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

then nearly tripped over a beer bottle, sending it rolling down the hall. “Shit. Sorry,” he said.
    Craig flashed him a glance of disbelief and frustration and then shook his head. They came to 308 near the end of the hall, on their left.
    “Well. Should we knock?” Patterson said, jokingly.
    Craig knelt down, wasting no time, and opened his case. “Keep an eye out for me.”
    Inside the case, resting on foam padding, were a laptop, battery and several cords. He pulled out a small device, about the size of a domino, and turned on both the laptop and the camera device to make sure they were synchronized and running. Once everything was in order, he pointed the camera at Patterson, who stood guard.
    “Smile, you’re on America’s Most Wanted .”
    Patterson looked at the laptop and saw himself on screen.
    “I’m impressed. The FBI finally invested in webcams.”
    “They prefer to call them spy cameras.”
    “It does sound a lot cooler,” Patterson conceded.
    Craig examined the walls behind him and across from apartment 308. He looked at his watch again. It was close to four. Not a soul was around. There were no sounds of movement from inside any of the other apartments. The time was right.
    He planted the spy camera as high as he could above the frame of the door directly across from 308. All it took was one quick turn from his mini-electric screwdriver and the camera was in place. Its lithium battery could keep it powered for up to eight hours.
    Craig did another system check, shut the carrying case, and stood up. As tempting as it was to bust down the door of 308, they had other ideas. They exited the building as quickly as they had entered, went back to the car, and waited.
    ***
    Morning came, and Craig hadn't taken his eyes off the screen in his lap. On his third cup of coffee in three hours, Patterson did his best to remain attentive. The street had come alive with movement left and right. A garbage truck roared past. City buses made their stops. People shuffled onboard while others moved along the sidewalks, taking little notice of the two FBI agents sitting in a parked vehicle on the side of the road.
    “Two hours and not a single person has walked by that hall camera,” Craig said. Just as Patterson was about to respond, Craig perked up. “Hold on,” he said.
    A woman walked past the grainy frame with four young children following.
    “Never mind. False alarm,” Craig said.
    “Let's hope that Mr. Surkov isn’t a late sleeper,” Patterson said. He looked ahead and noticed a diner on the corner of the street. He could smell the bacon and eggs in the air. “How about I go over there and pick us up some grub?”
    “Sounds like a plan to me,” Craig said, staring at the screen.
    Patterson opened the door.
    “Wait!” Craig said intensely.
    On screen, a young man exited the apartment and walked out into the hall. He was wearing a hat, an orange summer jacket, and a black backpack over his shoulders. He didn't look a day over seventeen.
    “That's our sleeper cell mastermind?” Patterson asked in astonishment.
    “I don’t know,” Craig said. “Looks a little too young.”
    An older man now exited the room, taller and with facial hair. He had on jeans, a blue summer jacket, and a small backpack as well.
    “The tall one. That’s Rasheed,” Patterson said. He fished in his pocket and unraveled a folded printout of Rasheed’s driver’s license.
    “Yep. That’s him,” Patterson said.
    Both men had similar square-jawed facial features and thick, curly dark hair, though much of the younger one's hair was matted under his ball cap. Rasheed appeared to be examining his counterpart from head to toe. His mouth moved, but they couldn't hear anything he was saying.
    “You got audio on this thing?” Patterson asked.
    “Just video,” Craig said.
    The younger one unzipped his jacket, exposing a small bulletproof vest with a camera attached to it.
    “What the hell is that? A camera?” Patterson