First stop was Giurgiu. As one of the main Danubian ports and on the border with Bulgaria, it was an ideal location. Confidence was running high because earlier that year, the former Chief of Police for Varna had fled Bulgaria and based himself just inside the Romanian border, not far from Giurgiu. Having been a close ally of Emilio Arroz and Nikki Williamson, the coincidence was too great to ignore.
If Giurgiu was to prove a dead end, they would head towards Reşiţa, northwest of Giurgiu and close to the Serbian border. Getting there would be painful with no motorway connection. However, from Reşiţa, there was a good road network into Serbia, or even a little further north into Hungary.
Their third stop, if necessary, would be Arad, a little further north from Reşiţa, close to the Hungarian border with a good road network both to Hungary and back to Serbia. Finally, if none of those three facilities revealed anything, they would head towards Hunedoara in central Romania.
Despite Cezar’s advice to rest during the journey, which would be dull, Rob was far too restless; his adrenaline had started to pump in anticipation of a new adventure. Soon, however, Rob fully understood Cezar’s advice: the road was mostly straight with flat, uninteresting fields on both sides as far as the eye could see.
As they entered the outskirts of Giurgiu, Cezar turned left on the ring road, joining the traffic heading for the bridge over the Danube and into Bulgaria. Well before the bridge, Cezar turned off. “Nearly there,” he announced.
A few minutes later they were driving down a narrow road. Foliage from unmaintained trees and bushes grew over concrete slab walls, partially obscuring the apparently derelict buildings of their first location. Most of the windows were missing. Strands of rusted barbed wire ran along the top of the wall.
“Here we are,” Cezar commented, slowing down to look.
“I can’t believe that anything can go on inside there,” Rob remarked. “Creating the right environment to do anything would surely be impossible.”
“I’d agree. It looks worse close-up than from the satellite photos! I can’t imagine how you could do any work of any sort in there,” Cezar agreed.
“That may be the case, but I’ve already seen two people watching us,” Nat said, his special forces training helping him spot things that most people would miss.
As they passed the closed entrance gates, two guards were visible in the near derelict gate house, heads down as though playing a game. “They aren’t expecting visitors,” Laura observed. “But the gates are definitely being used. So what’s the plan?”
“We turn round and knock on the door,” Cezar replied, waving an envelope in one hand. “The Warrant is in here. Just turning up should be a good indicator of whether anything untoward is going on!”
“Err, no!” Nat said sharply. “Please keep driving.”
“What do you have in mind, Nat?” Laura asked.
“Well, from the satellite photos there are cars parked down by the canal. We could join them. If this is the real thing and we cause panic, we could risk them detonating the chemicals, which in any quantity would be disastrous for the entire city!”
“Including us!” Rob reminded them.
”So what’s the plan?” Cezar asked.
“We walk along the canal, hop over the wall and have a look around. The photos showed overgrown areas that will provide cover. First stop, I suggest, is to check out the storage tanks.”
* * *
Getting over the head-height wall presented few problems and soon they were crouching behind some dense foliage. They could all see the storage tanks rising above the bushes and trees that had grown with abandon. “They look a little bashed about, but sound enough,” Rob whispered, anticipation growing with every second.
As Cezar started to move forward, Nat held him back, pointing quietly. A scruffily dressed man with a few days’ facial hair walked round the corner of a building carrying a small sub machine gun loosely in one hand. While waiting for the man to disappear, they all looked at each other with knowing looks – something was definitely going on.
A few minutes later, they crept forward, branches and the occasional thorn pulling at their clothes. Once at the tanks, Nat and Cezar set about inspecting them for signs of recent usage. Working their way along the pipes that led from the buildings in the distance, they tried to twist the valves for operability, but to no avail.
“Those I checked are beyond use,” Cezar whispered once they had regrouped.
“Same here,” Nat confirmed. “If this is our place, then the chemicals are being stored elsewhere.”
“Regardless of whether it’s not our place, or not, something is going on and we have to find out what,” Laura whispered.
They crept further forward and came to a narrow concrete roadway, the main building on the other side. One by one they dashed across without any reaction. So far, so good.
Desperately aware of how exposed they were should another guard appear, Nat kept them moving, crouched below the level of the windows, until they were gathered beside the only visible door. He cautiously stood up and peered through a window – the space inside was baron, dirty and scraps of rubble and other debris scattered about.
After a quick inspection of the door, Nat placed his shoulder against it and forced it open. Inside everyone stood looking around while Nat reviewed the door frame to check for sensors. “So far, so good,” he commented, his voice carrying eerily in the vacant space.
“This way,” urged Cezar, directing them to one end of the space where there were a number of doors. One door led to a deserted reception area with stairs leading up and down. Muffled voices rose from the basement and without a word Cezar led the way down, handgun drawn. The stairs were unlit and, except for a central path, covered with debris so they trod carefully to avoid making a noise.
At the bottom of the stairs light filtered through the gaps around two battered doors. Cezar stepped forward, looked through the small filthy glass panels and signalled Nat to do likewise.
Carefully, Nat then ushered everyone into a dark corner. “Listen-up. Looks like a huge holding centre for people smuggling. There are innumerable cells, mostly with young women in them. I saw three guards, each armed.” Nat paused to look at Cezar in the dim light that was cast through the glass panels.
“I will call for support. This looks huge and needs to be dealt with.”
“Quietly,” Nat urged.
“I’ll text.”
“What now?” asked Rob while Cezar sent his text.
“We find somewhere to hide out and wait for Cezar’s support,” Laura responded.
They had barely taken a step back up the stairs when a door slammed above them and more voices were heard.
“Bugger! We’ve got to go in,” Cezar cursed.
“No! We go up! We’ll have the advantage – they won’t be expecting anything and their eyes won’t have adjusted to the dark,” Nat replied sharply. “Call for the back up, now! You and Rob cover our backs from anyone coming from downstairs.”
Nat and Laura then scampered up the stairs to the half-landing, arms stretched out in front of them, handguns at the ready. Rob and Cezar took up positions either side of the dark doors, Cezar sending rapid texts to his colleagues.
