Page 207 - Hunter - The Vigil

Flesh Trade Pt IV

by Mike Lee

The address led them back into south Kensington, to an old wreck of a tenement
surrounded by derelict buildings and rubble-strewn lots. Jack killed the van’s lights a
couple of blocks early and eased slowly to the curb about 30 yards away. Barely a handful of
streetlights were working near the old tenement, and pools of deep shadow were plentiful.
“No way anybody’s living in that shithole,” Dean said, eyeing the building. The
ground-fl oor windows were boarded up, and most of the rest were little more than gaping
holes, letting in the freezing rain.
Vince tried to stifl e a yawn. It was almost 1:30 in the morning. “Somebody’s in
there,” he said, pointing at a trio of windows facing the street along the top fl oor.
They were covered by curtains — or bed sheets, for all Vince could tell — and backlit

by a dim, yellow glow.
Dean shook his head. “I don’t like this. Why would these guys use the same alias
to buy their hideout? I thought you said they were pros.”
“Who knows?” Gabreski shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t have a choice. They’re still
pretty new to this country. Building a good alias takes time and money. Karl, any idea

how long Lermontov’s owned the building?”
The reporter was sitting on the fl oor behind the driver’s seat with his laptop open
in his lap. He’d been typing steadily since they’d left Blackfriar’s. “Something like
three months. Dude bought the warehouse shortly afterward.”