The Enraged (A Jonathan Quinn Novel) by Brett Battles Page B

floorboard creak. He touched her arm and gave it a quick squeeze.
    Another creak, closer to the door this time.
    It wouldn’t be long now.
    __________
     
    T HERE HAD BEEN no need to pick the locks to get inside. The home in Arlington Ridge was a safe house known to O & O. Terminal Eight had simply supplied the entry codes to Witten, who had then passed them on to his team.
    Suggs used the rear-door code to enter through the kitchen, while Witten utilized the one for the front door. Per earlier instructions, Johnson and Brown remained outside to secure the perimeter.
    Witten stepped over the threshold into an unadorned entryway. His night vision goggles firmly in place, he could see he was alone. The short foyer led into the main part of the house, where he found a living room, dining area, kitchen, and Suggs.
    Using well-practiced hand signals, he learned that Suggs had also spotted no one. Together they moved over to the carpeted stairway leading up to a second floor. Witten went up first. When he reached the top, he paused and listened. Given the hour, if the house was occupied, chances were the trespassers would be asleep, and Witten and Suggs would be able to contain them without a struggle.
    There were five doors in the hallway—four to the left and one to the right. Witten ordered Suggs right, and he went left. The first room he came to was a bedroom with two sets of bunk beds. All the mattresses were bare—no sheets, no blankets. The next door opened into a bathroom that had several unused towels piled on the counter.
    Before he could get to door number three, Suggs crept up behind him. With a shake of his head, Suggs let Witten know the room to the right was unoccupied.
    Together, they moved to the next doorway. More bunks, only this time, sheets and a blanket rested on the bottom mattress of the bunk against the far wall. The bedding was in a tangle, as if the covers had been pushed away in a hurry.
    Witten scanned the room before walking over to the mattress and putting his hand on the sheets. Even though the house was not particularly cool, he could tell right away the sheets were warmer than ambient temperature. Someone had been lying there—what, ten minutes earlier? Fifteen? No more than that.
    He and Suggs retreated back to the hallway and approached the final door. Once more there were two sets of bunks, and like the room they’d just left, one of the mattresses had been used in the last half hour.
    So where were the targets? And why were only two beds used and not three? Had they split up? Were these even the right people?
    Witten didn’t like questions. Questions made jobs messy. And messy was never good.
    They rechecked each of the rooms, making sure to examine every potential hiding place. In the closet of the master bedroom, they found a narrow trapdoor that opened into an attic.
    Witten grimaced. Limited-access attics were a bitch. Push it open, stick your head in, and bang , bullet to the face. That was not a risk he was interested in taking.
    He examined the trapdoor. There were two sliding locks screwed into the wood at one end. Both were open so he slid them into locked position, and pushed gently up on the hatch. It didn’t move. If anyone had gone into the attic, the person was not getting out without making a lot of noise.
    Satisfied, he and Suggs headed back downstairs, to the only place left they hadn’t checked. The basement.
    It was accessed via a rough set of wooden steps leading down from a doorway in the kitchen. From the top of the stairs, Witten could see the room below was unfinished—grimy concrete walls surrounding an even dirtier concrete floor. The partial view also revealed a few boxes piled here and there, but to see the full basement he would have to go down. He didn’t need to be stupid about it, though.
    Leaving Suggs to keep an eye on things, Witten left the house and hustled down the street to where their car was parked. Digging through the equipment kit in the