“Clear,” from Kenny.
“Clear,” Doc said.
I had a tiny inspection mirror-one of those little round mirrors mounted on a handle. I used it to peek around the corner before actually stepping out. Satisfied it was clear, I carefully made my way out of the office and down the hall. When I reached the end, I mirrored around the corner into the family room. It was empty. I stepped out and did a quick scan. A large flat-screen TV sat at my end of the room. A dining area, separated from the kitchen by a low counter, was located at the other. In the middle was a sliding glass door to the backyard. I walked over and unlocked this door and tested it. It slid silently, so I closed it but left it unlocked as a secondary escape route. The stairway upstairs was located next to the dining room.
The plan we worked out was for me to spend no more than five minutes on the main floor followed by five minutes upstairs, and then two more in the basement. I needed to be in and out in under twelve minutes.
Satisfied that no one was in the family room, I searched the remainder of the main floor. In addition to the family room/dining room, kitchen, and office, which I’d already seen, there was a living room and a guest bedroom that, judging from the mess inside, was clearly being used. In fact, in stark contrast to the squared-away appearance of the big house on Fortieth, this place was a pit. It looked like a frat house. The place reeked of marijuana-an ashtray held the remains of half a dozen joints, and a glass bong sitting nearby was still full of smoke. Must have been an appetizer before lunch. Beer bottles and half-full ashtrays littered the tables.
CDs and DVDs were strewn everywhere. Magazines were tossed here and there. Judging by the covers, it appeared as though the most popular subject was sports, followed closely by pornography. I quietly made my way around the main floor, taking a number of pictures on my cell phone as I went.
When I was finished with the main floor, I went upstairs. I didn’t think anyone was home, but still, I tried to step on the sides of the treads closest to the walls in an effort to minimize squeaking. There were six bedrooms upstairs, three on either side of a long hallway. My intent was to first, do a quick blitz and make sure I was the only one up here. After that, I would work my way down the hall and inspect each room more carefully as I went. It was unlikely that I’d see any of Isabel’s personal property here, but I did hope to locate some ID-type things-mailing addresses, magazine labels, package labels, that sort of thing. In fact, I saw quite a bit and photographed all of it. A bedroom at the far end of the hall had been turned into a photography studio. It had a camera mounted on a tripod with a couple of photographic lights, complete with umbrellas. I took more pictures with my phone. I had just finished and stepped back into the hallway when suddenly, my radio crackled to life.
“Danny-the black Impala just pulled up!” Toni said urgently. “You gotta get out now!”
I reached the stairs and started down.
“They’re at the porch,” Toni said. “Get out.”
“I’m moving,” I whispered back.
Five seconds later, I reached the bottom of the stairs-just as the front door started to open. My total warning had been maybe twenty seconds.
I considered my options and decided to escape through the family room back door. I took a step toward the door when it suddenly dawned on me that this door was directly in the line of sight of anyone coming through the front door. I’d be seen immediately. Worse, the office where I’d entered was on the opposite side of the room-I’d again be in their line of sight. I was cut off from both of my escape routes. Dumb!
I was fast approaching a dangerous situation-out of answers and out of ideas. This was bad. I looked around quickly and noticed a door at the back of the kitchen-apparently a pantry. Any port in a storm. I headed for the pantry door, hoping that behind it wasn’t just a stack of shelves, but instead would be a space at least deep enough that I could step inside. Maybe I could figure out a better answer there. Failing that, things were about to get physical.
I lucked out. The pantry was maybe five feet square-not huge, but big enough for me. I stepped inside and pulled the door most of the way shut behind me, leaving just a little crack to look through. I was just in time because I hadn’t even taken a breath when I caught a quick glimpse of two men as they walked past my narrow field of view into the family room. I heard the sound of a set of keys landing on the kitchen counter.
“Why’d he send us back, anyway?” one of the men said. “Don’t need to be here no twenty-four hours a day. This is bullshit, yo.”
“Yeah, you think so? Why didn’t you just tell him, then?”
“Fuck that,” the first man said.
“That’s right. That’s what I thought you was gonna say.”
There was silence for a few seconds, and then the first man said, “I can see his face when I tell him that.”
Both men laughed, and then I heard the unmistakable sound of a lighter flicking. Back to the bong, it appeared.
“’Sides,” the second man said, trying to talk and hold in the smoke from a bong hit. He blew out the smoke and then continued, “he said they’d bring us something.”
“Probably some cold, soggy shit,” the first man said with disgust. “Let me have that.”
While the two of them proceeded to get stoned, I tried to take stock of my situation. The pantry had a very pungent odor that I recognized at once. I pulled out my Surefire pocket light and shielded it with my hand so that the light couldn’t be seen through the crack in the door. I pressed the button with my thumb and scanned the tight pantry. As I’d suspected. The shelves didn’t contain the items found in a normal kitchen pantry. There were probably a half-dozen cases of Heineken beer in familiar green bottles and another half-dozen cases of Pepsi. But the real intriguing item-the one I smelled-was the marijuana. There were ten kilo bricks-more than twenty pounds- probably worth close to $40,000. The bricks were wrapped in plastic, yet the pot inside was so aromatic that the smell emanated through anyway. I wanted to take a picture, but, unfortunately, there was no way my cell phone would take a decent photo in the darkness. Even though there was a light switch, I dared not turn it on.
It suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t noticed any weed on the table in the family room. If these two clowns ran out, they’d probably have to come to the pantry and get some more. What a surprise they’d get when they opened the door and saw me standing there, smiling at ’em. I might not even have to pull my.45-if they were stoned, the shock alone would probably do them in.
But comical as this dilemma was, it was bound to get serious fast if other people started returning to the house. Then I’d really be up shit creek. I needed to get moving.
I reached for my cell phone. Time to call in the cavalry.
Chapter 18
I waited. I could almost hear an imaginary clock ticking while the two men in the family room continued to banter as they passed the bong back and forth between them.
“I need a Heinie. You want one?”
“Yeah.”
I couldn’t see the man approach, but I heard him when his footsteps left the carpeted family room and stepped onto the tiled area in the kitchen. He walked over to the refrigerator.
“Yo!” he called out. “Last two.”
“Go ’head and get another six-pack out the pantry and throw it in,” the man in the family room called back. Uh-oh. That quick, I was out of time.
I reached down and silently drew my sidearm. When kitchen-man opened the door in about two seconds, the element of surprise would be all mine-at least for a few moments. I needed to capitalize on it. I made a quick plan. I would scream and burst out into the kitchen the moment the door opened. I’d shove kitchen-man back toward the family room with my left hand while covering both him and family room-man at the same time with my gun hand.
