MITCHELL PARKER CRIME THRILLERS BOOK 1
SPECIAL AGENT MITCHELL PARKER HAD A CLEAR PLAN – GET THE SECURITY
tapes, get out of there, and get home in time for Inspector Morse on television at
eight. Crouching on a hanging bridge spanning the middle floor of the
university’s science block, Mitch silently cursed the architects who thought
suspended walkways and wire railings would be ‘arty’ in the new science wing.
It left nothing to hide behind and exposed him and his partner, Jack Jameson, to
the lab entrances and thoroughfares.
Mitch flattened himself against the railing in the shadows on the bridge. At
six-foot-two, with dark hair and an athletic build, he was a man who didn’t
spend much time in the shadows. His sharp blue eyes swept the area, landing on
J.J.
“J.J., nothing here. Try the next level up,” he whispered into his throat
microphone.
The stocky J.J., five-years older and a stone heavier, nodded and crawled out
of sight.
Mitch looked between the wire railings to the hallway entrance below. He
saw one security guard at the front desk. His eyes traveled above the guard,
finding the security camera that broadcast images to the desk monitor while
recording them somewhere in the building.
I want those recordings!
Mitch glanced at his watch. It was nearing seven o’clock; the night-shift
security officer was due.
“Mitch?” J.J.’s voice broke his concentration.
“Yeah?” Mitch whispered into the headset.
“Are you sure this is going to work? There’ll be two guards to deal with
during the changeover.”
“I know,” he whispered back, “but they’ll be talking, not watching the
monitor. It’s our best shot. Just find the room where the tapes are – I need them
and we’re running out of time!”
Mitch took in the area. The walkways reminded him of the modern shopping
centers designed to make you walk one hundred and eighty degrees to get to
each level.
A pain in the ass, he thought. OK, walk around or straight up?
Mitch jumped up, missed and tried again. Grabbing onto the overhead
landing he heaved himself up, squatted, and did a quick reconnaissance. He saw
lights on in one of the rooms.
“J.J., the large room with the lights on, that’s got to be the main lab – and bet
the small room next to it is our tape room,” he whispered into the mic.
J.J. came into sight from the opposite direction. He glanced through the glass
strip on the door of the small room.
“Yeah, we’ve found it,” J.J. confirmed. “You’ll have to pass the main lab or
drop back down below again and work in reverse.”
“Too hard; main lab it is. Head count?” Mitch watched J.J. move closer to
the main lab, glance in and move back.
“Three. Two males at the back, one female near the door.”
Mitch checked the coast was clear and increased his pace, sidling alongside
the lab wall. He looked through the glass strip and saw a diminutive female with
long dark hair working inside. No one else was in view. He ducked underneath
the glass and moved to the taping room. With a silent prayer, he swiped a pre-
programmed access card in the slot on the door. The access light flicked to green
and he exchanged a quick look of relief with J.J.
Mitch pushed open the door and entered the pitch-black room. He reached
into his vest for a small penlight, flicked it on, surveyed the room and headedstraight for a glass cabinet that housed numerous tapes, all dated. It opened first
try. He found the previous week’s tape and set it aside. He stopped, listened and
followed the whirring noise to locate the tape machine.
“Shit!”
“What’s wrong?” J.J.’s voice came through his earpiece.
“Tape recorder’s a hundred years old! Our blanks won’t fit.”
He glanced around and spotted some blank tapes still in their plastic
wrappings on the counter.
“Make my day.”
“Come again?”
“Nothing, problem solved. Let’s cut the chatter.”
Mitch fished around in his black vest for a glove and put it on, being careful
not to leave fingerprints. He grabbed a tape and unwrapped it, trying to minimize
the noise from the plastic wrapping.
“What the hell’s that?” J.J. cut in.
“Plastic wrapper.”
“Nightshift’s arrived,” J.J. said. “I can hear them talking. Hurry up, you’ve
got about five minutes.”
“Don’t sweat, I’m almost done.”
Mitch moved back to the tape machine.
“Just had a thought …”
“What?” Mitch asked frustrated.
“Old technology … what if their monitors go to black instead of relaying the
hallway feed live?”
“Security’ll head straight to the tape room.”
“Great.”
Mitch positioned himself next to the recorder.
“Hurry up! What’s taking so long?”
“Shut up for chrissake, I’m working here.” Mitch took a deep breath. “OK,
here goes. Stopped recording … eject … tape out … new one in … recording …
done!”
They waited a beat.“All clear. Didn’t even notice,” J.J. proclaimed.
“Excellent,” Mitch stuffed the tape and plastic in his vest, picked up the tape
he had set aside and pried open the door. He spotted J.J. who gave him the ‘all
clear’ thumbs up.
Mitch closed the tape room door behind him.
Less than three feet away, the main lab door began to open.2
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.”3
CHARLOTTE CURTIS FROWNED AT THE BLACK TOAST.
“Mitchell!” she muttered. “Why do you always have to fiddle with the
settings?” she slapped jam over the burned toast and threw the knife in the sink.
The chime from the wall clock announced six o’clock.
An hour to read the file, get dressed and get to the office, she thought. Never
going to happen.
She stopped to listen, heard the tap running and left Mitch’s coffee cup
unfilled. With her plate of toast, coffee and the file, she headed for the warmth of
the lounge room, falling into the cushioned sofa. Charlotte opened the file from
the Child and Family Services Agency on her new client, Bradley James Parnell,
and sighed.
Counseling minors, not a great start to the day, she thought.
The bathroom door opened and she looked up as her roommate emerged in a
smart black suit, crisp white shirt and in the process of doing up a blue patterned
tie. “What?” she asked noticing his grin. “Have I got bed hair?”
“No, no, thy name is beauty,” Mitch placed his hand over his heart.
Charlotte pulled her blue dressing gown around her and gave him a wry look.
“The kettle’s boiled.” She returned to her file.
