Deal Gone Bad - A Thriller (Frank Morrison Thriller Series Book 1) Read Free Page B

A cheap but sturdy material that was more
than a match for its industrial cousin. In between the first two studs,
Morrison felt the plastic sleeve of an electrical cable. He let his fingers
course along its length up to a plastic box with a protruding switch. He flipped
it up. The lights came on.
    The whole shed was made
like this. Raw studs and joists covered with plywood on the outside. Apart from
the door, there was no other opening. It contained no object either. No shovel,
no gardening tool. None of the usual stuff that would clutter a place like
this. Nothing at all that he could use to pry his way out of here.
    But at least, now, he was alone.
    He had some time to
himself.
    Morrison took the key from
his pocket and held it between his thumb and middle finger. He had no idea how
long he would be held in here. No idea who he would be meeting. But one thing
was for sure. He needed to conceal this key as best he could. He couldn’t keep
it in his pocket. Way too obvious.
    So he put the key down on
the floor. Untied his shoe. Removed it. Then he squeezed his fingers in the
opening and pulled delicately on the glued-on insole, where the toes were. The thin
leather strip gave way with a weak tearing sound. Then he grabbed the key,
slipped its end through the opening he had just made under the insole and
slowly pushed it in, feeling the tip slice through the hardened glue. He looked
at the shoe. The upper concealed the location of the key. Just by looking at
the shoe, you had no way of knowing it was in there. Not perfect. Far from it. A
thorough search by competent hands would soon reveal it, but not a casual one.
So this was good enough given the circumstances.
    Morrison put his shoe back
on and stood up.
    He was thirsty. He went to
the door and banged on it.
    “Anybody there?” he said.
“Can I get something to drink?”
    There was no response. The
two men were probably inside the house. Or they were ignoring him. Morrison sat
down against the far wall, setting his sight on the door. Now he was also
hungry. He called out again at the two guys, still without any feedback. He
shook his head. Bummer. At least in prison he had three square meals a day, and
he could snack and drink whenever he wanted.
    Earlier, he had promised
himself he’d stop at Elena’s Bakery and pick up cinnamon buns and decent coffee
when he got to town. If it weren’t for these guys, he would probably be having
them right now. He shrugged and tried to chase that thought away. Concentrated
instead on trying to figure out who was behind all this.
    Sadly, there was no
shortage of suspects. Considering how he had made his living since he was a
teenager, he was rather more exposed to this type of event than the average Joe.
It could be the work of rivals determined to block the re-entry of a fierce competitor
in a lucrative market. Now would be the time to strike, when he was barely out
of prison and still unsettled. He could see some logic in it. It could also come
from disgruntled partners, associates he had dealt with in the past and who bore
him grudges, perceived or justified. Sometimes the line was blurred between those
two. People would more easily blame somebody else for their failure than take a
long hard look at themselves in the mirror. Especially in his line of business.
Lastly, it could come from would-be partners, suitors he had turned down and
who now wanted to get back at him.
    He spent the next few
hours alternately sitting and standing, walking a few steps to and from the
door to shake his legs, all the while going through all the possibilities. At
least the ones he was aware of. A carousel of faces filed one after another in
his mind. Then he heard the sound of the Navigator’s door slam shut, followed
by the engine starting. He interrupted himself to go back to banging on the
door.
    He called out at his captors
but to no avail. Nobody either heard him or cared to respond.
    Out of sheer frustration,
he yielded to an impatient gesture