The Lock Box by Parker Adams

Author:Parker Adams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CROOKED LANE BOOKS

CHAPTER

19

THE LIGHT STRUCK Locke from the left, the same direction as the offices she’d just checked. The tight white beam caught her so off guard it seemed to pack a physical punch—it staggered her a half step to the right.

Otherwise, she froze. Picturing Huang and his pistol behind the light, she squinted and started to raise her hands.

Before they reached her shoulders, the white light disappeared. She was plunged back into darkness, her night vision completely erased.

“Enjoy your precious beauty sleep, princess?”

Even whispered, Jack’s brogue cut through the darkness.

“You waited?”

“I’m the one who told you about the blasted skylight, ain’t I? But my turn on watch was supposed to end twenty minutes ago—I kinna wait forever.”

Locke blinked. Trying to get her vision back, wishing she could see his face.

“Don’t just stand there,” he hissed. “Move your arse!”

Still working to clear afterimages from her eyes, she shuffled toward the structure as best she could. The lingerie light helped—its glowing red circle created a target to aim for.

Jack’s anger caught her off guard, but she took it as another sign that he was on the level—if he hadn’t cared about her getting caught, why risk his own neck by extending his watch?

When Locke reached the corner of the giant box, she pressed her hand against it. Although rough to the touch, the massive plywood wall felt solid and reassuring. Counting the seconds, she continued forward, following the structure to her right and trailing her fingers along the wood to keep contact. Eventually, the familiar staircase loomed as a jagged shadow ahead.

Panning her beam over the steps, she found the wooden risers looked sturdier in the dark. Not that it mattered much—she’d have climbed a greased rope at this point.

As Locke started upward, she immediately regretted going barefoot. On each new stair, splinters jabbed at her soles. When she finally reached the upper landing, she allowed herself a deep breath before ducking into the box.

The door opened into a claustrophobic hallway that stretched farther forward than the lingerie light could penetrate. The walls were narrower than her outstretched arms; the ceiling hung only a few inches overhead. Door-shaped rectangles had been spray-painted on both sets of sidewalls, the word CREW written over each one. The entire place smelled of sawdust, adding to the sense that she’d been enclosed in some kind of coffin.

As tight as it was for her, Locke wondered how King shoehorned himself in here. Or how he managed to pry himself back out.

All the plywood panels had rough-cut edges, making it easy to spot the seams between them. Worried equally about noise and more splinters, Locke did her best to step only where the floorboards were nailed down. She followed the hallway like that—planting one foot on a safe spot, then hauling the rest of her body over to it.

After several yards, the lingerie light revealed a left turn ahead. Locke approached the corner like she’d learned in basic, flashlight out front as if it were her old M9 pistol.

Quickly, she realized this wasn’t another full passage, just an alcove.

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