Throw In The Dice

Chapter 4

We were greeted in London by a dark, chilled, overcast sky that was pattering down rain at a slow but steady rate, just enough to make anyone still out at midnight frustrated and miserable.

As we unboarded, a sleek silver car pulled up next to the plane and popped the trunk open for Mason to throw his guns into. I checked my inboxes for any messages that came through during the flight over the Atlantic. Inboxes, plural, because having just one would be criminally incompetent and endangering.

Having been on a plane for seven hours, I was getting restless, and needless to say, that meant I wanted to cause some chaos first hand. I thought over my options from Dmitri's last update. Murder, bribes, arson...

[Do you have anything that needs to get done? I need to do something.] I texted him. My fingers tapped the armrest, waiting for a response. My phone buzzed again within the minute.

[Family member wants relative dead for inheritance, who got rich through money laundering and real estate. Just came through. Need anything?]

[Yeah, where's the best abandoned warehouse around here?] I asked, pausing for a moment. A slightly psychotic idea was formulating in my head. Quickly typing out a second message, I thought for a second before hitting send. [And where can I get the most gasoline?]

[Lloyd's Machinery Packing Co., Brickfield Road. Should take about a half an hour to get there. There's a gas storage place past it. Navigator Terminals.]

I typed in the address to see whereabouts it was. With that last piece of information, I looked over the top of the car at Mason, who raised his eyebrows as if to say, What the hell are you planning now? Whatever you're about to do, tell me.

[Tell that rich guy to be at that warehouse at 5 am. Got something for him. And tell someone at the terminal to meet us there with a bucket.]

I grinned at him, opening the car door and climbing in. "Navigator Terminals.", I told the driver, before sitting back and grinning at Mason, who was in the process of getting in the vehicle. At that moment, I was purely fueled by adrenaline and restlessness.

"You look like you're about to do something insane."

"How do you feel about stealing a gas tanker?", I chuckled.

"Yep, insane.", he sighed, dropping his hand onto the seat. "You know, the light from your phone makes you look even more crazy."

"You know I get restless sometimes. Mix that with random urges and psychopathy and you get me."

We sat in silence for the rest of the journey over. As soon as the car stopped, I pulled out my phone and checked for surveillance, looping their feed to cover us. I hopped out of the car onto the wet pavement once I was sure the cameras were diverted, Mason jumping out and jogging after me.

The courtyard was illuminated by security lights decorating the wet ground with little sparkles, the rain visibly falling around the orange and white lights. The smell of rain mixed with the breeze off the river and a hint of petroleum washed over me before fading into the background. It was perfectly quiet except for the small drops of water hitting the ground and the electric hum of the lights and machinery. I grabbed Mason and dragged him in the direction of the storage units, seeing the trucks parked nearby.

When we reached the LPG trucks, I tapped on the side of one and listened to the resonation. It sounded with a metallic, hollow, empty echo, meaning it was empty. I grinned, probably slightly manically, at Mason, who was already picking the lock on the driver side door, holding a small flashlight in his mouth. He made quick work of it before yanking the door open.