End Days Super Boxset by Roger Hayden Read Free Book Online Page A

every so often. Things were quiet. Some shadowed figures huddled inside a fenced-in basketball court looked over as they pulled up.
    “Apparently, we’ve stumbled upon a Boy Scout meeting,” Patterson said. He examined the apartment complex in question. “And what kind of intel are we going to get watching a fifteen-story building?”
    Craig parked between two other cars facing the building. “Our sleeper cell link awaits.”
    “Needle in a haystack,” Patterson replied.
    Craig leaned forward and popped the trunk. He then walked out onto the sidewalk directly to the back.
    Surprised, Patterson turned to him. “What are you doing?”
    Craig dug into his pocket, put some quarters in the parking meter, and turned around. “Going to find our needle.” He went to the trunk and pulled the lid up. Inside was a steel carrying case. He grabbed the case and closed the trunk as a police siren wailed in the distance.
    Patterson opened his door and stepped outside. “They’re gonna throw you in a mental institution one day.”
    Craig walked along the cracked sidewalk under the buzzing street lights overhead, examining every parked vehicle he passed. Patterson caught up to him as he got closer to the building entrance.
    “Are we going in?” he asked.
    “I don't see any other option,” Craig answered.
    “What happened to waiting? Biding our time?”
    Craig looked at his watch. “There's still plenty of time for that.”
    Patterson stepped in front of Craig, blocking him. “I thought we had an agreement. You're supposed to tell me everything. No more surprises.”
    Craig held up the case. “We're conducting surveillance. A simple hidden camera outside the door to the Surkov residence.”
    Patterson was impressed. “Hell, why don't we just shoot a tracker chip into his brain.”
    “I would if we could,” Craig said, walking off. Patterson followed him into the dimly lit entrance to the towering apartment complex, keeping one hand on his pistol, raising its holster around his waist.
    Past the front entrance, unlocked but ironically protected by iron bars, they walked into the lobby, a wide-open room furnished with a few chairs knocked over, and a stained, green carpet with flickering long ceiling bulbs hanging overhead. The front desk was closed—indicated by a rolling aluminum door locked over the counter. The building, and the neighborhood for that matter, didn't look like the kind of place anyone would want to be caught alone in at night. There was an elevator to their right with an “Out of Order” sign on it. Across from the elevator was a door leading to the stairs.
    Patterson stopped and looked at Craig. “Third floor, right?”
    “Yep. Apartment 308.”
    Patterson pushed open the door and led the way as they ascended the dimly lit staircase. The walls were stained and covered with decades’ worth of overlapping grit. “I'd hate to see the ratings for this place on apartments.com,” he said as they climbed up the second flight of stairs.
    “I think our suspect chose this building for a reason,” Craig said.
    “Because he’s poor?”
    “Because the authorities are less likely to bother him here.”
    “Could be a little of both,” Patterson said.
    They pushed past the entrance to the third floor and slowly crept along the glossy concrete floor of the hall. Doors covered in thick, brown paint with tiny peep holes were aligned along each side, and at the end, the hall split off into two directions. Craig followed the number on each door. They were in the three twenties. Most of the overhead light bulbs were either burnt out or flickering. Patterson drew his 9mm from his holster.
    “What are you doing?” Craig asked.
    “This place looks like something out of a damn horror movie. I'm not taking any chances.”
    “Just keep it low key.”
    They followed the hall as it angled right, nearing the teens. Black bags of trash were piled up outside one apartment they passed. “Nice,” said Patterson, who