Identity - Rewritten

Chapter Thirty-Nine

May 2014

The night is eerily silent for the Bronx.

Despite the occasional car alarm, Ian hasn't heard much activity on the street that he followed Ace to, and that in itself if enough to send chills up his spine. The night air is unusually cool for early May, and Ian can feel the breeze dancing across his raised goosebumps.

He told himself when he saw Ace enter the run-down warehouse he's standing in front of that he would wait a full minute before following him inside, and he's certain he's reached that threshold by now, so he tentatively reaches out his hand to the metal door knob. It's icy under his fingers, and he pulls it slowly: Ace didn't fully shut the door in its frame, and it opens without a sound.

Ian shuts the door behind himself, ever so slowly, and assesses the large, open room he's in. It looks as though there's not much happening on the ground floor, and it's only got a few chairs and tarps, as well as a fold out table pressed against the right wall, covered in tools and grease. A few junkers sit against the far wall, maybe 50 feet away, and Ian recognizes the warehouse for what it is: an old, run-down garage.

He can hear voices floating down from upstairs, but he can't make out the words, so he turns to the staircase at his left and takes it one step at a time, listening out for the voices. Ian finds a spot on the staircase where he can't be seen but can hear them; it's just below the turn of the staircase, and if he bends just right, he can see Ace in profile, facing someone else.

"None of that matters now... flash drive," Ace says, voice gravelly and cold. Ian can't make out all of the words, but he can hear just enough to understand the gist.

Then the other person is speaking, but they're too far away: Ian can make out a higher-pitched, more feminine voice, but the intonations and words are lost on him. She stops speaking, and there's a pause, and then Ace continues, "I know that. Look... so far, and we can't... just a little longer. I... control."

The woman speaks again, and Ian can't help but feel like something about her voice is achingly familiar: but he brushes that off. It's the second time he's felt that way tonight.

"Look, we'll... later. For now... Tommy... I'll be back." The words themselves mean nothing to Ian for one, slow second, and then the world snaps back into focus: Ace is walking back toward the staircase. Ian jumps over the railing to his right and hits the ground on light feet. He dives out of sight under the last set of stairs; Ace's feet echo on the metal steps above him, and then he comes to a stop at the bottom. Ian freezes, holding his breath, and hears a jangling sound: Ace pulling his keys from his pocket. Then he's off again, closes the heavy door with a loud thump.

Cautiously, Ian pokes his head out from his hiding spot, but Ace is gone and the women whom Ian assumes to be his boss must still be upstairs.

Across the room, Ian sees a door that he hadn't noticed before, unassuming and coated in rusted metal. It seems to be the only other door on this level. Slowly and quietly, Ian slinks toward the door, and glances back when he reaches it to confirm that he's out of sight of anyone on the next floor.

The door squeaks the tiniest bit and he opens it, and he freezes: there's no movement from upstairs. Ian lets out a shaky breath, and opens it just wide enough for his body. He slips through to find himself at the top of a dimly-lit concrete staircase. The one bulb illuminating the space is flickering, and he can just barely see about twenty steps down, where the hall curves sharply to the right.

Carefully, Ian makes his way down the concrete stairs, and he goes slowly and quietly in case there are any unfavorable people waiting for him at the bottom.