What Lies Hidden by C G Cooper & Buck Adams

Author:C G Cooper & Buck Adams [Cooper, C G & Adams, Buck]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: C. G. Cooper Entertainment
Published: 2017-12-20T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Uri Kosolov Mixed-Martial Arts Gym was closed and dark. Time for Plan B.

Chance parked around the corner and trailed Mac up the hill to a back alley.

It was a gray day in Wilburville. The shadow of a passing cloud swapped afternoon for twilight, which suited their purpose. Checking to make sure they weren’t observed, the men ducked behind a dumpster and counted doors until they found the one they wanted.

“You okay with this?” asked Mac.

“You sure we can’t just knock?”

Mac looked at his watch. “I don’t have time to chat with the neighbors.”

Chance shrugged. “Am I okay with what?”

From his pocket, Mac produced his LockAid. He removed the metal pick from its magnet on the side, inserted the pick into the deadbolt lock, and chased it with the tines of the tool.

“I’m a little out of practice,” he said.

“You would be,” said Chance. “Two-and-a-half days pretending not to be a spy. When was the last time you shot somebody, even?”

“Been ages,” Mac said. The lock turned. He drew back the deadbolt with a faint click. Withdrawing the pick, he turned his attention to the door lock.

“What if there’s an alarm?” asked Chance.

Mac gave him a cold look.

“Kidding. I’ll call it in.” He stepped away, pulling out his cell phone.

Mac patted his jacket, realizing he’d left his own phone charging in Chance’s forest green Grand Cherokee. “You couldn’t have done that in the truck?”

Chance waved him away. Sighing, Mac waited for his “go” signal. It came a minute later. Adding the slightest torque to the pick, he squeezed the LockAid’s handle. The lock sprang easily.

“Still have the touch,” Mac murmured, slipping inside.

Chance followed.

By the light coming in through the cracked door, they could see they were in a concrete receiving area about the size of a McDonald’s bathroom. The space was swept, empty. There was a light switch on the other side of the room by a pair of double doors.

“It’s quiet,” said Chance.

“Not for long,” said Mac. Turning away, he engaged the deadbolt so the door wouldn’t close on them. Then he slid his feet forward in the near darkness. There was no lock on the inner doors, only a working handle on the left side and a dummy on the right. He turned the handle and let the door swing inward.

The gunshot sounded like thunder in the enclosed space. A muzzle flash had sparked from the right, but the major fireworks came from the thudding impact of the opening door. Mac jumped back into the room as Chance dropped to one knee and drew his Glock from a shoulder holster.

“Police,” he shouted. “Drop your weapon.”

“My place,” said a voice. “Drop yours.”

Mac’s back was against the wall. He had his P229 in hand. Despite his alarm and the ringing in his ears, he motioned to Chance and mouthed, “Blanks.” There had been no sound of a ricochet, just a dull metal clash. Even a .22 would have pinged off the sturdy door and kept traveling.

He wasn’t sure if the detective understood him or if he’d reached the same conclusion.

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