Security Leak - Part 2

Karen crept through the warehouse, staying crouched low so her head wouldn’t poke out above these crates. 

Come on, Simon, where are you? I just need a photo, then I can get out of here. 

She glanced wistfully at her trenchcoat, pinned to the ground by the garage door. If someone spotted it, they’d realize that she had snuck in, but that wasn’t what she really wanted. 

In truth, she just wished she had something to cover up her diaper. 

She’d never intended to actually wear the damned things. It was supposed to be an on-and-off, a ‘use it and throw it away’ situation. Actually keeping it on while she sprinted into the den of a mobster had not been on her to-do list. 

Screw it. 

Stopping behind a box, she decided to just rip it off and leave it on the floor. She’d already left behind her coat, she could leave behind the diaper, too. Taking one of the tapes, she started to pull. 

SCCCCRRRTCH-

The sound of the tape peeling seemed as loud as a gunshot in the still, quiet warehouse. With the first tape only half free, Karen froze, tilting her head to listen. 

“‘Ey, Gus, you hear something?” 

“Nah. What’s it sound like?” 

“Maybe something getting torn? I dunno.” 

Shit. If they come looking for me- 

“Well, if you want to go check it out, be my guest.” 

“It was prob’ly nothing.” 

Karen thanked her lucky stars that the thugs hadn’t come to check out the noise. Pressing the tape back down flat, she continued creeping through the warehouse in the direction she’d seen Simon go, mindful of where she’d heard the voices. 

Her objective hadn’t changed. Get a photo, get out. She could open the garage door, snatch her coat, and get to her car before they knew what had happened if she was quick enough about it. As long as she had proof of Simon’s location, she’d get that reward. 

Peering around another box, she spotted the doors into the warehouse offices. Two thugs were leaning against the wall, arms crossed, smoking cigarettes and eyeing the floor. One of them started to look her way.

She pulled her head back and curled up into a tiny space, diaper squelching as she pulled her body into a tiny ball behind the crate. Don’t notice me. Don’t notice me. Don’t- 

“Hey, Buck, I think-”

The door opened, and a man with a low, grating voice said, “What the fuck are you doing?” 

“Uh… watching the door. Tell ‘im, Gus.” 

“Watching the door, like he said.” 

The new voice said, “Your cigarette smoke is stinking up the place. Go stand by the window if you’re gonna do that. Boss has a sensitive nose.” 

“Yessir.” 

“Yessir.” 

The two thugs shuffled, their footsteps getting quieter as they walked to the far side of the warehouse floor. 

Karen waited for three seconds, then turned to look. The coast was clear. 

Staying low, she shuffled forward, reaching the doors, checking through the crack. The coast was clear, for now. She pushed the handle, crinkled her way inside, and looked around. 

The break room was set up with a round card table, half a dozen chairs, and dim, dingy lighting that went with the mob’s hideouts like chocolate and peanut butter. 

She crept forward, trying to guess which way Simon had gone. The front entrance and waiting room were to the left, while the offices were to the right. He was probably to the right. 

Getting her camera ready, she snuck forward, listening for-

Footsteps. Laughter. People were approaching. 

Eyes going wide as dinner plates, she looked around the room, searching for a place to hide. Her gaze fell on a closet across the room, with a solid door. 

Lunging from shadow to shadow, she crossed to the door, threw it open, and stepped inside, shutting it behind her. 

She was safe, for the moment. As long as nobody needed to get in this closet, she could wait until they’d passed, then go find-

“Simon, like I was saying, we’re going to get you all taken care of here. You don’t gotta worry about no cops, not while Manny’s taking care of you.”

“Thanks, Manny. So when do we leave?” 

“Tomorrow night. Got a boat leaving for Cuba. Once you’re out on the water, you’ll be so far out of the cops’ jurisdiction that they’ll die of papercuts before they can get to you.” 

“Great, great. Thanks again, Manny. You’re a lifesaver.” 

“I wouldn’t treat a loyal kid like you any different. Whiskey?” 

“Yessir, please.” 

Karen heard chairs scrape as the two criminals got seated, poured shots, clinked, and drank. He sounded a little tense, and she got the sense that things weren’t as friendly between him and Manny as their words would imply, but she didn’t really care about that. She just needed a picture, and a way out of this warehouse. 

“How do you suppose we pass the time, then?” It was Simon’s voice, she was fairly sure. “Tomorrow night’s what, almost eighteen hours away?” 

“Nineteen. And, until then, well… we’ve got cards, we’ve got the finest whiskey you can import, I thought we could pass the time right here. We can’t have anyone wandering off and getting into trouble, eh, can we?” 

Oh god. No, please don’t- 

“Sure thing, Manny. We’ll just wait right here in this room ‘till tomorrow night.” 

More shots got poured, followed by the sounds of shuffling cards. 

Karen’s heart plummeted to somewhere in her belly. She was going to have to hide in this closet for something like nineteen hours, and if anyone decided to get their coat in that time, she was likely to meet a watery grave. 

There was nothing to do for it except get comfortable and wait it out. Sitting down, she stretched out her legs, feeling the diaper squelch around her hips as she sank her weight into it. 

At some point, a few more gangsters showed up and got dealt into the game. At some point later, they shuffled out, and the thugs who’d been watching the door cycled in, playing until they were out of money. 

It was simultaneously the most exhausting, tense, and boring thing Karen had ever gone through. She was terrified of being exposed, sure, but it was hard to stay terrified for hours on end when nothing was changing about her situation. 

Karen couldn’t see in the dark closet, and her phone was back in her car. Her options were absurdly limited. She couldn’t sleep without risking snoring, and she couldn’t move around without making noise. All she could do, unless she wanted to get caught, was sit and wait. 

After an indeterminate amount of time, she had to pee again. Seeing no point in holding it, she let it out into her diaper, feeling the padding swell a little more. 

A little while after that, she felt a new pressure start to build. 

Shit. 

She tried not to think about whether that particular epithet was an ironic choice, all things considered. 

It was fine, though. She was a grown woman, she had perfectly good control over her body. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t ever sat through a long meeting or a movie while needing to go, and she’d always been able to hold out just fine. 

“Say, Manny, what time is it?” 

“Almost dawn. We’ll have you out of here in another fifteen hours, give or take.” 

Double shit. 

The pressure built slowly, but too fast for comfort. After an hour, the pressure had gone from intermittent to constant. Two hours after that, the cramps were regular and painful. About the time she could hear them eating lunch, she was squeezing her legs together and fighting back the pressure. 

Despite her best efforts, she could only hold out for so long. 

Sometime in the middle of the afternoon, the pressure won out. 

Noooo. 

The cramps, fueled by junk food and a jumbo coffee the evening before, were too much to bear. Deciding that her mind couldn’t be trusted to make the right decision, her body overrode her and began to push. 

Her diaper swelled in response, bulging as she filled it up. It had been designed to hold large messes, and she was putting that limit to the test, heavy mush spreading out inside the sodden garment. Since she was sitting and couldn’t get up without making a lot of noise, there was no way to avoid sinking her weight into the mess, smearing it around inside her diaper. 

It’s okay. Nobody’s going to see you like this, they’ll never have to know. 

As the pressure came to a stop, the closet began to stink. With no airflow and a tiny, confined space, it was just about the worst possible conditions to be wearing a heavy, full diaper. It smelled like she was sitting inside her own private diaper pail, reminding her constantly of what she’d done. 

Then, things got worse. “Simon, that reeks.” 

“Wasn’t me,” Simon said in response. “I thought it was you.” 

“You shitting me?” 

“No sir.” 

A chair creaked, and someone got to their feet, the sound of his snuffling audible even through the closet door. “I thinks I smell a rat.” 

“A dead rat, maybe. There a sewer line backed up or something?” 

Karen’s heart had stopped. He could smell her, and it wouldn’t take long for him to sniff out the source of that smell. 

She was unarmed. She wouldn’t be able to run fast, not with her diaper weighing her down and throwing off her balance. If she ran for it, she’d get shot before she made it into the warehouse. 

The footsteps got closer. Manny was sniffing the air like a bloodhound, nearing to the closet. She could almost see him reach out for the handle. She tensed, sitting up a bit, ready to run at the first opportunity while she tried to decide how to play it when she was caught.

Just play dumb. Maybe he’ll let you go if you-

Somewhere in the building, there was a huge, heavy crash, and then the sound of boots as people, half a dozen or more, flooded the building. 

“Police! Get on the ground!” 

It was a raid. She’d been saved. 

Yes! 

Then, she heard a familiar voice say, “Simon Melbourne, you are under arrest. Anything you say can be used against you…” he kept going, but she knew the script. What worried her was that she knew the cop in question. She’d worked for him a couple times, collecting rewards and bounties related to cases he was working on. 

And, as soon as it came time to sweep the building, he was going to find her. 

Sinking back into the muck, she felt the panic of moments before be replaced by preemptive humiliation. 

Fuck.