Mitch flattened himself against the wall as the dark-haired female walked out of the lab and turned right. She headed straight for J.J.
“The bins,” Mitch whispered into his microphone. He watched J.J. grab the nearest garbage bin, pull out its lining, and with the bin under his arm and a bag of rubbish in the other, he nodded to her as she passed. She returned his nod and walked on. As she rounded the corner, he bolted behind Mitch.
“Man, now I’m the janitor. Step up from my current job,” J.J. muttered.
“Yeah?” Mitch frowned. “Close call, let’s go.” He led the way to the bridge. He heard the security guard’s footsteps approaching from the same direction.
“Too late, this way.” He tried the access card on the door marked Lab G and it opened with a click. They slid in and the door locked behind them. They squatted beneath the bench in complete darkness.
“Smells like the dentist,” J.J. sniffed.
“Shh! Stay down, he might not come in.”
They waited, immobilized. Mitch wiped a thin layer of sweat from his forehead. The security officer’s footsteps drew closer. He stopped at their door, rattled it as if testing the lock and then continued on.
Mitch heard the security officer stop at the next lab and exchange greetings with the inhabitants – then the footsteps began again, moving away. Mitch rose, pushed the lab door open a few inches and glanced up and down the hallway.
“Clear! Come on.”
He sprinted for the wire bridge and swung through the rails to the walkway. He landed with a soft thud, turned and waited for J.J.
Remaining low, Mitch led the way along the length of hanging walkway to the emergency exit door less than ten feet away. They made it out. Mitch scoped his new surrounds; it was a dark, confined area that was fenced.
“Clear the fence and we’re safe.” He heard a growl. “But then again …”
“Guard dog!” J.J. exclaimed. “Where is it?”
Mitch moved his head to the right and saw a sleek Doberman, no more than fifteen yards away.
“Four o’clock. When did they get that?”
“Five yards to the fence. Can he outrun us?” J.J. asked.
“Maybe. OK J.J., here’s the plan. I’ll drop a doggy snack to …”
“You’re carrying a doggy snack?”
The Doberman growled.
“On the count of three, I’ll drop a snack and we’ll bolt for the fence.”
“Security’ll hear.”
“It’s that or hope Rover’s friendly.”
“Count it,” J.J. agreed. “One …”
The growling became louder.
“Two, three,” Mitch snapped, throwing beef pellets towards the dog without sticking around to see if the distraction worked.
They hit the fence, found footing in the wire uprights and hurled themselves over. Mitch heard a car start up. A black sports utility came into sight and he led the way towards it. He could hear the dog barking maniacally now.
“You know,” J.J. panted beside him, “you might get home in time to see Morse.”
“Nah. You know what it’s like, miss the first ten minutes and you never catch up.”
Mitch reached the car and leapt into the front seat.
“Go,” he yelled as he heard J.J. slam the back door. Agent Ellen Beetson took off and the sound of the dog’s barking died away.
“Nice driving Ellie,” Mitch collapsed back into the seat.
“Just once,“ J.J. complained, “I’d like to do a job without a dog, a security officer or some idiot in hot pursuit.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Ellen flashed a smile at him in the rear view mirror.
“Why couldn’t we get a warrant and confiscate the tapes?” J.J. puffed.
“We’ve acted on a tip off,” Mitch turned to look at him. “If we confiscate the tapes at this stage, we close down anything that might be in progress. Plus, we don’t know who we’re dealing with. The guy on the front desk could be involved, or the guy who tipped us off. You’re bleeding on the boss’s seat.”
“Clipped the fence.” J.J. pulled a handkerchief out of one of the vest pockets and wrapped it around his hand.
“Anyway, did you get it Mitch?” Ellen asked.
Mitch patted his vest. “Got it. Now, let’s see who’s on it.”