The Last Second Read Free Page A

give you front-­row seats. In the meantime, you leave the explosives to the guys who know what they’re doing and we’ll leave the article writing to you.”
    “W ell?” Trish asked Griffin, once they were back at the car where she was waiting.
    He removed his glasses and tucked them in his pocket. “Guess we’re going to save a dog.”
    Sydney reached out, hugged him, and he forced himself to let go when she did. “Thank you,” she said softly, and he hoped she’d remember that there was a good side to him, when they finally did get that chance to sit down and discuss his past. “What made you decide?”
    “He’s lying through his teeth. At least about the dynamite.”
    “I’m not the expert you are,” Sydney said. “But I was under the impression that nitroglycerin is very unstable once it degrades.”
    “It is. And like he said, I’d expect to find long-­forgotten dynamite in an old mining town like this. But what I saw in that photo happened to be military-­grade explosives, which is made without nitroglycerin. The military designed it specifically for its stability. So either there’s another dirty cop who fed Chief Parks a line of bull about what sort of explosives are down in that basement, and he’s clueless, or he knows exactly what it is, and he believes we’re clueless.” He looked over at Sydney as she slid into the passenger seat. “Guess which scenario I’m banking on.”
    Sydney smiled. “Score one for the mild-­mannered reporter.”
    Griffin started the car, then pulled away from the curb.
    “So,” Trish asked. “Where do we go from here?”
    “The old McMahon place,” Griffin said. “Seems to me if the chief’s so hell-­bent on keeping us out, that’s the first place we need to check.”
    A ssuming no one was hurt in the operation, the worst thing that could happen if he and Sydney got caught was that they’d be punished for using government resources in a nonsanctioned, nonvital operation. They could be suspended without pay for such a move.
    Then again, they could both be fired.
    Least of his worries right now.
    Ten minutes later outside the fence line, as Griffin eyed the dog through his binoculars, he told himself that he didn’t care if what he was doing went against the rules. In his mind, this was one case where it was better to ask for forgiveness than ask for permission. And if they took down a corrupt local government while they were doing it, all the better. “Exactly how did you plan on getting in there past the patrol officers guarding the place?” he asked Trish.
    “There’s a gate on the perimeter fencing around the back. It’s locked. But there’s also a hole near the gate where the dog got through. I think it’s big enough for us.”
    “What sort of patrols do we have?” Griffin asked.
    “A uniformed officer drives the outer circumference, checking on the property about every thirty minutes, making sure the gates are locked. Ever since they discovered the explosives, they haven’t varied their schedule.”
    “Beyond the chief, you think the officers are in on this?” he asked her.
    “I don’t know. I never got the chance to ask my brother.”
    “And the agents who they turned the guns over to? Could they be in bed with the corrupt police?”
    “I don’t think so. The biggest problem with them is they’re too by the book. At least according to my brother.”
    Of course, Griffin thought, there was one thing neither he nor Sydney considered when they set out on this mission. “What happens if we find your brother’s body? Any chance the police chief’s going to let us waltz out of here with it?”
    Sydney gave him a sardonic look, but any quip she might have uttered died at the sight of a dust cloud in the distance.
    Apparently the road coming from the south wasn’t paved. “That’s probably the patrol.” He checked his watch. “Now we know their schedule. Nice of them to make it easy for us.”
    A minute later, the vehicle drove