Though dirty, it looked serviceable. But a trio of rusty barrels blocked it.
Ben walked over and tugged the handle. It wouldn’t budge.
“Aha.” He kicked the base of the door. “There’s a spiffy new padlock.”
“Look at the pavement near the wall.” Shelton pointed to a spot a dozen yards away, in the corner of the driveway. Red-brown accretions tarnished the concrete. “Those are rust stains, from these barrels. They used to be over there. Somebody’s hiding something!”
I puffed out my chest. “I’d like to take a moment to thank all the little people who contributed to my success. Shelton, you’ve always been a stand-up guy, and—”
“Can it, Hi.” Ben shoved one of the barrels. “Water, I think. Half empty.”
Tory was all business. “We have to get inside.”
“On it.” Ben tossed Shelton his shades, wrapped his arms around a barrel, lifted, and hauled it to the side. Golden eyes gleaming, he repeated the process three more times until the doorway was clear.
Tory looked at Shelton. Pointed to the padlock.
“Why not get Kit?” Shelton whined. “Why break in?”
“Because we don’t know if we’re right,” Tory said calmly. “What if these tracks have nothing to do with the theft? You feel like looking ridiculous?”
“Always bullying me into felonies,” Shelton mumbled.
He pulled out his key chain and selected from his trusty lock-pick set. In moments Shelton was on one knee, jimmying the padlock.
“Wish I’d never bought these stupid picks,” Shelton grumbled. “Now I’m a damn universal entry card.”
“Poor baby.” Tory squeezed Shelton’s shoulder. “Victim of your own talent.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Ben moved to the wall to keep watch. He needn’t have bothered.
In less than a minute I heard a click.
Shelton stood, handed Tory the padlock. “There.” Shaking his head. “One more B and E for my juvie record. I’ll never be president.”
“Pssh.” I flapped a hand. “The Oval Office is perfect for a criminal like you.”
Tory reached for the handle and pulled. This time, the door rose easily.
Single file, we snuck inside.
Chapter 7
Last to enter, I lowered the door behind us.
Little daylight cut through the dirt-crusted windows high overhead, leaving the room draped in shadows. Safely alone in the dark, we all pocketed our shades.
“Ben?” Tory’s irises blazed in the gloom. “Find a switch, please.”
Why? We can see just fine.
But I searched the wall and flipped on the halogens. Light flooded the depot.
My eyes quickly adjusted.
When flaring, everything I did was quick.
Tory, Hi, and Shelton had clustered in the center of the room.
I looked around. We were in a typical mechanics’ garage.
The room was a large square, with three vehicle bays stationed against the far wall, each housing a pair of four-wheel ATVs. Between the bays, large windows looked in on several small offices accessed by a door in the corner.
Heavy equipment lined the left-hand wall, along with metal shelves and three bulky storage bins. The right-hand wall held a row of workstations, each with a tool chest, stool, and large table. A second door led to the other section of the building.
I recognized a few items. Others left me baffled.
LIRI is remote and needs full-service maintenance capability. Short of actually making spare parts, this facility could handle just about any breakdown.
“Check this bad boy out!” Hi was admiring one of the four-wheelers. “Vroom vroom! What I wouldn’t give to take this puppy for a spin.”
“Break your fool neck.” Shelton rapped an odd metal grillwork welded to its rear. “What’s this thing? Looks like a giant bicycle basket.”
“It is.” Tory said. “These ATVs are used to stock the monkey feeders scattered across the island. The feed bags are too heavy to carry, especially if you’re heading to the swamp, or up to Tern Point.”
“Nonsense.” Hi slipped into the driver’s seat. “These are terrorist first-response vehicles. We keep them to repel pirate attacks. Or to fight the monkeys, when they finally evolve and try to take our planet.”
“Doofus.” I barked a laugh.
Tory suddenly stiffened. “I smell it!”
Three heads swung her way.
“My bad.” Hi’s face flushed scarlet. “It’s a big room, and I didn’t think anyone would notice if—”
“No.” Tory waved off the comment. “And, ew, by the way.”
Tory stuck her nose to the grillwork. Inhaled. “Here! Same scent as on the wood chip.” Her eyes widened as something clicked. “It’s the monkey chow! Wheat. Soybean. Raisins. Why didn’t I put it together before?”
Shelton raised the roof. “Which means we’re on the money!”
Tory’s eyes cut to me. “Does the other depot service feeder ATVs?”
I knew the answer. “Nope. It houses two more four-wheelers, but they’re lighter models used mostly for vet emergencies.”
I slapped the vehicle beside me. “These babies do all the feeder runs.”
“So where do they store the grub?” Hi hopped down. “That’s the question, right?”
You know that, too, Benny boy.
I pointed to the hulking bins in the left corner. “Right. There.”
We raced over. Three minivan-sized storage containers were lined up in a row. Each had a single yard-square metal door, set five feet off the ground. A pair of steel steps had been welded to the base of each bin for easier access.
“They’re big enough,” Shelton said. “You could hide a horse inside one of these.”
Hi flourished a hand toward the grimy bins. “A trio of boxes, but only one prize.” He wrapped an arm around Tory’s shoulder, pretending to hold a microphone in his other hand. “Young lady, you’re our next contestant!”
I felt a pang of jealously, but stomped it to death.
Dumb. Dumb dumb dumb.
Tory played along, wide-eyed and enthusiastic. “What can I win? A new Prius?”
Hi arched a single brow. “Choose correctly, and you’ll receive the undying respect and admiration of your peers! Plus a Twinkie.”
Then his yellow eyes narrowed, his tone dropping to an ominous growl. “Choose wrong, and we’ll lock you inside the bin, then feed you to the monkeys.”
“Sounds wonderful!” Tory stepped forward and inspected her options. Then she pointed to the filthiest of three. “This one.”
“May I ask why?” Hi extended his fake mike.
Her reply was non-nonsense. “Because it’s the only one locked.”
She climbed the steps and lifted a glossy black padlock securing the bin’s door.
“Oh man.” Shelton kicked the base of the container, then winced and grabbed his foot. “Ouch! That was stupid. Don’t anybody else do that.”
“Check the other two first?” I suggested.
“Obviously.” Hi stepped up, swung a bin door, and peered inside. “Filled to the brim with monkey feed. And I’m not gonna lie, this stuff looks mighty tasty. Like a giant box of trail mix. When are we eating lunch, anyway?”
“I hope the gear isn’t buried in there,” Shelton said. “Could get messy.”
“Not a good place for storing laptops.” Hi hopped back down to the floor. “Might void the warranty.”
I opened the next bin with an echoing clang.
“Nothing.” Sticking my head inside. “Empty.”
Hi reached up and grabbed Tory’s hand. “Looking good for that Twinkie!”