Hardbingers

11

Jack listened to Davis and Miller dicker to a compromise: They wouldn't call the feds yet; instead they'd watch the storage area and make the call when the terrorists showed. Miller wanted a vantage point far enough away that they wouldn't be seen and scare them off.

"That way we nab them all," Miller said. "I'll feel better about that." Jack was thinking about how long it would take the agents to get to Staten Island from the FBI field office in downtown Manhattan. On a Sunday night, with flashers going, pretty damn quick. Even quicker with a copter.

After surveying the lay of the land they decided the best watch nest was the roof of a ten-story apartment house about half a mile inland. It promised a clear view of the storage lot and of this cubicle in particular.

If tomorrow was indeed detonation day, the terrorists would have to load up today or tonight. More likely tonight.

They left Miller to watch the cubicle while Jack, Davis, and Zeklos raced to Red Hook for field glasses and food for the surveillance. Jack pulled his handy-dandy tool kit from his trunk, then the two of them headed back to Staten Island sans Zeklos.

"I had to side with Miller this time," Davis said. "Zek's not going to contribute anything to the surveillance, so he shouldn't be along."

Jack said nothing, but the lost look on the little man's face had followed him all the way back to the car.

The apartment building was a brick-faced, low-income box. Getting in was easy: Someone had broken the lock on the front entry doors and so they waltzed right through.

The door to the roof, however, presented a problem.

NO EXIT ALARM WILL SOUND

Jack checked its edges and found the magnetic contact sensor along the top. It had been crudely installed, leaving the wires exposed.

Davis grunted. "Probably works about as well as everything else in this place. That is, not at all."

"I wouldn't want to count on that," Jack said. "This is too important."

He heard a metallic snikt! behind him. He turned and saw that Miller had flicked open a knife. The overhead light reflected off the four-inch blade.

"Just cut the wires and forget about it."

Jack grabbed his arm as he raised the knife.

"That'll only work on an open-circuit model. This is probably closed."

Davis frowned. "So what?"

"Open circuit means there's no flow-through of current. The circuit is held open by the magnetic contact on the door. Opening the door removes the magnet and the circuit snaps closed, sending a signal to the alarm. Cutting the wires works just fine for them. But the closed-circuit model has continuous flow-through. Cut the wires and you're busted. Almost everything's closed circuit these days. How come you guys don't know this?"

Davis shrugged. "Stealth isn't a big part of our MO."

"So what do we do?" Miller said. "Stand around with our thumbs up our asses while those Islamic turds load up their cars?"

"We can jump the wires, but that takes time. So let's try this."

He opened his tool kit and checked through the side pockets until he found a quarter-size disk. He held it up.

"This little doodad is an NIP magnet—don't ask me what the letters stand for. The important thing is there's ten pounds of lift in this baby."

He slipped the disk between the magnet and the sensor. It snapped up against the sensor, keeping the circuit closed. Jack pushed open the door.

"We're in business."

He turned to find Davis and Miller gawking at him.

Davis pointed to the tool kit. "What's that? A Felix the Cat bag? What else've you got in there?"

"This and that."

Miller's eyes narrowed. "You've got your uses, mister. But where'd you learn so much about burglar alarms?"

"Heir School. Let's go."