“I’m just going to take a look. If anyone’s looking back and I have to come running, I don’t want to have to wait to start the engine.”
“You don’t know what’s in there.”
“They’re here for a schoolteacher and a teenaged boy. They didn’t send a whole battalion and they’re not expecting one in return.”
“Just because the woman saw only one man outside her house doesn’t mean—”
“No time to argue. If you have to move, circle the block. But look for me here.”
He jumped out before she could say more, easing the door closed with a hip check to keep the sound low.
He slipped the Glock into the bellyband and started fast-walking toward the school, keeping to the shadows, his breath fogging in the morning air. His tactical analysis wasn’t crazy, of course, but neither was hers. The truth was, there was no way to be sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t put her in more danger than he already had. They’d fight about it later. And he would remind himself of what a privilege that was—to be alive, to be with her, no matter what.
He stopped at the end of the line of rowhouses, crouched, and eased his head past. This was the edge of the campus. At ninety degrees to his left and continuing straight ahead was an iron fence. But it was obviously for demarcation, not to keep out determined intruders.
He waited for a moment, listening. Nothing. Just the faint roar of traffic on Interstate 70 a mile south. Okay.
He vaulted the fence easily, eased out the Glock, and ran forward. He paused again alongside a tree to look and listen. Still nothing.
Ahead was the main building and the parking lot with the Prius and the UPS truck. The building was a rectangle with its length running north and south, meaning the main entrances were on the long east and west sides, and the side entrances were on the short north and south ends. Other things being equal, they would have used the north side—the entrance closest to where they’d parked.
Most of the building was dark, though he could see some light spilling out from the west entrance doors. Presumably, room lights were turned off at night; corridor lights got left on.
There were no more trees or other cover between his position and the building. But no trees meant no autumn leaves on the ground, only soundless grass. Just fifty feet in the dark. Unless they had a sentry and night-vision equipment, he ought to be okay. He tried not to think about how many people had died with unless as their last thought, or about how his analysis of their numbers and defensive posture was a hunch based on not much data.
He ran forward at a low crouch and reached the corner of the building in seconds. He paused, reassured by the feeling of the stone fa?ade against his back. He looked and listened. Nothing.
Ten feet along was a lightless ground-floor window. If someone was inside looking out, there was no way to pass unobserved. The chances were low. But the penalty for missing could be high.
He took a quick breath and darted past the window, stopping at the edge of the north entrance. No reaction he could detect from within.
Light was showing through the door’s windows. He flash-checked inside. Nothing.
He scanned again—all quiet—and turned his attention to the door. It was open a crack, and he immediately saw why: a magnet attached to the top of the metal jamb. A simple alarm reed-switch bypass. They’d located the alarm magnet with a laminated sensor shim and left everything taped in place for a quicker exit. Maybe not an operation sophisticated enough to knock over a bank, but not the Keystone Kops, either.
But they weren’t expecting opposition. And/or they didn’t have numbers. He guessed two inside, maybe three. More than that, and they would have left a sentry at the entrance.
He eased open the door and scanned the corridor left and right. Nothing. He slipped inside and soundlessly returned the door to its position.