Free Down to the Wire by Shannon Greenland Page A

Punch me again, and I will punch back.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “It takes a real man to apologize.”
    Tears filled Wirenut’s eyes, and he lowered his head.
    I sniffed back my own tears, glad they were making up.
    TL smiled a little. “It’s okay to cry.”
    Wirenut laughed humorlessly. “Jeez, man, don’t you stop?” He scrubbed his eyes. “I’m fine.”
    “Is there anything you want to ask me?”
    Nodding, Wirenut lifted his head. “Why didn’t you tell me my uncle never made it to death row?”
    “Part of my job involves secrets and knowing when to tell those secrets. Oftentimes it hurts people I care for, and I am sorry for that. Believe me when I say I tell you things whenit’s the right time for you to know. I wanted you to be mature enough to handle it. After the conversation we just had, I have no doubt you are.”
    Wirenut pressed his fingers to his eyes. “I’m acting like such a girl.”
    “Hey,” I said jokingly, defending all girls.
    Chuckling, TL sat down beside Wirenut. He looped his arms around both of our necks and pulled us in for a quick hug. “The good news is that we know your uncle’s identity now. That man has been at large for twelve years. He’s finally going to pay for what he did to your family.”

    One hour later, I lay belly down on the museum’s brown-tile roof. Getting up here had been much easier than I thought. Stairs led up from the back.
    I watched as Wirenut chiseled a notch six inches northeast of the roof’s one and only window.
    He looked over at me and grinned.
    Bingo.
    Double-coated EDF wire.
    With a lighter, he melted two drops of copper onto the wire. The combination of the two short-circuited, and the window popped open.
    He shook his head. “Accu Security. Come on, people, update your technology. This hit the market three years ago.”
    He packed up his tools while I secured the small foldablesatellite dish to the roof. We pulled our hoods down over our faces. He tossed a rope through the roof window, and we dropped eight feet to the floor of a cleaning closet.
    “Okay, game’s on. Don’t get too confident. Never know what might happen.”
    Pressing the talk button on my vest, I activated my tooth mike. “We’re in.” I checked my watch. “Twenty-three oh-three hours.”
    “Copy that,” TL answered into my ear transceiver, from his lookout spot outside the museum.
    Quickly, I recalled the blueprints I’d memorized. The upstairs of the 3,000-square-foot building served as offices and storage, and downstairs was the museum. We needed to go down one flight and hang a right.
    On silent, slippered feet, we shuffled out of the closet and down the marble hall to the stairs. In the dimly lit hallway, I studied the descending treads. Probably rigged with weight sensors. Wirenut had said buildings that still used the Accu system on the roof window would have weight sensors on the stairs. They came in the same security package.
    Which meant the wooden banister was our only way down.
    Wirenut hopped up, struck a surfer pose, and slid all the way down. He sailed off the end and quietly landed on his feet.
    He turned and bowed, all full of himself, then motioned me on. If he thought I was surfing the banister, he was sadly mistaken. Need I remind him I’m a total klutz?
    I climbed on, straddling the banister very grannylike, and slid down to where he stood.
    We crossed the marble foyer and came to a stop in the pottery room’s doorway. The ceramic egg that held the first encrypted message sat on a stand in the room’s center. A glass box encased it.
    That’s worth millions? You’ve got to he kidding me.
    Taking a moment, I ran my gaze around the room, passing over wall-mounted, ceramic figurines. It didn’t seem like there was anything unusual, except the egg wasn’t in a vault, which was supposed to be part of the Rayver Security System.
    But I wasn’t the expert here. Wirenut was.
    This was as far as I went. It’s up to him now. I reached inside my vest