"Yeah," Gene said, surveying the interior. He pointed to a small gray box next to the door, connected to a modern-looking phone. "We need to get in there. How do you feel about bypassing the alarm?"
Carl raised his eyebrows. "This isn't the movies, Gene. That kind of thing takes time and the right equipment. I can't see the box very well. I think it's a GoldShield. The bad news is that they're a pretty reliable retail alarm. The good news is that I've bypassed a bunch of them."
"Can you do it?" Gene asked.
"I can definitely shut it off, but maybe not before it calls the police. Let me get my kit." He walked back to the car.
Doug looked at Gene. "You sure this is a good idea, Gene? If the cops show up…."
"Yeah, I know," Gene said. "I think it's worth the risk. You stay in the car, and the two of you take off if Carl botches the alarm. Assuming I get away, meet me at the diner two blocks that way." Gene indicated the direction with his thumb.
"What, and just leave you to the police? I don't think so, Gene."
Gene smiled. "I appreciate the support, but I'm not asking. Better me than all three of us. If they catch me, it's up to you to find Renner. Do it."
Doug stomped over to the car, cursing under his breath. Carl walked up to the door and set down his bag. "What's his problem?"
"His problem is that he's the getaway driver. If you can't shut off the alarm, run to the car." Carl looked annoyed, so Gene held up a hand to cut off an interruption. "I'll go inside and find out what I can in the few minutes before the local PD gets here. Get to it."
Carl opened his bag and removed something similar to a hand-held multi-meter. He touched the door and the frame of the building with the leads, fiddled with a dial, and did it again. Gene watched up and down the street. A few minutes later Carl put the device away. "There's nothing super-fancy going on. Seems like a pretty standard commercial burglar alarm."
He removed an electric screwdriver, a police-issue flashlight, and two pairs of wire cutters from the bag, one large and one small. He handed the large cutters to Gene and set the other two tools on the ground. "After I break the glass, we've got maybe sixty seconds, tops. You need to cut a hole through that wire mesh, open the door, then get out of the way so I can get to that box. Then we pray that I cut the right wire. Okay?"
Gene nodded and opened the cutter. Carl picked up the screwdriver and small cutters in his left hand, the flashlight in his right. Shielding Gene with his body, he smashed the window with the light. A recurring beep sounded over the tinkle of falling glass.
Gene hacked at the wires, jammed his hand through the hole, and unlocked the door. Carl barreled past him and hustled to the security box. He had it open in eighteen seconds. "Shit! It's custom." Carl spent thirteen seconds studying the wire layout.
"Hurry up," Gene said. Carl cut a wire. The beeping continued. He cut another, with no effect. A third cut and the beeping stopped. Carl inspected the LED display on the front of the box and gave Gene a thumbs-down. "We're toast." Gene yanked the phone off the wall and dropped it into Carl's hands. He pointed toward the door.
"Take that, get in the car, and get out of here. Call the new prepaid in twenty-four hours. Meanwhile, work on pulling info out of that phone." Carl opened his mouth to protest, and Gene shoved him toward the door. "Go!"
Carl stumbled out of the store and ran to the car, shaking his head at Doug. Doug waited for Carl to close the door, then gunned the gas. In seconds they vanished out of sight. Gene turned his attention to the store. He vaulted the first case and stepped around the back counter into a charnel house.
Gene turned off his emotional connection to the former humans on the floor and took in the scene. Two bodies, male, one Caucasian and one Asian, lay hog-tied on their stomachs with their shirts stuffed in their mouths. Their eyes gaped open, vacant, and unseeing. Flesh had been torn in strips from their backs. The Asian man's legs looked broken. The floor was sticky with congealed blood. A pocketknife lay on the floor next to several severed fingers. Gene noted that the register drawer was open, the till empty.
Gene knelt down and put his hand on the larger man's neck. The body was almost cold. We're at least half a day behind him. He searched the men for wallets, and the desk for anything that might lead him to Shelley. There were no books, no business records, no receipts. They'd been cleaned out.
A quick survey of the back room revealed a tiny office with an open, empty desk, and a small filing cabinet. A door stood in the middle of the right-hand wall; a trail of blood droplets led straight to it. Gene opened the filing cabinet and found four files. He stuffed them into his duffel bag, then pulled the cabinet away from the wall. There was nothing behind it. A quick search revealed no hidden compartments in the desk.