larger than a soda straw.
“What’s that?” Dino said.
“It’s a blowpipe. Designed it myself. Accurate up to twenty-five feet. I need to knock out the guards without them knowing I was here.” Teddy snapped open a little case and took out two darts. He took out a third. “Margin of error,” he told Dino.
Teddy snuck up on the house, keeping to the shadows, his footfalls nearly silent on the grass. The guard on the front porch was Red. He wasn’t sleeping, but he might as well have been.
Teddy crept around to the side of the house. Brown was stationed at the kitchen door. He wasn’t paying attention, either, and posed an easier target. Teddy crept up on him, raised the blowpipe, and fired. The dart hit the goon in the side of the neck. He reacted as if he’d been bitten by a mosquito, and slapped at it. He missed. His head lolled to the side, and he was out.
Teddy retrieved the dart and peered around the corner of the house at the goon on the front porch. He hadn’t moved, but he was thinking deep thoughts, probably about women or gambling.
Red was right on the edge of the blowpipe’s range. Teddy figured he could make it, but preferred to get closer.
A twig snapped underfoot.
The goon raised his head and looked around.
The dart hit him in the cheek. Not where Teddy was aiming, but the guy had moved.
The mission was blown if the guy saw him. The mission was blown if he even noticed the dart.
He didn’t. He started to get up and sank back down, slid sideways, and pitched off the chair with a crash.
Teddy rushed to the porch, grabbed him by his shoulders, and heaved him back up into the chair—it had to look like he’d fallen asleep, not as if he’d been drugged. Teddy’s bad leg hurt, but he barely noticed. He propped up the goon, and faded back into the shadows, waiting to see if a light went on in the house.
None did. Teddy gave it a couple of minutes, and went back up on the porch.
The front door was locked. It took Teddy twenty seconds to pick it. Was he rusty, out of shape, or just old? Whatever the case, a refresher course in lock picking was in his future.
The door creaked as he slipped inside and pulled it closed behind him. He couldn’t see a thing. He had a penlight, but hated to use it. He stood for a minute and let his eyes adjust to the dark. Shapes began to take form. To some extent he was extrapolating from where he stood in the doorway. There was a room directly in front of him and doors off in either direction. He also had a clue from the guards. He knew approximately where the kitchen was.
Teddy aimed the penlight at the floor in front of him, cupping his hand to narrow the beam. He made his way through the door to the right and down the hallway to the kitchen.
He was greeted by the sound of a dog stirring in his crate. He prayed it wouldn’t bark. Rocky didn’t. Rocky was no watchdog. Wagging and greeting was more in his line.
Teddy reached the kitchen door and peered in. Rocky was in a crate in the corner. Teddy tiptoed to the crate, treats in hand. Rocky slurped them gratefully through the bars.
Teddy didn’t see a leash anywhere, but he’d brought one of his own. He slipped it on Rocky’s collar through the bars of the crate. Having seen Rocky in action, Teddy wasn’t sure he could get a leash on him if he let him out first.
Teddy took a breath, and opened the crate. Rocky came out in a whoosh. Teddy held him fast and fed him treats from his pocket. It took Rocky a minute to realize he was doing just fine for himself standing still. Of course, it wouldn’t take him long to remember he had to pee.
Teddy worked his way across the kitchen and out the door, leash and penlight in one hand, treats in the other. He reached the front door, eased it open, and followed the dog out. He closed the door, but left it ajar.
Rocky made a break for the lawn, pulling Teddy off the porch. He followed the dog to the side of the lawn, where Rocky peed on a bush.
Dino loomed up out of the dark. “Need a hand?” he whispered.
“Give me the spare collar.”
Dino held Rocky while