Green Ice: A Deadly High by Christian Fletcher

of sight for as far as you can,” Mancini hissed. He hugged the wall of the adjacent building beside the gateway and crept forward. Trey followed in Mancini’s footsteps, replicating every move he made.
    Mancini stayed in the building’s shadow while crossing the driveway. He approached the left side of the central building, keeping a watch on Jorge above him on the balcony. Trey followed, treading lightly on the blacktop covered path. Jorge seemed too preoccupied with his phone call and who or what was inside his apartment. Mancini handed Trey a pair of close fitting, black gloves and led the way to an open staircase at the left of the building. He rushed up the steps, his footfalls almost silent. Trey likened Mancini’s movements to a hunting panther as he struggled to keep pace up the stairway. Mancini stopped at the stairway summit and took a peek through the gap in the door. He slipped on his tactical gloves and motioned for Trey to do the same.
    Mancini whipped out the Heckler and Koch handgun from the back of his waistband , before he slipped through the fire door leading to the upper balcony. He held the weapon out in front of him double handed, aiming the barrel at Jorge’s head. Trey followed onto the balcony and drew his own firearm, keeping it pointed down at his side.
    The near naked man still jabbered in Spanish into his cell phone and didn’t notice Mancini and Trey approach. He leaned his head inside the apartment threshold and Mancini could tell the guy was in a state of panic by the tone of his voice. Jorge seemed to be staring into his room, looking out for something inside. Mancini stealthily closed the distance between him and Jorge, looming behind him. In one fluid movement, Mancini wrenched the cell phone from Jorge’s grasp, tossed it over his shoulder and over the side of the balcony, then pressed the barrel of his handgun against the back of the near naked man’s head. Jorge gasped and made to turn around but Mancini pushed the Heckler and Koch barrel harder against his skull.
    “Hi Jorge, don’t turn around now,” Mancini said quietly. “Go right on inside your apartment and don’t try to run or I’ll shoot you right in the head. You understand?”
    Jorge nodded slightly and went to speak.
    “Keep it quiet, Jorge. Talk to me when we get inside. Are you alone in here? Shake or nod.”
    “No…yes…kind of,” he stuttered.
    “You spoke, Jorge. I told you not to. That’s a big black mark against your chances of surviving this ,” Mancini hissed. “Let me rephrase. Is there anybody who’s armed inside this shitty place?”
    “No,” Jorge grunted. “But…”
    Mancini shoved the man forward into the room space but kept his firearm trained on the back of his torso as Jorge stumbled into the apartment. Trey followed Mancini inside and hurriedly shut the door behind them. He felt his hands sweating inside the gloves and his legs shook slightly. Trey had never shot a person in anger before and he hoped the situation could be resolved without a round being fired.
    Jorge turned to face Mancini with an expression of shock and fear engulfing his face. A furious pounding noise reverberated around the small room. Mancini and Trey glanced to their right to the source of the noise. They looked at a closed door and heard growls and yelps from the room beyond. Mancini turned his attention back to Jorge.
    “Have you got a dog locked up in there, Jorge?”
    Jorge raised his arms above his head and rapidly shook his head. Sweat poured down his face and he kept glancing nervously at the closed door.
    “Don’t open it,” he stammered. “There is a girl in there. She…she was dead not so long ago.”
    Trey felt his skin turn to gooseflesh. Did he hear the cowering dork right?
    “Oh, I have no intention of opening that door,” Mancini said. “Now, you know what we’ve come here to take back, don’t you Jorge?”
    Jorge made a strange gurgling sound as he nodded his head. “Yeah, but the