Max has his laptop open with a map on the screen, with which he zooms into the address Heath gave him. He dials his phone and places it against his ear.
Alan answers. “Hello?”
“Alan, I've got a favour to ask.”
Alan is curt, “I don't recall you earning the right to ask for favours.”
“This is the last one.”
“What is it?”
“I think I know where Heath is.”
“So call it through and flood the place with police.”
“No I just want to check it first. In case it turns out to be nothing.”
“Enough Max. Where are you going?”
“It could be nothing. I don’t want to get…”
Alan interrupts. “You know how I knew that phone you had wasn’t yours? Because your wife told me. I had to hear from your wife that you had direct contact with your brother. We’ve worked together for almost a year and you still can’t stop lying to me. Lives have been lost. A little boy is dead and you still can’t stop lying.”
Max is almost inaudible when he says, “I meant to tell you.”
“When! How long was this going to go on before you got around to it?”
Max is silent.
Alan sighs and takes on a fatherly tone, “Mate, just stop, think. After everything, after all the things that blew up in your face because you let your brother get under your skin, do you just have to do it one last time?”
“I told my father I’d be the one to bring my brother in.”
Alan laughs, “You didn’t just say that did you? Don’t do this Max. Just let it go. Tell me where you think he is and I’ll call it through. Now’s the time you need to stay out of the way.”
Max feels like he’s going to lose this argument so hangs up.
Alan hangs up his phone and places it on the arm of the couch. He sits in the motel room he’s rented for his family while hiding from Max’s brother. His daughters are in the second bedroom, lying on their beds, playing on their phones.
Irene, sitting beside her husband, watches him as she waits for an explanation of the call he just finished. His stare is enough to put holes in the wall as he thinks about his young friend.
“What are you thinking?” Irene asks.
When it looks like he’s not going to respond at all, he says, “If Max does something as dumb as I think he’s going to - we’ll be moving back home shortly.”
“He’s not going to go and get himself killed is he?”
Alan stares into the distance as he considers his options. He grabs his phone and dials as he says to his wife, “I hope not.” As the phone connects he says to the person on the other end, “Earl. Alan. Our friend’s about to do something stupid.”
Hudson road is lined with warehouses. Some are bigger than others but all are old and falling apart even though most are still in use. Max drives slowly down the tree lined street checking each deteriorating building as he goes. They all have signs of life outside. If not smokers gathered at the communal areas then parking lots full of cars, or trucks parked in loading bays.
One warehouse at the far end of the street is markedly different though. It’s rusted, ageing and falling apart. Rusted nails let tin cladding fall to the ground leaving bare wooden framing in place of walls. The few parts built with brick are covered in graffiti. All windows are smashed.
The high fenced parking lot is gated and locked so Max pulls his car over and parks on the side of the road. He is dressed casually in a white t-shirt which does nothing to hide his large frame and it begins to show sweat spots - a result of both the heat of the day and his nerves. He hops out of the car and studies the building before him, taking a moment to adjust the revolver he has tucked into his jeans.
“Classy,” he says to himself. “Well, stretch the legs.”
Max hops through a gap in the chain link fence surrounding the property, avoiding the main entry and massive roller door at the front of the building, preferring to head around the side to find a discreet way in.