Lieutenant Collins nodded. "Let's go," he ordered the three officers with him. They entered the building and headed up the stairs.
Collins knocked on the door. "Police. Open up."
There was no answer. Collins tried the doorknob, but the door was locked. He knocked again and stepped back. "This is the police. Open the door."
BLAM! Without warning, a bullet punched through the wooden door, passing through the spot where Collins had just been standing. All four officers stepped back.
Collins pulled out his radio. "Someone just shot at us through the door. Probably a warning shot, but I wouldn't take any chances."
Captain Roberts frowned. "All right. Come back down here and we'll call in a negotiator and some more guns."
Collins led the policemen back down the stairs past the invisible figure of Phil Smith.
Phil waited until the police were back outside, then activated his earpiece. "I'm on my way up the stairs," he told Grissom.
<I'm gonna wait a moment before I execute>, the mercenary informed him.
"They can't communicate with each other," Phil reasoned. "You're the one with the experience. Go in on your own timetable."
Grissom
"I'll do that," Grissom said as he surveyed the warehouse. It wasn't the stereotypical gigantic warehouse that every police flick found its way into at some point, but it wasn't tiny either. Griffin had informed him that Kit's other daughter was being held in the supply office on the second floor, but it looked like the entire facility had closed-circuit camera surveillance, and it might be difficult to get in without alerting the mobsters to his presence.
Unless he could take out the cameras somehow.
<Already done,> a voice informed him over his earpiece.
"Bloody 'ell," Grissom breathed, "you're not Phil."
<I wasn't the last time I checked,> the voice replied. <I'm the one who secured that information for you. I took the liberty of disabling the surveillance systems, since you might have a tough time of it.>
"How did you take out the cameras?" Grissom asked. "And how'd you get this bloody frequency?"
<Believe me,> Griffin replied, <you're better off not knowing.>
The earpiece went silent.
"Not exactly how I'm used to doing things," Grissom muttered to himself. He checked his gun and started to head toward the building.
A van rounded the corner and headed his way. Grissom stopped, turned, and headed the other direction. "Who the 'ell are you?" he muttered.
The SBC van pulled to a stop right by the manhole Grissom had used. A man wearing the usual SBC/Southwestern Bell/Ameritech uniform got out and walked up to Grissom. "You the guy who reported that the phones were out?" he asked.
Damn. Grissom thought a moment. "Yeah... yes. I am," he said. "I couldn't place a call from an office. I'm not from around here, as you might have guessed. I'm here from the UK on business, and... oh, wait... yes. The phones aren't working."
The SBC guy nodded. "We figured something was wrong when half our status lights for this grid started flashing. It was like a Christmas tree for a few minutes. I'll just take a look and we'll have this figured out in no time." He removed the manhole cover and dropped down. Grissom stealthily slipped down the ladder behind him.
The repairman switched on his flashlight and looked around. His eyes widened. "What the hell? It looks like a-"
Grissom struck the SBC man across the head with the butt of his gun. The man slumped over, and Grissom caught him before he hit the ground. "Can you hear me now?" the mercenary asked.
There was no reply.
"Good," Grissom said with a grin. "Hate to do that to ya, mate, but I can't have any random variables in this particular equation." Grissom removed the man's uniform shirt carefully and put it on. "And besides, I could use a new outfit."
