I took the small plastic security access card out of my wallet.

During the layover in Atlanta, I’d changed the master PIN from my laptop.

“The cameras are still rolling,” I said.

Martinez turned onto the highway toward the industrial park at the edge of town.

Oak Ridge Storage was a sprawling complex of orange metal doors behind a tall chain-link fence.

Martinez entered his personal gate code on the keypad and drove the truck down the second row of buildings.

He pulled up in front of unit 104 and shut off the engine.