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He kept checking the compass on his phone, with the screen as dim as possible, and eventually emerged from the trees to the fence at the back of the Death Division’s drugs lab. The hole in the fence had been patched up — but it was shoddy work. No doubt they thought that with their leader removed, The Drifters were no longer a threat.
Well, they got that fucking wrong.
It only took a few snips of the wire cutters, through the soldering points, for Wolf to be back in the compound again. He tried not to think about what had happened here just a few short days ago, of his brothers who’d lost their lives a few feet from here.
The funeral plans were already made, of course. There would be a ride, a wake, the full pomp of a biker funeral.
Keep your head in the game, Wolf. This mission is about life, not about death.
He hugged the wall, crouching down low, trying to make himself invisible. So far, there was no sign of life. It wouldn’t surprise him if there weren’t many guards here at night. Maybe there would be none at all.
He probably should have checked with Marcus before coming o—
Fuck.
Wolf kept forgetting Marcus was gone. He kept thinking things like,Marcus is gonna be psyched when he finds out what I’ve done, andMarcus can help me plan this — I still trust him.
The empty feeling he got when he remembered that Marcus would never be able to help him again was cold and hard like nothing else.
When he reached the front door, he looked left and right, checking for guards. Still no-one here. Maybe the Death Division were all partying somewhere. Maybe they were already in Boston. Most likely, they would never normally be here at the lab. It was possible that they normallydiduse slave labor to work in the factory, and the MC members had just been here to spring the ambush.
He couldn’t even hear any footsteps.
If he’d shared his plan with Baron and Rainer, how different would things be? Would he already be dead?
Inside his pocket was the item he’d asked Baron for — a lockpick set. Baron was a blacksmith, and he’d produced all sorts of metal items for the club in the past. He mostly worked big, but he could do small, too. He’d cooked up a batch of lockpicks for Wolf in case the front door of the Den had been sealed, but they hadn’t had to use any.
Wolf quickly scanned the frame of the door for an alarm, but there didn’t seem to be one, so it was time to pick it.
He was no expert. He’d spent the last five hours before leaving his place today practicing, but he’d only managed to pick a couple locks. It was much more complicated than you saw on movies or in games.
He worked slowly, trying the various tools in the lock. The first thing was to add the tension tool, to apply a small amount of force to the lock. The idea was to raise six small pins inside the lock, while trying to open it at the same time. He felt sweat on his brow almost immediately. If he couldn’t do this, then it didn’t matter that no-one was here — he might never see Sophia again.
Next up, he chose a rake — a small tool with raised teeth. He moved the tool back and forth in the lock, jiggling it up and down, trying to keep his movements random and fast. This was definitely making noise — if there was anyone inside, they might well hear him. He waited to feel the click of the pins inside the lock, but it wasn’t happening.
He kept jiggling, the small piece of metal rattling in the lock. He was sweating more and more, his hands trembling now.
Just keep cool. It’ll happen. It’ll happen.
As he picked, he imagined Sophia watching him. Not only that, he imagined Marcus, laying a hand on his shoulder.
‘It’s alright, son. You got this.’
He could have sworn that heheardMarcus’ voice, soft and low and kind, just like it had always been. And somehow, the moment that his voice stopped, Wolf heard it — the click.
He was in.
When the door swung open, he was hit with a horrendous smell — the acrid, nostril-stripping stench of ammonia, and other harsh chemicals he didn’t recognize. It was so brutal that he gagged, and it took him a moment to recover. This was a horrendous environment to work in — the members of the Death Division must havehatedspending time here.
The lab was totally open apart from the door to an office space he’d noticed through the window the last time he’d been here. He glanced around the room, and — seeing it was empty — he walked quietly over to the office.
There had to be something in here — some small piece of information that would help him find Sophia. The office door was unlocked, and he swung it gently open, then, he froze.
A Deather was slouched in the chair, asleep.
Obviously, this was the security for the night. He was a middle-aged guy wearing a dirty white t-shirt and stained blue jeans. Wolf listened to him snore, watching his chest rise and fall. On the desk in front of the guy was what looked like a little stash of drugs, and sure enough, there was a square of aluminum foil, scorched, as well as a little glass pipe. The guy had to be out for the count — probably high on heroin right now.
That was lucky — it would make this a lot less dangerous.
