Chapter 8
“We’re going to the pie shop. On foot. Wear these.” Dane motioned for Joe to issue night-vision goggles to Ronnie, Vendi, and Shana.
“We’re one short,” he said.
Dane didn’t take his eyes off Shana. He was the odd man out, the one without the night vision.
“I’ll go without,” he said.
“Are you sure—?” Ronnie began.
“Positive, kid.” Dane allowed a small smile for Shana. “I have excellent night vision without the goggles.”
She raised her chin, but didn’t say a word. No wisecrack, no derisive snort, not even concern. And most definitely no offer to stay behind and let him use her goggles. But it was blatant wishful thinking on his part that she might.
“We approach quiet. Two in the front on each side of the entrance and two in the back, one on each side.” Dane pointed as he spoke, well aware that there were five of them.
He would decide where he was going on the spur of the moment.
Joe distributed other assorted tools of the trade including earbuds for relatively quiet communication. Everyone had brought their own guns.
“Cap, you get back to the station and keep the police at bay. If anyone sees us or calls in a disturbance at the shop, give me a warning call. Or better yet, don’t show up at all.”
“Yes, sir. Anything else?”
Dane didn’t miss the sarcasm in his friend’s voice.
One side of his mouth twitched, but he couldn’t smile.
His heart pounded hard with his adrenaline rising.
He kept his breathing even and channeled the excess energy into being aware of every little thing around him.
Every noise, every movement, everything in his vision.
Most of his vision was taken up by Shana the she-devil at the moment.
They were all still and waiting for him.
He slipped his Glock into his shoulder holster and turned.
Then everyone moved, splitting up to approach the pie shop from their assigned directions.
It was only a few blocks away. Joe stayed with him.
He was least familiar with the area, only knowing it from maps which he’d barely had time to study.
Dane kept up a steady stream of talk into his headset like a play-by-play, speaking almost under his breath.
It was mostly for the kid’s benefit to keep his nerves down.
When they all got to the shop, they kept low the first thing they did was check the basement from the windows of their assigned side of the building.
“All clear. Check in,” Dane spoke low and got a response from everyone.
But it was too soon to release the tension tightening every muscle in his body to taut springs of energy.
They had to check the shop proper. The front was the retail space with storage counters, a few barstools, counter, refrigerated case, and shelving.
Dane knew the space well. He doubted there’d be anyone in there with the wide-open window showcasing the whole space.
He could already see in his peripheral vision, even without night goggles, that the shop front was quiet and empty.
That left the kitchen and storage area out back.
A much more likely place for someone to be stowing away.
He had a key to the front and Shana had a key to the back that Sassy had given them long ago.
They weren’t going to bang on doors, but they’d need to be quick coming in if on the off chance someone was inside.
Not likely. He’d half expected to find someone in the basement, but with that eliminated after checking the windows, they still needed to be cautious. The place could be wired for explosives.
“Take your positions on the side of your entry point and go on my count. Use extreme caution. Watch out for anything out of the ordinary.”
Shana unlocked the back door from her crouched position while Ronnie waited on the periphery.
Vendi was behind her. Once the door was opened, Ronnie jumped in ahead of her.
He was surprisingly quick and insistent.
The kitchen was dark but the night-vision goggles worked miraculously so that she felt somewhat like a superhero.
“All inside. Proceed with extreme caution.” She heard Dane’s low voice in her ear, calm, cool, and under control as always. Admiration lurched up in her in spite of her simmering outrage at his betrayal. She still trusted him, the lousy liar, to have her back in a pinch.
“Damn. This place is a mess.” Ronnie spoke quietly into the tiny mic, but his voice was higher, less calm than Dane’s.
She felt Vendi behind her and they all rose into a crouch, looking around.
Then Ronnie moved forward and to the left.
She moved from behind him, spreading to his right farther into the kitchen, her old favorite—the Century Arms CZ 82—in her hand and ready.
Vendi fanned to the far right. She saw him crouched low, staying under the window in that wall.
Someone had been here, had messed the place up, seemingly randomly—she observed utensils, pots, pans, and small bottles of spices strewn about. But the most dangerous thing they’d encountered so far was some broken glass on the floor. She listened to Dane and Joe at the front of the shop.
“Clear out front,” Dane spoke in a muted voice as he came through the kitchen door, weapon first.
They hadn’t checked the storeroom yet. Shana turned in that direction.
“What’s this over here?” Ronnie said. Looking inside the open door to the storage room a few feet to her left. “A candle in a paint can—?”
The frisson of alarm hit her, propelling her forward.
“Ronnie don’t!” Running her eyes low along the threshold as she rushed toward him, she spotted the tripwire at the exact moment his foot hit it.
In the next second, she crashed into his side, pushing him away from the doorway as the flash fire exploded from the paint can. Flames leapt out at them.
Dane was right behind her and with his usual canny wherewithal he’d grabbed the fire extinguisher from the corner.
Moving fast into the storage room doorway, he sprayed the flame, extinguishing it.
Shana rolled out of the way and up from the floor back to a standing position.
Reaching out, she helped Ronnie back to his feet.
Joe now stood just outside the storeroom doorway, fire extinguisher in hand. Dane emerged from the small room and gave the thumbs up.
“It’s out. There’s nothing else in there.”
Dane turned to her and she lifted the night-vision goggles from her face.
“Alert move,” he said. “Well done.” The simple words, along with the stifled smile on his too-hard face made her melt a little inside when she absolutely didn’t want to. He didn’t deserve any softening on her part.
“What the hell was that?” Ronnie said as he ripped off his goggles.
“A good old-fashioned booby trap,” Dane said.
Shana said, “The explosion was triggered when the tripwire set off a spray of dust—or likely flour in this case—into the air around the flames of the candle in the paint can. The energy released by the little fires caught on each of the airborne particles in rapid succession.” It was childish, but Shana felt compelled to outshine Dane, to compete. But then she always had.
“Impressive.” Joe said from under his goggles. “I haven’t seen one of those setups since I was a kid.”
“Whitey is taunting us.” Dane said.
“That was always his MO.” Then it hit her. “He’s not just guessing. He knows we’re still alive. He’s counting on it.” Shana realized her heart was pounding too fast and she still clutched Ronnie’s arm.
“He has Sassy somewhere else. She could be anywhere.” Ronnie’s voice was choked, but she heard the anger underneath.
As she stood rooted, coming to grips with Whitey Nash out there, a step ahead of them, planning something, she watched Dane.
He moved slowly, deliberately, around the kitchen, goggles off, only the moonlight for illumination, moving carefully, deliberately.
Then he stopped, took out a small penlight, and shone it on something on the countertop near the sink, which was strewn with broken glass. Then he turned to her, to them all.
“There is no doubt that Whitey Nash has a partner.”