Warm Storage

Part 1
Part 2
It's a gloomy day outside but that works to my advantage. I make my way to the storage unit and pick the lock. It takes me longer than it used to. Mainly because people have stopped depending on padlocks. They don't even use combination locks anymore. They're all about safes built into walls and banks now. Sometimes I wonder if criminals are becoming professionals or if the professionals are becoming criminals.

I lift the door and walk in, I hit the light switch on the wall and close the door behind me. I don't need anyone walking up and trying to make friends with me while I search this place. It doesn't take me long to find something. Every box, crate, suitcase and garbage bag has something. I thought I was tracking drug smugglers. That's not the case. These are clearly weapons dealers. Sure there's drugs here, not enough to take all these precautions. Weapons are the clear money magnet.

Pistols, shotguns, machine guns, ammunition, it's all here. The thing that scares me the most is the experimental stuff. Weapons with odd modifications, customized rounds. This stuff is designed to kill the first time, every time no matter what kind of protection you have. I need to get all this crap out of here, but I can't do it myself. A ledger lists different buyers, I tuck it in my pocket to go through later. Beyond that they don't leave much evidence. I grab a few rounds of ammunition for my personal stash. The rest of this stuff isn't necessary. Assault rifles, rocket launchers. If it was drugs, I'd just burn the storage unit and call it a day.

I make my way to a payphone a few blocks from the storage units. One thing about the storage units is they're usually in a shady area that still has a few payphones. I do something I hate doing. I call the police. I practice my best concerned citizen voice and make the call.

"911 what is your emergency," the woman on the other line answers lazily.

"I just saw a bunch of black men loading guns into a storage locker," that'll get her attention.

"Where at," she asks now fully invested.

"Down at storage mart on 67th."

"We're sending officers now."

"Please hurry, I think they're going to hurt someone. I'm going to stop them."

"NO SIR, don't go it could be dangerous," she says now in a panic.

I hang up the phone. I head into the gas station and grab a cup of coffee. Before I can enter my car I hear sirens from every direction headed towards the storage units.

To be continued....