Page 43 of Mike

“Mmm, hmm,” was the answer.

Joe grinned. “Sounds like fun.” Her brain engaged quickly. “Would you be interested in listening to an idea on how you can win?”

Another grunt. Clearly Mike was on the move, but she took the non-answer as an affirmative.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” she began. “Put your phone on speaker, then leave it by a tree, or behind a rock or something. Somewhere it’s not visible, but the audio will still carry.”

“Then?” Mike asked, under his breath.

“Then hide.” Her amusement grew, picturing the scenario. “I’ll count to fifty, after which I’ll start making a skink-ton of ambient noise. When Cisco sneaks in to investigate what the hell he’s hearing, you take advantage of his distraction, get the drop on him, and bam! You’re the boss of his arrogant little tushy.”

“Sweet,” Mike whispered into the phone. “Two taps.”

The truncated order made sense to her. “You’ll give me two taps after you’ve planted your device?” she clarified.

“Yeah,” he murmured back.

“Done.”

Joe waited, almost giddy. When was the last time she’d had so much innocent fun? She couldn’t remember, but…

Frock!

She shouldn’t just be laying here like a lump. She needed to prepare. Stat. Keeping her phone close to her ear to catch Mike’s alert, she rummaged around in her kitchen drawer and found a roll of aluminum foil, quickly pulling off a good length. Yes. That would do for starters. She glanced around the small kitchenette with a practiced eye. Ahah. Another prop. The electric can opener would be perfect.

But those two things weren’t quite enough.

Joe snapped her fingers. Dry cereal. She reached for the box on an open shelf.

Yeah. That would confuse the hell out of Cisco.

She gathered all three items together, placing them on the counter, and waited.

It was official. Joe was woozy with glee.

When the taps finally came, Joe almost forgot to count, but eventually caught up by starting at ten. When she got to her goal, it was time to play. She took the length of foil she’d pulled off, and shook it until it made a low, thunder-like sound.

Once she’d exhausted that over a short period, she sent a hand to the can opener which she’d plugged in. She covered it with a dish towel, then holding her phone next to it, she hit the top bar to activate the appliance. A satisfying whir was emitted; a noise that would have a hard time being identified.

She timed it all so that, hopefully, when Cisco moved close enough to investigate the sound, she’d have switched things out for her last hurrah.

The cereal would be the ultimate coup-d’etat.

Pouring a decent amount onto her Formica countertop, she began crunching it with the heel of her hand. If that didn’t sound like footsteps on sticks and underbrush to an unsuspecting Cisco, she’d turn in her spy-card.

Joe kept up the noise for six or seven seconds, then quieted.

The trap had been baited. Now to see if Cisco would bite.

The next thing Joe heard was a series of beeps, signaling that the laser guns had engaged, add to that a lot of grunting, and… She just couldn’t tell what or who?—

“Goddammit, Mike. How the hell did you do that?” It was Cisco’s voice, sulky and PO’d at the same time.

Yes! It had worked. Mike was victorious.

Mike’s answering laughter flowed like liquid gold into Joe’s ears.

“I had a little help from a friend,” he snorted. She heard rustling over her phone. “Say hi to Elle.”

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