Page 76 of Psycho
Trepidation burrowed into Lucas’s chest. “Yeah, but we’re down to ninety minutes.”
“So, stop interrupting so we can come up with a plan,” Adam offered, rolling his eyes.
Lucas leaned back, nodding. “Sorry, go ahead.”
Another red circle appeared over a rectangular shape. “This is one of two shipping containers on the property. This one could possibly be Kohn’s mobile torture chamber. But, unfortunately, there’s also this one back here. Either of these could be what we’re looking for. She could be in either, or neither. There’s no way to know until boots are on the ground.”
“Is there a side entrance to the building?” Thomas asked.
Arrows began to appear. “There’s a door here, which is—I’m assuming—an office, and there are the two open bay doors that, according to Monk, are operational. Then there’s a door that leads directly into the junkyard. The yard itself has ten-foot fences with razor wire. There might also be dogs.”
“God, I fucking hate dogs,” Atticus muttered.
Noah’s face contorted in disgust. “What kind of monster hates dogs?”
“One who got bit on the ass by a boxer during an assignment and needed stitches and two rounds of antibiotics,” Archer murmured, taking a sip of something clear—more than likely with an alcohol content.
“I hope you mean the dog breed,” Noah said.
“As if Atticus would ever lower himself to bed a mere boxer. He’s saving himself for an heiress,” Asa said around a laugh.
“Enough!” Thomas shouted. “Just be aware that there may be guard dogs on the premises.”
“You’re not going to hurt the dogs, right?” Noah asked. “Right?” he reiterated at their silence. He turned to level a glare at his fiancé. “Adam Mulvaney, if you hurt a dog, don’t bother coming home.”
Lucas felt some level of amusement at the way Adam’s jaw dropped. “I—Wha—We don’t even know there are dogs!”
“I can’t believe you’d even consider hurting a dog,” Noah said, brooding.
Adam looked to the others, flummoxed. “How am I in trouble for hurting invisible dogs? What is happening right now?”
“But if there are dogs?” Noah prompted.
“If there are, we’ll make sure they’re not hurt,” Adam muttered obediently.
“Not one hair on their fuzzy little heads,” Noah repeated vehemently.
Archer snickered. “You’re so whipped.”
Adam flicked him off. “You’re just mad you curl up with a whiskey bottle every night.”
“Jesus Christ. Can we just get on with it?” Atticus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“We still have no way in,” Avi reminded them. “What’s our best bet?”
“We could scale the razor wire, hit ‘em from the back,” Asa suggested.
“No,” August said. “We go in through the front.” He stood, walking to the screen. “We position Asa and Avi here and here, on either side of the bay doors. Lob flash bangs in and lower the doors while they’re blind. The rest of us go in during the melee. Lucas and Atticus can advance into this back area, clear the rooms, then sweep the yard. Then we find Cricket and torch the place on the way out. After, have Calliope deliver evidence to the cops implicating the squeaky clean Russian.”
It was a good plan. Complicated given the logistics, but it was clear August and the others had executed a large scale massacre before. The only one looking even slightly concerned was Noah. Lucas was almost positive he was still worried about the dogs that may or may not exist within the junkyard.
“Why am I babysitting?” Atticus asked.
“Because you kind of suck at killing,” Adam reminded him.
Atticus seethed. “Are you never going to let this meat cleaver thing go?”
“It’s not just the meat cleaver, bro. You’re just…unlucky,” Asa said.
