Thirty seconds later, Harv stayed behind at the southwest corner of the warehouse while Nathan entered the alley with the white delivery vans. If anyone drove by, Harv could duck behind the recycle bins next to the warehouse.
Halfway down the alley, he heard a door open on his left.
Crap!
The timing couldn’t have been worse. He had no cover. If he ran for the containers twenty yards distant, he’d be seen for sure.
“Harv, I’m busted,” he whispered. “Stand by.”
“Should I advance?”
“Not yet.”
He heard his radio click once.
He began a slow shuffle, pretending to struggle with the bag. He switched the strap to his left shoulder to free up his right hand and began mumbling to himself, mixing in some foul words. No more than thirty feet away, three men stepped onto an elevated loading dock, lit cigarettes, and stared like caged gorillas.
He hoped the smeared face paint would enhance the act. “Spare ’nee change?”
The voice hissed an expletive, then, “Get lost, pendejo.”
Perfect. He didn’t respond and kept going. The dim light kept them from seeing the wire leading up to his ear. If they changed their minds and approached, he’d have a fight on his hands. Although he could easily handle them, sooner or later their absence might be noticed and all bets would be off.
“Quick thinking, Nate. They buy it?”
“So far,” he whispered. He continued his snail’s pace, feeling three pairs of eyes bore into his back and the duffel bag. “I’m almost to the corner.”
Without looking back, he rounded the corner and hurried toward the cover of a big rig parked on the curb. “Harv, wait one. I’m going to make sure I’m not being followed. Sixty seconds. Grangeland, your location?”
“I’ll be at the fishing boat in ten seconds.”
He gave her a click.
He ducked deeper into the shadow of the truck’s cab and kept his eyes on the corner.
A car approached from the west.
The shadows cast from the truck’s wheels moved in a sweeping motion from left to right as the car sped past.
The smokers from the alley didn’t appear.
He crossed under the streetlight and entered the alley leading to the warehouse. Half a minute later, he was flat against the warehouse’s northern wall.
“Harv, I’m in place. I’ll contact you from the roof.”
“Copy.”
“Grangeland?”
“Copy.”
Nathan pulled a grappling hook with twenty feet of knotted, half-inch nylon rope from the duffel and coiled the rope. The bag also contained a small car battery, an inverter, two compact DVD players, two disks, and seventy feet of coaxial cable. His front pockets contained all the tools and parts necessary to splice into a coaxial line.
He moved to the midpoint of the north wall and swung the grappling hook. It caught on the parapet. He tested its anchor. Firm. Next, he tied the end of the grappling hook’s rope to the strap of the duffel bag. Once on the roof, he’d be able to haul the bag up.
Scaling a vertical wall by rope required strength and skill, especially near the top, but he’d done this exact kind of climb more times than he could remember. It took him less than twenty seconds.
At the top, a sudden wave of dizziness nailed him. The concussion.… He took a knee and steadied himself against the parapet. Precious seconds were passing. Lightheaded or not, he had to keep working. He assessed his battle readiness at roughly 80 percent. Not great, but acceptable. With a little luck and a lot of skill, this would all be over in the next ten minutes. He ignored the throbbing above his ear and pulled the duffel up to his position, then took a few seconds to scan the immediate rooftops. No one was present.
Staying as close to the parapet as possible to avoid making the roof creak, he traversed over to a position directly above the front door. If any pedestrians or vehicles approached, he’d be able to lie flat and use the parapet for cover. Several buildings distant, a tomcat wailed into the night. Another issued a challenge in return. A sliver moon gave the roof’s galvanized vents a dull, silvery glow. Mixed with the noxious odor of roofing tar, he caught the scent of cigarettes from the men in the alley he’d seen earlier.
“I’m in place above the front door,” he whispered. “I’m going to bypass the camera. If the video feed is being constantly monitored, they’ll come out to check the interruption. Harv, we’ll use that opportunity to gain entry. I’ll drop down from the roof using the rope while you rush in from the south. Grangeland, if that happens you stay put and watch for runners. Deadly force only if warranted. These may not be Montez’s men.”
“Copy,” Harv said.
“Grangeland?”
“Copy.”
Nathan took a deep breath, aware that the interior TV monitor would be snowy or blank during the brief interruption. Holding a tiny LED flashlight in his mouth, he worked quickly but carefully. No one came out to investigate the loss of signal. So far, so good. It took just under three minutes to make two plug-and-play connections in the existing coaxial line and get the battery and inverter set up for use. He plugged the cable from the camera into the first DVD’s input feed and the opposite end of the cable into the output feed. The DVD recorder was now connected between the camera and the monitor inside the warehouse.
Nathan inserted a disk, hit the record button, and looked at his watch.
“Video splice complete, recording normal scene.”
“Copy.”
“I’m going to give it seven minutes.”
Harv clicked the radio.
If anyone happened to look at the interior monitor, they’d see what they normally saw, an empty alley. The next phase of his plan involved recording Grangeland standing at the door for approximately three to four minutes. He hoped that would be long enough. If anyone were inside, they ought to be able to answer within that time frame. What if no one answered at all? What then? Did they ram the door? They didn’t have the resources for a prolonged stakeout and even if they did, how long would they have to wait? Hours? Days? Weeks? Not an option. Nichole Dalton and her daughters could be in there. If no one answered, they’d break in, glean what they could, and bug out.
“I’m almost ready. I’m going to feed the normal scene through the line.” Nathan pressed the play button. Anyone on the inside would now see the seven minutes of empty alley he’d just recorded. He plugged the camera’s end of the cable into the second DVD recorder and inserted the second disk. “Grangeland, advance.”
“On my way.”
She called it pretty close. Thirty-three seconds later, Harv reported her arrival at his location.
Nathan heard Grangeland say, “No peeking.” She must’ve purposefully keyed her mike for that comment.
Harv said, “The thought never crossed my mind.”
“Okay, okay, you guys. Grangeland?”
“One minute.”
It was a long minute.
Nathan watched her approach the front door. She looked striking, even in the outer reaches of the security spotlight. She’d swapped her pants, sweatshirt, and ballistic vest for her altered gym outfit. The legs were cut just below her butt and she’d cut the top just below her breasts. It didn’t look like she had anything on under the skintight outfit.
Damn! He hoped the men inside wouldn’t notice her missing high heels. He knew they’d never see the tiny wire leading up to her ear. The camera mounted above the door wasn’t HD. Her image on the interior television screen would be average-to-poor clarity-definitely not doing her justice. As long as she didn’t turn around, they wouldn’t see the radio.