While the Twins made their incredibly loud entrance into the Ocean Grocer, Fiona and I jogged to keep up with Father O’Brawley. The spry old priest seemed to call on some hidden reserve of energy as we hurried around to the back of the store.
“Are you absolutely sure about this Buggy?” I whispered into my cell phone.
“No. This was your idea remember?” The hacker replied.
“I mean about the fire system, smart ass.”
“Oh. Yeah. It should be there. All buildings in this city that sell flammable material have to be up to certain codes. You’ll find it, probably a wet pipe system.”
“And that means?”
“After you work your magic, just start a fire.”
“Gotcha.” I replied as we came to the rear entrance of the store, “How is the mix tape coming along?”
“First off, everything is digital nowadays so it’s an MP3.” Buggy chided me briskly, “Secondly, it’s great. I’ll have everything set up when you call back. You’ll be getting everything from Catholic hymns to kabbalah chants.”
“Perfect. Stand by then.” I instructed the hacker but to be honest, I had no need to.
Buggy hadn’t left his apartment in over three years, why would he leave now?
The back door of the Ocean Grocer was pretty much a metal slab with hinges and a keyhole. Considering the neighborhood this store was in, I was surprised they even had a rear entrance since that would be the first place a desperate thief would go.
“Two seconds.” I murmured to my companions as I slipped off my belt with one hand and reached for my new switchblade with the other.
Using the latch on my belt buckle as well as the tip of my knife (it made me wince to treat such a high quality blade like a common burglary tool) I managed to jiggle the keyhole enough to finally coax the damn thing open. Odds are that this door’s tumblers had been forced open so many times I could have picked the lock with a toothpick.
With a hard shove the door swung open and the three of us snuck into the back of the grocer. The storage area we found ourselves in was nothing more than a concrete floor, poorly assembled steel racks lined with shelves and dilapidated walls. The dim, flickering bulbs that bathed the entire area in a sickly light didn’t do much to help appearances either.
“Seems like the cult has had this place under their thumb for a while.” I observed, noticing that the expiration dates on the nearest goods stored on the shelves were months past due, “Watch yourself. Who knows what they’ve hidden here.”
“Let’s just find Faye and leave!” Fiona urged, barely controlled panic in her voice.
Who could blame her for being worried? We were neck-deep in illegal activity that might include homicide if the Twins didn’t show some self-restraint.
“Not yet,” I told her, placing a hand on her shoulder to try to calm her down, “We still have some preparation to do. We all know that we’re not dealing with normal freaks.”
“Normal freaks?” Father O’Brawley chuckled, pointing out my poor choice of words.
“Yeah yeah, you get what I mean.” I grinned at the old priest, “Now to prevent any possession or other mystic means the cult might use to stop us, here is what we need to do…”