Deadly Edge: A Parker Novel Read Online Free Page B

Morris, waved, and came back down into the room.
    Keegan had already opened the other toolkit. The three masks he removed from it were made of black cotton and covered the entire head, with openings for eyes and mouth. The three handguns were all Smith & Wesson Model .39’s, a 9mm Luger automatic with an eight-shot clip. There were also three small blue packets: blue plastic laundry bags, costing a nickel each from a laundromat vending machine.
    They put on the masks and checked their guns and stowed the little laundry-bag packages in their pockets. Then Parker nodded to Briley, who flicked off the light switch and in darkness opened the door.
    There was some light in the hall outside, not much. But much more noise. Whenever the music ended, the crowd noise increased to a kind of ecstatic scream, fading as the music started up again, but gradually building through the next number till music and crowd seemed about equally matched by the end of the tune, when there would be another concerted scream.
    It was five past one; they’d been working fifty-five minutes since Parker first swung the ax into the roof.
    Parker was the first into the hall, looking to the right and left. Doors on both sides of the hall in both directions, mostly closed, a few standing open. No lights burning up at this level at all. Far down to the right a stairwell, with light shining up, reflecting off the palegreen corridor walls, giving light to see by down here.
    Parker turned right, and the other two followed, Briley turning the doorknob to be sure the lock wasn’t on, then shutting the door behind them. Keegan carried the one toolkit they still needed.
    The flooring was some sort of composition, similar to linoleum; the sneakers they wore made no sounds against it. They walked slowly, leaning slightly forward, their right hands holding the automatics ahead of them and out away from their bodies.
    If Morris saw trouble coming now, they were past the point where they could retrace their steps. Morris’s job would be to come in after them and let them know their primary exit was blocked; they had a second exit route planned for, and a third.
    The noise was coming up the stairwell almost undiluted by distance. Standing at the top, looking over the rail and down at six flights of brightly lit empty silent metal stairs, hearing the rush of sound coming up there and yet not seeing any living person, you could begin to stop hearing the music as music, but simply as noise. Then it became the workings of some gigantic machine in a pit in the earth, and men who went down into it were chewed and ground and mangled.
    “Jesus,” Keegan said. Looking out the eyeholes of the mask, his eyes looked frightened; not by the job they were here to do, but by the noise that was supposed to cover them while they did it.
    Parker started down the stairs. Briley came second, and Keegan third.
    The walls were plaster, and painted pale green. The stairs had a landing and a U-turn halfway down every flight. At the top floor the stairs had been open, but at thenext level down there was a wall, with a green metal fire door. A darker green than the walls. The door was closed.
    Parker put his hand on the knob and waited for the other two to come down to him. Then, quickly, he opened the door and stepped through.
    One of the notes with the map had said: “One private guard in the hall—armed—always watches show.” He was there, he was watching the show, he never saw Parker and the other two come in at all.
    On this floor, there were offices along one side of the corridor only, opposite the stairwell entrance. The other side of the corridor had sections of plate glass at intervals, through which could be seen the main soup bowl of the auditorium. The ceiling of the auditorium, barnacled with lighting equipment, was just above these plate-glass windows, giving the impression that one was viewing from above the auditorium rather than from within it—for the Caesar effect.
    It