Free One Last Bullet: An Action Thriller (Adrian Hell Series Book 3) by James P. Sumner

we get there before you go in, see what I can do with my toys to help you out.”
    “Like what?”
    “Maybe get the blueprints of the building, disable the security feed, use satellite imagery to see who’s inside...”
    “Christ, you can do all that?”
    Josh simply smiles and focuses on the road.
    “Jesus...” I say quietly, shaking my head and laughing. “I’m glad you’re on my side…”
     
    11:22
    The drive was reasonably short and uneventful, and twenty minutes later, we pulled up opposite the club. I get up and move into the back of the Winnebago, retrieving my guns from my travel bag and attaching the holster to the base of my back. I pull my jacket on and adjust it so it covers them. Josh appears next to me, sitting down at the workbench and turning on his laptop.
    “Right, gimme a minute,” he says as his fingers move over the keys like a pianist in the middle of a concerto. I watch the screen as he works his magic, different windows opening and closing in a blur. “Okay, here are the schematics for the building,” he says, pointing to the screen. “At the back of the main club area, you have two doors—one straight ahead and one off to the right. The one that will be facing you leads to a corridor at the back of the building. Turn left to the office and right to the changing rooms.”
    “Okay, so I’ll head for the office and see who’s there. You got a head count yet?”
    “One second, and... yes! Thermal satellite imagery of the area is up and running. You know, I even impress myself sometimes!”
    I pat him on the shoulder. “Well, at least you impress someone ,” I say, laughing.
    “Piss off... Right, looking at this, the place actually looks open for business...”
    “Really? It’s not even noon! Who goes to a strip club before lunch?”
    “I imagine it’s not a very diverse group of people,” he offers, smiling. “This does pose a small problem though.”
    “Yeah...witnesses. Not counting the customers, how many targets am I looking at?”
    He taps away at the laptop and enhances one section of the feed.
    “Well, ignoring everyone in the main area, you’ve got two in the office, four in the changing rooms and one behind the bar. And what I can’t see are any security cameras, so I can’t jam the signal I’m afraid.”
    “It doesn’t matter. What’s out the back?”
    “As you approach the office, there’s a fire exit on the right hand wall. That leads to a sheltered area, then the parking lot.”
    “Okay, let’s go.”
    I pick up Josh’s baseball cap from the counter and put it on, pulling it low over my forehead. Without another word, I open the back door and jump down to the sidewalk. The cool wind hits me, and the gray skies still threaten a downpour. I turn the collar of my jacket up, dig my hands in my pockets, and set off across the street.
    I casually walk through the doors, entering a short corridor with a ticket booth on the left, for people to pay their entrance fee at night. Posters advertising special events in the club cover the walls. I carry on and, at the end, I descend down a small staircase. At the bottom is an un-manned hole-in-the-wall counter on the right for your coats. I walk past it to another set of doors and go through to the main club and bar area. I stand just inside the doors, looking out at the club. There’s a faint smell of stale sweat—presumably the remnants of the previous nights’ activities. There are a couple of steps down, then the club floor spreads out in front of me and away to both sides.
    I haven’t had much experience of strip clubs, but inside it looks exactly like I imagined it would. It’s dark, with a pale red glow coming from lights fitted around the walls, enhanced in places by a bright spotlight in the ceiling. I rub my eyes a little to focus, as it’s so gloomy compared to the light outside—it’s taking a moment for them to adjust. To the left is a semi-circular bar, with one very tired looking waiter