate on the floor. With the thief's head cast downward for the task, Wayne could not believe the opportunity. Although he preferred to learn more by waiting, he decided he would have no better advantage than now; taking the initiative, catching the thieves off-guard. He could always interrogate them later.

There was just enough overhang on the top-stacked crate for Wayne's right hand to get under it. He pushed up, slowly, getting his other hand under it as well. He bobbed, counted silently to three, then strained mightily to give the crate the heave-ho, tipping it over. As he jumped away - landing in a roll and tumbling silently out of sight - he heard a scream, a big crash and an anti-climactic moan.

Crouching behind a three-crate stack, Wayne saw the crate he tipped over on the ground with part of an unmoving thief under it. The crate had burst apart, scattering dozens of Buddha statuettes - serene and meditative, casting no judgments - across the floor of the warehouse. White powder in bags ruptured by the impact spilled out of several broken Buddhas.

Two of the toppled thief's accomplices came over to the scene of "the accident," but instead of helping their fallen associate, they started collecting Buddhas. They called to the fourth man, "Harry," to help them. Instead, cautious Harry hung back, staring suspiciously around the crates surrounding them.

Wayne had seen enough. He drew his gun and climbed over the top crate, jumping off just before Harry yelled, "Look out!" Wayne shot both overhead lights on his way down, allowing only an oblique sliver of moonlight angling in through the window to illuminate the bay. Landing on one of the thieves collecting Buddhas, he drove him headfirst to the floor, whacking him over the ear with the butt of his gun for good measure (causing permanent hearing loss). Moving to the second accomplice while holstering his gun, Wayne pummeled him into unconsciousness in under four seconds. He turned to the stunned Harry, who had stood and watched everything without moving a muscle.

Seeing himself in Wayne's sights, Harry made a belated break for the door. Wayne raced to cut him off, jumping on and diving off an opened crate edge to tackle Harry face down. Getting on top, Wayne frisked him thoroughly for weapons, finding none. He rolled Harry on his back, leaning in menacingly. In his late thirties, Harry recovered his senses and quickly realized his position.