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Abruptly, the video feed from Gecko began to stutter. On its heels, the audio started to break up. Like an attack dog, Ryan leaped into action, promptly checking the wireless connection.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “The connection speed has dropped by seventy percent.”
“What does that mean?” Casey asked.
“It means that, at that rate, audio and video streaming is impossible.” He was already moving toward the door, crouched down so he didn’t whack his head. “I’ve got to find out what the problem is or we’re screwed.”
He pushed open the van doors and climbed out, peering in the direction of the Sunny Gardens grounds.
“Shit,” he exclaimed, seeing that the huge crane had moved directly between his van and Gecko, its large steel boom interfering with his wireless signal.
Without a clear line of sight, there was no way to accomplish their goal. The crane was showing no signs of moving and they couldn’t risk revealing their presence in any way.
He’d have to improvise.
“Bad news,” he told Casey and Marc as he boosted himself back into the van. He filled them in on the problem.
“What’s the solution?” Marc asked. “We’ve come way too far to give up. And the FBI task force is climbing up our asses.”
“There’s nothing I can do about the timing. But I can do something about the problem. I have to turn off the streaming and have Gecko internally record the audio and video, which we can play back at a later time.” As Ryan explained, he sent the instructions to Gecko. Gecko acknowledged, and the streaming video went blank, the audio silent.
“Later when?” Marc demanded.
“When you come back here tonight and retrieve my
little critter. At that point, we can watch and listen to the events of the afternoon. And, with any luck, we’ll have what we need.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Getting onto the grounds of Sunny Gardens this time was going to be a little trickier.
Marc cruised slowly by the main entrance, scanning the front lawn and pinpointing the garden where Ryan’s little critter was stashed.
There was no way he could use the same section of fence as last time to gain entry. It was too far down. Last night, he’d been headed around back, to a deserted section of grounds that was shielded by the construction site. Tonight, he was aiming for dead center, the most open area of the front grounds. If he went back to the remote section of fence he’d scaled last time, it would require his making his way across the entire front lawn. The floodlights would pick him up in any one of a dozen spots.
Not feasible.
So that left the area near the front gates.
Marc’s gaze shifted, focusing on the small security booth at the entranceway. There was one guard inside. Fortunately, there was also one TV. And the guard was lounging in a chair, drinking a can of soda and staring at the screen. Judging from his reactions—an occasional display of annoyance and a few fist-clenching punches of joy in the air—Marc determined he was watching a game. The Yanks were playing the White Sox tonight. The first pitch had been thrown out by the Yankees at eight o’clock. It was nine-fifteen now.
Just to be sure, Marc pulled over in a section of trees where he could see the guard but the guard couldn’t see him. Marc turned on the radio, locating the station that broadcasted Yankee baseball. He listened—and watched the guard.
Sure enough, the Yanks pulled off an expert double play that finished off the bottom of the third inning. Simultaneously, the security guard leaned forward in his chair, his smile broad, his lips forming the emphatic word yes!
Clearly, it was the same game.
Marc drove a short distance and made a U-turn, pulling off the road into a cluster of bushes on the same side of the street as the facility. Approximately two hundred yards before the main gate, the space was facing the direction Marc needed to go to head for home.
Last night, he’d planned on spending a block of time inside the building. Consequently, leaving his vehicle across the road and far away where it wouldn’t be spotted was imperative. Tonight was a grab and go. He needed his car as close to him as possible without being visible. His only task was to find and snatch Gecko, and get the hell out of there.
Bearing that in mind, he grabbed the small backpack he’d brought along, and quietly left his car. He crept down the grassy side of the road, pausing just to the right of the security booth, where the guard’s back was to him.
He waited for the next visibly exciting play of the game. The guard was at the edge of his seat, gripping his soda can tightly and staring at the screen.
Marc seized the opportunity.
He scaled the fence in a few smooth moves and dropped onto the grass inside. He squatted low, watching and waiting.
