“We know what we’re doin’,” Brandt averred. “From here on out, Joe an’ I are gonna take turns keepin’ an eye on the place, to make sure nothin’ happens ‘fore we’re ready, anyhow.”
“Right,” Hennig confirmed.
“Okay. So all systems are go for the next little dinner party at the Carter place?” Carr asked. “Whenever that turns out to be?”
“I’d say so,” Bradly decided. “Peabody, what do you think?”
Peabody raised an eyebrow… then scowled.
“I think it can’t happen soon enough to get rid of that sophomoric altar boy in my office, but I guess I’ll have to wait a while longer,” he all but growled, sounding cold and intensely annoyed.
The next day, as Brandt watched, a white panel van – Harcourt Plumbing prominent on the side, and no one but a driver sitting in the cab – pulled up to the gate of the Carter residence. It sat there for a few seconds, then the automated gate unlocked, and the driver eased through, headed down the driveway to the big house. The van pulled into the garage – the door was apparently still wide-open from the day before – and the driver got out and entered the house through the garage door.
Five minutes later, Brandt saw another vehicle pull up to the Carter driveway entrance, this one a truck marked Cleveland Automated Systems, with a driver and passenger, both in what looked to be coveralls. It, too, paused at the gate for verification of some sort before the gate opened to let it into the property. It parked next to the panel van inside the garage, and both men got out. One went to the garage door itself, the other to the control panel nearby. They pulled out some hand tools and went to work.
Five minutes after that, the garage door closed fully – and stayed closed.
Three minutes later, the door opened again. Within thirty seconds, and at the command of the worker at the control panel, it closed once more and remained closed.
Five minutes after that, the garage door opened once more and the Cleveland Automated Systems truck exited, leaving the Harcourt Plumbing van inside. The garage door closed behind the truck, as it was supposed to do; the Cleveland truck trundled down the drive and opened the gate, then exited, as the gate closed behind it.
Brandt, hidden behind and between several cubes of brick for construction on the adjacent lot – which had been temporarily halted due to intermittent thunderstorms in the area, brought about by a large tropical storm that had moved inland over the Imperial City – watched it go.
Then he turned back to Carter’s house and stared at the blank façade.
When the next rain storm came in, he scuttled for the nearest cover, looking to stay dry and avoid the lightning.
The van driver was, in reality, ICPD detective and disguise expert Adrian Mott, fully undercover, and he was anything but alone in the van. As soon as the automation truck came along and ICPD detectives Peter Rassmussen and Timothy Jones ‘fixed’ the garage door and got it closed, several other members of ‘The Team’ from the ICPD Investigations division piled out of the back of the van. These included Alan Compton, John Smith, and Roger Armbrand. They joined Mott inside the house, while Rassmussen and Jones completed their subterfuge and departed, leaving the garage door closed, and the interior therefore invisible to anyone from without who might be surveying the premises.
“And we already know, ‘cause Tim watched while they installed the packages, they weren’t smart enough to set video cameras to keep an eye on things,” Mott noted. “Alan, you’re our electronics guy. I’m here for set dressing, and John and Roger are here to help you. So you three get to it.”
“Okay, guys,” Compton said. “I’m thinking what we want to do first is to verify that the gas isn’t already leaking...”
“Done did,” Smith noted, waving a small gas detector, identical to what the gas systems inspectors used. “We’re clean. They haven’t triggered that one yet.”
“Good,” Armbrand averred. “Otherwise, we might have to try to do this with the garage door partway up for the sake of ventilation, and that runs the risk of our work being detected. Alan, you’re the guru on this. Where shall we start?”
“I want to get the gas line on the hot water heater disconnected from their timer device, first,” Compton decreed. “They’ll need to set that one early, to get the gas levels in the house high enough for an explosion, so we want it disconnected as soon as possible. Adrian, jack into the breaker controls in VR and shut down the power for the circuits in the master bathroom – I dunno if it’s got windows or not, but we want it to look dead, if it does – and in here, just in case the lighting shows around the garage door. Ping Lee if you can’t locate which ones they are.”
“Got it,” Mott said, his gaze going distant. “There.”
The lights in the garage died, and Armbrand promptly switched on a special lantern, setting it on the worktable nearby. It illuminated their entire workspace nicely, but the positioning Armbrand had used ensured that the van blocked it from shining on the garage door. The fact that they’d already set up some special partitions expressly brought along to block the light also helped.
“Good. That’s perfect. Let’s get started,” Compton noted.
“Okay,” Armbrand said. “Alan, you’re the surgeon; Johnny, you’re the head nurse. I’m the go-fer, and Adrian, you see if you can’t VR into the Director’s security system and keep an eye on things outside.”
“All over it,” came the joint response.
“Johnny, can you get out the mini tool kit, while I look at this…?” Compton wondered, bending over the
