Page 148 of Smoke Screen
“Standard procedure. Just in case.”
Whether the answer satisfied her, he didn’t know, but she fell into step beside him, running to catch up with Zeke already at the rear entrance. By the time they got there, he’d slid his tension wrench into the lock with his left hand and inserted the pick with his right, raking back and forth, moving the pins up and down.
“Almost there,” he said.
“Good. We have things to do.”
Zeke snorted and removed the wrench. Rotating the pick, he hit the lever and—voila—open door.
He waved them inside. “What are you waiting for?”
“That is so cool!” Maddy said, following Phin inside. “Total badass.”
Had to love her enthusiasm.
Straight ahead, two forklifts sat idle in what had to be an 80,000-square-foot warehouse. If they’d had more prep time, Phin would have known the exact number. Yet another reminder of how hastily they’d pulled this operation together.
Zeke paused in front of a row marked with a white sign displaying a giant red six at the top. He swung his head left, then right, getting his bearings among the rows and rows—twelve to be exact—of stuffed shelves that stretched clear to the two-story ceiling.
“Wow,” Maddy said, her voice breathy and filled with wonder. “All this stuff. Is it all stolen?”
“No idea,” Phin said. “Make a right,” he told Zeke.
Based on their map, the office would be at the front of the building to the right.
“Let’s move.” Phin burst into a run, heading to the east side of the building. As he went, he hit the button on his earbud. “Status?”
“About to head back to the car. You about done?”
“We need a few minutes.”
Translation: We’ve barely started.
“Christ on a cracker, Phin.” This from Cruz, clearly pissy. “You getting your nails done or what? We’ll distract them. Hurry the fuck up!”
Phin hit the button again and hooked a left, tearing down row one.
Boxes and boxes lined the row. Some cardboard, some plastic and rubber. God only knew what kind of stolen goods they contained. If they’d had more time, he’d have taken a peek.
They reached the front of the building and Zeke pointed. “There.”
A set of metal stairs led to a platform with a glass-walled office and what looked like a crappy clapboard door. “If the door is locked, we’re kicking it in.”
Phin led the charge, hitting the narrow stairs at a dead run and sprinting to the top where he gripped the doorknob, gave it a turn, and pushed it open.
Finally, a break.
Stale, musty air hit him like a punch and he held his breath a second, watching dust particles fly.
He scanned the back wall.
Metal filing cabinet. There.
According to Bob, the safe would be next to it.
Cornering the desk, he cut it too close and banged his hip.Ow, but … yes!
On the floor sat a rectangular safe, more tall than wide. He eyeballed it, estimating it at about two and a half feet high.
