Page 111 of The Dead Come to Stay
“Gotcha,” he said, pulling into the car park. Beside him, Green gripped the dash.
“Boss? We better call for backup,” she said. Parked to one side, not far from the entrance, was a large, black SUV.
Chapter 31
Thursday, 21:20
MacAdams and Green hugged the wall near the door, just in the shadow of the oversize glass awning.
“Security lights only down here,” Green said. “A place like this must have night watchmen or something, right?”
“Not if Burnhope doesn’t want anyone to know he was here,” he said.
Green had one shoulder around the curve of the entry. Now she crept forward and tried the door.
“Locked,” she said.
“I figured.” MacAdams liked to be prepared for road hazards and other unexpected obstacles—for which he kept a sizable toolkit in his car. “Stand back.”
“If you set alarms off, he’ll know we’re here.”
“It won’t,” MacAdams said. “He doesn’t want witnesses—human or electronic. He’ll have turned off the security cameras. That should also mean the alarms aren’t wired.”
At least, he hoped so. MacAdams lifted the hammer, an oldclaw variety. One benefit of Burnhope’s love of glass was how easy you could break it. He pulled his arm back.
“Whoa, whoa, boss!” Green held her arm out, almost in peril of being struck. “Someone’s coming.”
A torch beam stabbed at their eyes, and a tinny voice came through a speaker above them: “Get gone, or I’ll call police!”
“We are the police,” MacAdams said, holding his identification up to the door. The man came for a closer look, then they heard the buzzer sound.
“Sorry, mate. Been a spot of bother—kids. Security, me. Can I ’elp?”
“What’s going on upstairs?” MacAdams asked.
“Nobody up there.”
“The lights are on,” Green said. “We can see the whole floor lit up.”
“They leave ’em on purpose, like. Cheaper than the on-and-off. Anyway, no trouble ’ere.” He’d begun to close the door again; MacAdams took a page from Green’s book and wedged his foot in the gap.
“You’re security? What time did you get here tonight?” he asked.
“Look, mate, I’ve a job to do—rounds. Le’ go.”
“Answer the question,” Green said.
“Em? Six. And no one’s come round. No trouble, I’m sayin.So...” He shoved the door, hard; MacAdams grimaced at the pinch, then nodded to Green. They both shoved on the door at once, knocking the guard backward. MacAdams stepped inside first.
“Arrived at six and haven’t noticed the black SUV outside?” MacAdams gave him a swift looking-over. White shirt, canvas pants. No tie, no nameplate. “Where’s your uniform?”
“Got my ID right here.” The man flashed a plastic badge and key swipe. “Now look you, I can’t ’ave you wanderin’ round.”He’d been backing up all the while, putting a bit of distance between them. MacAdams closed it.
“You remind me of someone, you know that?” he said. “About your height. Voice like yours. He was carrying a load of antiques down theapples and pears.”
“You got it wrong, mate,” he said. “I don’t know nofink about that—” His right hand slipped backward as he spoke. Backward and hip height.
MacAdams wasn’t sure which of them acted first, but they saw the danger as if with a single mind. MacAdams rushed him, hitting him in the chest, but it was Green who flipped him, stripped him of the gun and got a knee—hard—in the middle of his back.
