14. Cain
CAIN
The man from the electricity company is tied up in the back of his panel van, bound and gagged, in only his underwear.
I’m sitting in the front seat, dressed in his uniform, partly shocked at how easily that went. None of us even broke a sweat.
He’d been messing around in the back of his van, so easy to sneak up on, and we were prepared. A hand slammed over his mouth, a switchblade in his side, and he’d cooperated straight away.
We had ropes in the trunk, but we didn’t have gags. Thank God for electrical tape. I pull the ball cap, which proudly proclaims twenty-four-seven help on the front, down over my face a little and sink lower in the seat.
We’ve switched from our vehicle to the panel van, which has a three-seat configuration in the front.
Roman is behind the wheel, with Malachi in the middle, and I’m in the far side passenger seat.
If I’m supposed to pass myself off as a tradesman, I didn’t want to cause questions about why I’m getting out of an unmarked car.
Plus, we couldn’t leave our victim unsupervised in case he starts making a lot of noise or tries to escape.
Right now, he’s terrified and thinks we’re going to kill him—which we won’t, unless he forces our hand—but if we have to wait too long, he might try something stupid.
I have a mental image of us sitting back in our car, only for the rear doors of the panel van to fly open, and the electrician to hop down the road in only his boxer shorts, with his mouth taped, and his hands and feet bound together.
The thought amuses me, but it would be attention we could do without.
“Roll the sleeves up,” Mal says, jutting his chin at my already tightly fitting uniform. “Show off those arms.”
I give him a long stare. “What the fuck?”
“Women love it, and you need to get the receptionist all worked up.”
“She might not be into men,” I point out.
“Shit, didn’t think of that.” Mal shrugs. “Flirt, and if she doesn’t respond, you’ll just have to talk her to death to distract her.”
“Wait a minute,” Rome says from the driver’s seat.
He’s looking at the plans of the building on my cell phone.
“Once I get in using the stolen pass, if I can avoid detection long enough, I can take a left here,” he points to a part of the schematics, “and that’s where the fuse box is. Should I just flip a switch?”
“Fucking yes,” Mal says. “That will make them much more likely to send you on in, Cain. If they lose power suddenly, that might mean they go on lockdown, though.” He taps his fingers against his lips.
“Fuse boxes are separated by function, so pick one area and turn that off. It is less likely to spark a panic if you don’t mess with door locks and alarms.”
“They’ve probably got back up generators,” I point out.
Malachi picks at the flaking black polish on his nails. “True, but they will still need to send you in to fix it.”
“It could help,” Roman says.
Mal bounces in his seat. “Shit, I hate being the one sitting out here, waiting for you assholes.” He grins, and it holds a slightly manic edge.
Roman holds his hands up. “Whoa, there. Chill. This is serious.”
“It is,” Mal concedes. “But it’s also kind of fun.”
We need him to take this seriously. “You have an important role to play. We need you to be ready to drive us away. Once we have her and we’re on the outside, we’re going to need to get out of here fast.”
“But calmly,” Roman adds. “We don’t want to be pulled over by the police.”
“Fast but calm,” Mal repeats.
“I think we should give him side quests every week,” I say to Rome.
He smirks, and Mal shakes his head, but his lips twitch.
Mal sits up straight. “Shit, he’s here.”
Walking down the long stretch of empty road is a thin man with dyed orange hair.
Grabbing the electrical guy wasn’t too hard.
He was parked a way down from the facility, and no one was around, but Timothy is walking down the street in broad daylight and near the tall walls that surround the building.
What if they have security cameras on the outside?
I don’t even think. I just act. I jump out of the van.
“Hey.” I wave him over as he approaches the gates. “Hey, buddy. Can I borrow you for a moment? Do you work in there?”
I point at the gates, and he hesitates but then, thank God, he walks over. People always seem to trust uniforms, even if it’s only the electrical guy.
As Tim approaches me, I walk around the far side of the panel van, away from the building, and as I had hoped, he follows.
When he steps around the side of the van, away from any possible prying eyes, I relax a little.
I glance up and down the long stretch of road again, and we’re clear for traffic.
I jerk my chin at the building. “Can you tell me how I get inside? I’m here for a job, but I’ve been hitting the buzzer for the past ten minutes, and no one is answering.”
He frowns. “Strange. Someone should be at the reception desk.” He glances at the gates, then back to me. “I can take you in.”
Over the guy’s shoulder, I see Roman stalking him like a big cat and its prey. A length of rope is in his hands. As soon as he gets close enough, he hooks the rope around Timothy’s neck and yanks it tight.
The shock in Tim’s eyes quickly morphs to terror.
A strangled sound forces its way from his mouth, but the rope around his throat has cut off his airways.
Mal jumps out of the van with the tape we stole from the electrician.
He slaps it over the man’s mouth the moment Roman loosens the rope. We don’t want to kill the poor fucker.
“No need,” Roman says calmly. “I will need to borrow your identification, though.” He unhooks the lanyard from around Timothy’s neck. “And your clothes.”
Tim is barely conscious, and he doesn’t put up a fight.
Malachi opens the rear doors of the van, revealing the electrician, still bound and gagged.
The electrician sees us with another man, and he gives a muffled yell against the tape across his mouth, and bucks and thrashes.
He’s hogtied, so he won’t cause us any trouble.
We bundle Timothy into the back as well.
We can’t risk these men making a scene or banging on the van walls while Mal is in the car waiting for us, so I turn to them.
“We’ll let you go once this is over with.
But either of you try to make a run for it, or create any noise, and it won’t end well for you. ”
I give them what I hope is my best deranged stare.
It’s pretty crowded in here now, so I step back out and shut the doors, just in case someone walks past. A few minutes later, the doors open again, and Malachi and Roman jump out.
Roman is now wearing Timothy’s uniform. Problem is, it’s several inches too short on both the arms and legs.
“You look like you’re wearing kids’ clothing,” I comment.
He holds out an arm, displaying his bare wrist. “Yeah, it’s not perfect, but it’ll do.”
My own borrowed uniform isn’t much better. We just have to hope no one looks too closely.