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The Grace Bay Agreement by D. Alan Johnson

The Grace Bay Agreement by D. Alan Johnson

Author:D. Alan Johnson [Johnson, D. Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-11-08T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter Five

Wednesday

08 December, 1999

1155

366 Rancho Viejo Drive

Sugarland, Texas

Joan coasted down the street in Wilson’s black Lincoln Town Car. Like many vehicles in South Texas, the back and rear windows were tinted dark green to help keep the car cool during the brutal summers. Pete sat in the back on the right hand side, confident no one could see him from the outside. He studied the big house as they eased past. Since it had a “For Sale” sign in the front yard, Pete figured it wouldn’t hurt to dawdle in front of the house for a minute. No alarm company sign in the yard. A pretty good indicator that Jose Leal didn’t use a monitoring company. He probably depended on a large caliber automatic pistol.

This was their second pass. The first time Joan drove by at normal speed and Pete checked for any lookouts or cars parked in the street. He was sure no one followed them since the neighborhood looked deserted, and they hadn’t seen a car in the last ten minutes.

“Go down the alley so that we can see the back.”

“Yes, master,” she said.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“Just trying to break the tension, hon. I’m not used to this slinking around. Wilson was always in the banking end of this business.” Pete felt bad for snapping at her, but stayed silent.

She pulled into the wide alley and Pete counted three houses in. Wow, these folks must have money. This alley is wider and better paved than the streets in my neighborhood. This one should be it. Yes, it had the same red roof and pink stucco walls.

An eight foot block wall surrounded Jose’s back yard instead of the six foot wood fences of his neighbors. Looked like a fort instead of a yard, Pete thought. He noticed the iron spikes set in the mortar on top. No climbing that wall. We’ll have to bring bolt cutters to get in the iron gate.

“Stop right here.” He opened the door and got out. No barking. Good. That means no guard dog. “Let’s go.” He slammed the back door and dialed Waldo.

“Waldo, it’s only seven o’clock. Don’t you think we ought to wait ‘til after midnight?” Pete stared at the house as they drove by.

“No, no, no. When he goes to bed, he’ll set the house alarm, lock the doors and sleep with his pistol. That’s what I do. Right now he’s puttering around the house. The neighbors are moving around, so our comings and goings won’t be noticed. He’s watching TV or cooking, and his weapons are in the bedroom. No, this is the best time to hit him given the limited knowledge we have.”

Pete parked the car in the alley. Waldo pulled out a black glove and used his teeth to pull it onto his right hand.

“Don’t you have any gloves?”

“No, I don’t,” Pete said, feeling stupid.

“Then don’t touch anything.”

Waldo tried the gate. Unlocked. Pete and Waldo exchanged glances that contained surprise and a warning to each other. He lifted the latch, and they walked into the back yard.



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