Free One Minute to Midnight (Black Ops: Automatik) by Nico Rosso Page A

One for you, one for Kit. I’d love to talk to him when he’s available. And you...” Her keys jingled loudly, indicating she wasn’t planning on staying too long. “Think about what we talked about. Keep an eye out for any equipment or carts you could liquidate. Good money in that.”
    He glanced at his custom truck. Len already made good money. “Yeah, I’ll think about it.” He still stood to block her view of the warehouses. “And we’ll call if anything comes up.”
    “Excellent.” She opened the car door and slid in. “Thanks, Len.” She tossed her purse and iron fragment on the passenger seat and started the car. Len closed her door and stood by until she put it in gear and drove off.
    She’d played it right and should’ve only left him with a business card in his hand, the annoyance of a city girl talking at him and the fading scent of roses. He wouldn’t know about her ability to field strip and reassemble his automatic blindfolded. Or how her readiness alert for the operation ticked up two levels. The guns were there, making her awareness buzz. She and Ben were one step closer. One step into a minefield.

Chapter Six
    Money flowed uphill in Morris Flats. After driving around the public park a couple of times to see the mud-tracked baseball diamond and basketball hoops with no nets or chains at all, Ben parked at the high school. While still in his car, he discreetly removed his ankle holster. After squaring it away under the floor mat, he walked onto the campus in search of the gym. He passed cars of various ages. Hand-me-downs and brand-new rides. If the kids of the gunrunners went here, there must not be a private school in town. The cars in the faculty section weren’t as nice as many of the student cars.
    Like the rest of the town, most of the school buildings seemed to be from the postwar boom. But the tile had cracked, and water stains spread like rusty clouds on the drop ceilings. Slot windows in the classroom doors revealed crowded rooms and the usual assortment of kids of different races being talked at by a teacher. They still used chalkboards—no whiteboards or computer projectors at Lincoln High, home of the Plainsmen.
    At least there was a security officer looking after the place. The Latino man in his midthirties approached Ben with his thumb hitched in his belt, close to the can of pepper spray. He also wore a collapsible baton, with the end brassed from his palm resting on it, but the holster was tight, so he didn’t use it much, if ever.
    “Can I help you, sir?” The guard’s eyes were wary, hard. He took his job seriously. And he spent time in the weight room, maybe punching on a heavy bag.
    “Ben Louis.” He handed him a card. “Circulatron Sports Equipment. I’d love a couple of minutes to talk to some of your coaches.”
    The guard didn’t look at the card. His eyes scanned Ben, taking in the scrapes on his knuckles and jaw.
    Ben rubbed at the bruise on his face. “Yeah, I didn’t order dessert, but a few truckers at the diner brought me a slice anyway.”
    “Sonny’s Diner?” A hint of compassion crept into the guard’s voice.
    “That’s the one.”
    “Stay away from that place.” The guard motioned Ben to follow him. “Go to the Imperial instead.”
    “I wish you’d told me that an hour and a half ago.” Though he’d been able to walk away from the fight, and it helped define which side of the line those town players were on.
    The two of them walked to the administration offices, where Ben laid out his pitch about getting quality sports advancements into the hands of real athletes. He’d gone over it so many times it was a struggle not to rush. Especially when a mission clock ticked hard in his head. Mary was at the train yard. He hadn’t heard back from her yet. A visitor badge was created by a school administrator, and the guard escorted him back into the main hallway.
    Classroom noise created a constant chorus as they walked to the far end of the