Page 103 of Natural-Born Cullers

“Just asking,” said Martin. “Feels a little weird playing peeping Tom on a kid, is all. Where’s the adult channel?”

As Simon shook his head, a text came through, and Simon plucked the phone from his trouser pocket. He stayed quiet for a moment, then flicked a look up to Light’s address.

“Okay, that’s us.” Simon slipped his phone away. “Out.”

Martin sighed, gave a stretch, then pushed open the door. “So,” he said over Simon’s Merc. “You’re just gonna go knock on the front door? Ask if the kettle’s boiled yet for a brew?”

Simon rested an arm on the top of the car. “Nope.” He tipped his head. “You are.”

Martin shut the door. “Yeah. Figured as much.”

He took the walk to the front door, conscious of the houses opposite and any shift of blind. Nosey Neighbours came with any neighbourhood, and true to Jack’s street, if anyone saw two guys walking down the street at 5 a.m., they suddenly turned blind and mute. The rear door was out of the question, as they backed on to another row of apartments, making it a fireman’s nightmare if anything went up in flames. But maybe that was the point: decrease the surplus population.

True to form, Light’s car wasn’t in sight outside of his address, and Martin breathed a long sigh as he reached the front door and went to tap on it.

Simon pulled his arm away, and Martin shot him a hard look. He got a nod at the door. “It’s hooked up to a charge.”

Simon ran a device close to the door, some kind of meter that didn’t need hooking up to what was being tested. The voltage count shot up, and Martin narrowed his look at the door.

“You didn’t know.”

Irritated, he glanced back at Simon. “How the fuck could I? He—” Oh. Martin folded his arms. “You knew back in the car he’d hooked something up to it.”

Simon flashed half a smile. “Just wanted to see exactly how much… or little he whispered in your ear.”

“Whatever it was he whispered in mine, he was fucking quick enough not to get noticed, unlike us pair and how we’re left standing here, waiting to see which of our dicks get lit up in his game ofOperation.”

Simon was already sorting through for his phone as he snorted a smile. “When you rented the place, was it a Smart meter with the electricity?”

“It was a fucking apartment. Anything beyond that, I didn’t give a fuck about.”

“Smart meter,” Simon mumbled. “That and the in-home display communicate via a secure national network.”

“Why the fuck should I care about that?”

Simon carried on working away for a moment. “Meaning….” He pressed Send on his phone, and the only thing that happened was that it gave him the go ahead to tentatively touch the door, then work something into the lock when no shock came. “The main supply can be cut off, and all you then have left to handle is the residual charge.” He opened the door, just an inch, then pulled out some electrician pliers. “Find the wire….” He ran the rubber end of the pliers down the crack of the door. “Then when you cut it….” A quick snap was heard, followed by a number of popping noises down the hall. “It trips the main circuit board, knocking out the downstairs supply.”

He eased to his feet and pushed the door open, holding it wide for Martin.

“Oh and don’t you look fucking smug.”

Simon grinned and waved him in. “After you, asshole.”

Martin took the walk, and the run of wire crossing the door to wall at the handle and door knock level took his attention. It skipped across to the main trip box high in the corner, and it didn’t exactly put him in a good mood. He didn’t like working blind on this side of Light.

There was no other disturbance in the apartment. Not even a creak of stair to where a door stood open, leading down to the basement.

A flicker of light came from it, and it seemed to pause along with them for a moment, then swept away from the stairwell as if losing interest.

Giving a sigh, Simon nodded, and Martin let his eyes adjust to darkness again and headed over. He didn’t keep his steps careful on the stairs. Light knew they were here, and it didn’t seem to have too much impact on what he was doing.

Fine by him.

More light filtered in at the bottom of the stairs, suggesting a few torches, and Martin made his way into a room full of work units. Whoever had owned it previously, they’d liked tinkering about with woodwork down here. Chippings peppered the floor.

His back to them, a mug of hot chocolate steaming the night at his side, Light worked at the far end, close to a small window that offered ventilation. The tribal scarf was gone, leaving him working without worrying over being recognised. His jumper lay discarded on the unit close by too, the black sleeveless V-shirt calling out more comfort for fighting, and it kept Simon back.

Martin left Simon to his Mexican standoff and took comfort on a worktop by easing his ass up onto it. “You didn’t take the meds into account, Piper. Nor how Jan was sick. Your poison nearly took us all out.”

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