"What's worth guarding at an oil field depot?" Giordino asked.
"Why don't we find out?"
Pitt stepped over to the tool bin and rummaged through its contents. "Might as well look the part," he said, hoisting a sledgehammer off the rack and toting it over his shoulder. Giordino picked up a green metal toolbox and emptied its contents, save for a hacksaw and monkey wrench.
"Let's go fix the plumbing, boss," he muttered, following after Pitt.
The twosome marched into the open and toward the building's façade as if they owned it. The guard initially paid little attention to the two men, who, in their ragged coats and banged-up hard hats, looked like any other workers in the yard. But when they completely ignored his presence on the way to the smaller entry door, he snapped into action.
"Stop," he barked in Mongolian. "Where do you think you're going?"
Giordino did stop, but only to bend down and retie his shoelace. Pitt kept walking toward the door as if the guard did not exist.
"Stop," the guard yelled again, shuffling toward Pitt as his hand reached for his holster.
Pitt kept walking until the guard was only a step away, then he slowly turned and smiled broadly at the man.
"Sorry, no habla" Pitt said, shrugging his shoulders benignly.
The guard contemplated Pitt's Caucasian features and indecipherable phrase with a look of utter confusion. Then the blunt side of a green toolbox arced out of nowhere and struck him in the side of the head, knocking him cold before his body could hit the ground.
"I think he bent my toolbox," Giordino said huffily, rubbing a large dent on the end of the green case.
"Maybe he's got insurance. I think we might want to find a different resting place for Sleeping Beauty,"
Pitt replied, stepping around the body.
He walked over and tried the handle on the entry door but found it locked. Hoisting the sledgehammer, he swung the iron head against the door handle with a punishing blow. The lock smashed free of the doorjamb and Pitt easily kicked the door open. Giordino already had the guard's torso in his arms, and dragged the unconscious man through the doorway and deposited him to the side as Pitt closed the door behind him.
The interior was dark, but Pitt flicked on the light switches next to the door and flooded the interior with fluorescent light. To his surprise, the building was nearly empty. Just two flatbed haulers sat side by side in the middle of the floor, taking up a fraction of the otherwise deserted warehouse. One of the flatbeds was empty, but the other held a large protruding object covered from view by a canvas tarp. The object under wraps had a streamlined shape resembling a subway car. It was nearly the opposite in dimension of the jaggedly vertical object that they had seen concealed on the truck at Lake Baikal.
"Doesn't look like the present we were looking for," Pitt remarked.
"Might as well unwrap it and find out what the big secret is," Giordino replied, pulling out the hacksaw from his battered toolbox. Jumping onto the flatbed, he attacked a maze of ropes that secured the canvas in a mummy wrap. As the cut ropes fell away, Pitt reached up and yanked at the canvas covering.
As the canvas tarp fell to the floor, they stood staring at a tube-shaped piece of machinery that stretched almost thirty feet long. A tangled maze of pipes and hydraulic lines ran from a large cylinder head at the front end to a frame support at the tail. Pitt walked around and studied the prow of the device, finding a circular plate eight feet in diameter studded with small beveled disks.
"A tunnel-boring machine," he said, rubbing one of the cutter-heads that was worn dull from usage.
"Corsov mentioned the company had some mining interests. I've heard there are some rich copper and coal reserves in the country."
"A rather expensive piece of equipment for a hack oil company."
A shrill whistle suddenly sounded from somewhere across the yard. Pitt and Giordino glanced toward the door and immediately saw that the guard had disappeared.
"Somebody woke up and ordered room service without telling us," Pitt said.
"And I don't have any change for a tip."
"We've seen all there is to see. Let's go meld into the woodwork."
They sprinted to the door, which Pitt opened a crack to peer out. Across the yard, a trio of armed guards was headed toward the warehouse in a jeep. Pitt recognized the man in the backseat rubbing his head as the guard Giordino had clobbered.
Pitt didn't hesitate, throwing open the door and bolting out of the building with Giordino on his heels.
They turned and ran toward the maze of stacked pipes that paralleled the railroad spur. The pursuing guards shouted across the yard, but Pitt and Giordino quickly disappeared behind the first pallet of pipes.
"I hope they don't have dogs," Giordino said as they paused to catch their breath.
"I don't hear any barking." Pitt had instinctively grabbed the sledgehammer on the way out the door and held it up to show Giordino they weren't completely defenseless. He then surveyed the stacks of pipe around them and forged an exit strategy.
"Let's maze our way through the pipes to the rail line. If we can skirt around the loading platform undetected, then we ought to be able to make it back to the gate while they're still sniffing around here."
"I'm right behind you," Giordino replied.
They took off again, skirting in and around the mammoth stacks of pipe that stood twenty feet high. A few yards behind, they heard the shouts of the guards as they fanned out in pursuit. Fording through the dozens of huge pallets was like snaking through a dense sequoia forest. The pursuers were at a decided disadvantage.
Making a beeline as best he could, Pitt steered them in the direction of the railroad tracks, stopping again as they approached the last line of pallets. The rail spur ended just a few feet away, while just beyond was the southern boundary of the compound, marked by a twelve-foot brick wall.
"No chance at scaling that," Pitt whispered. "We'll have to follow the tracks."
They jumped over the railroad tracks and moved toward the loading ramp at a fast walk so as not to attract attention. Ahead of them, the loading of the flatcars continued unimpeded. The workers had stopped briefly when the security alarm sounded, but resumed their loading when they saw the guards driving to the warehouse building.
Pitt and Giordino approached the dock, walking along the backside of the flatcars with their hard hats pulled low over their eyes. They were nearly past the first of the three railcars when a foreman jumped off the flatcar, landing a few steps from Giordino. The workman lost his balance, stumbling into Giordino and bouncing off the stocky Italian like he'd hit a concrete wall.
"Sorry," the man muttered in Mongolian, then looked Giordino in the face. "Who are you?"
Giordino could see the glint of alarm register in the man's face and immediately extinguished it with a right cross to the chin. The man slumped to the ground just as a loud shout erupted in front of them. Standing on the next flatcar, two other workers witnessed Giordino punch out their supervisor and yelled out in bewilderment. The workers turned and yelled across the yard, waving their arms at the security jeep, which was just pulling away from the warehouse.
"So much for a stealthy getaway," Pitt quipped.
"I swear I was just minding my own business," Giordino muttered.
Pitt peered down the rail line toward the gate they had cut through. If they took off at a sprint they had a chance to reach it before the jeep cut them off, but the guards would be right on their tail.
"We need a diversion," Pitt said quickly. "Try to attract the attention of the jeep. I'll work on getting us a lift out of here."