Page 23 of Beachcomber Danger

“No light. One of the feds out there may have noticed us and may try following. I don’t want to leave a trail.” He whispered this next to her ear as he nudged her forward with his body, holding her so she wouldn’t fall as he felt along the wall with his other hand.

She was smart enough not to speak and nimble enough to climb down the stairs in the dark without incident. By the time they got to the bottom, his eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness and they encountered a small open space showing two doors.

He touched the knob of the one on the right, but rapped lightly in Morse code, spelling out his name. This was his all-purpose communication with Acer and all his ex-special-ops team members to announce his arrival lest he got knocked on the head or worse when he opened the door.

As he entered he shoved Shana through ahead of him. Just in time to avoid being seen by whoever had opened the door to the stairwell above. He nodded at Acer and signaled for them all to remain silent. Locking the door behind him, he flicked the lights off. And waited.

Damn if these feds weren’t determined to keep him in their sights. They were better than he’d given them credit for. Or maybe it was that he couldn’t afford the luxury of time and planning to better evade them.

That was all about to change once his friend Acer was up and running this basement web-hacking and general spy support shop. In the meantime, they all listened to the deceptively light footsteps of someone on the stairs. Dane kept his breathing even when the doorknob rattled.

At the same time as the knob rattled, another set of steps could be heard stomping down the stairs, sure and fast this time and without concern for noise. Then Dane listened just on the other side of the door to the voices outside, loud and clear.

“Hey, what are you doing down here? This is off limits to customers.” The unmistakable voice of the Lucky Parrot owner, Tom Jones.

“I was looking for the men’s room. I saw someone else come down here—” The voice was unrecognizable, lower, barely audible, but unintimidated.

“Let’s get back u-stairs, bud. Anyone else belongs down here and you don’t.” There was a pause for a couple of beats. He felt Shana’s breath fan his neck, felt her press against him, the tickle of her hair against his cheek. Dane hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until his shoulders unclenched a notch with her closeness.

Then they heard two sets of footsteps going back up the stairs and when the door closed at the top with a loud thud, courtesy of Tom, Dane took a deep breath and slipped an arm around Shana.

“Glad that showdown was avoided,” Shana said.

“For now,” he said.

“I’ll need to take precautions then,” Acer said. “I don’t want to be a sitting duck here if they decide to come back when Tom isn’t around. Or if they get a warrant.”

“Or if they just come back at night. We’re not sure how closely these guys are playing by the rules.” Dane already knew in his own mind that they weren’t, at least not the two Secret Service agents they were dealing with. Andrews and Goodley were already crossing lines by barging into his house and insisting they have access to Dane’s equipment.

Dane hoped to hell that didn’t include the arsenal of weapons he had stashed in the basement. But why would the Secret Service need his other equipment?

No reason unless they’re outside the lines and need a fall guy.

“So what’s Acer supposed to do?” Shana didn’t look alarmed exactly, but Dane would definitely describe the slight downturn of her mouth and the tension around her eyes—not quite a squint—as dismayed.

“Same as I always do,” Acer said. “I go into Alice in Wonderland, Through the Looking-Glass mode.”

She paused and didn’t bother asking for the explanation, unless he counted the way she put her hands on her hips and stared at Acer like a school principal. Dane didn’t bother saying a word. He knew Acer would spell it out for her.

“I’ll need some supplies.” Acer eyed him.

“I’ll arrange delivery before dawn. I have a kit. It’s a bit dusty, but it should work.” He assessed the size of the room. Two- by-four studs, wood paneling, some hydraulics, and presto.

“What the hell are you two talking about?”

Acer smiled. “We build the room out to look like something it’s not. We’ll have some storage behind the walls for my equipment and my favorite feature, a secret door.”

“I don’t think there’s enough space for a secret room for your work space behind the walls, Acerman,” Dane said.

“I know. And we’ll have to hope they don’t take too much notice of the setup. It won’t be polished.” He looked up at the ceiling. “We’ll need to put in a drop ceiling or they’ll trace the plumbing and electricity to its source behind the walls.”

Shana stood shaking her head. Dane said nothing. Finally, she took her fists off her hips and faced him.

“You were in clandestine operations, like the CIA?” It was an accusation.

“Far more clandestine than the CIA,” Acer scoffed. “The less you know, the better.”

“What did you think special ops was about?” Dane stared back at her, resisting his urge to throw his hands on his hips or to throw his arms around her and hug her in.