Stone Barrington 06-11

They were halfway up, when Stone’s feet slipped out from under him, and they both fell down, hitting the concrete floor hard.
    “Shit, that hurt!” Stone said.
    “Tell me about it. It’s those faggoty Italian loafers you’re always wearing,” Dino said. “The soles are too slippery.”
    “I suppose you’re wearing those black cop shoes with the thick, rubber soles?”
    “Sure, I am, and I didn’t slip, did I?”
    “Let’s try it again.”
    “And what’s changed that’s going to make it work this time?”

    “We have to try. Billy Bob could come back at any moment.”
    “All right, let’s go.”
    They started pushing up again, and this time, after a good minute of trying, they were on their feet.
    “Man, that was hard,” Dino said, puffing.
    “You’re in lousy shape, that’s why,” Stone said.
    “Yeah, sure, like you actually use that exercise stuff in your basement?”
    “Of course, I use it.”
    “Don’t bullshit me, Stone. You’re breathing just as hard as I am.”
    “All right, all right. Now what are we going to hang me from?”
    They started to move in a circle, looking at the walls of the garage.
    “There are tools in here,” Dino said. “Shovels and stuff.”
    “Yeah, it looks like some sort of maintenance facility.”
    “You see anything useful?”
    “Yes!” Stone almost yelled. “There’s a hose coiled up and hung on a hook!” He moved toward a wall, and Dino followed him, walking backward.”
    Dino looked over his shoulder. “First, we have to get the hose off the hook, so we can use it.
    The hook was chest high. Stone tried nudging the coil of hose with his knee, but couldn’t reach it. Finally, he bent over and pushed upward on the hose with his head. Most of it fell to the floor, leaving several coils on the hook. “I think that’ll do it,” Stone said. “The hook’s available; I’ve just got to get a leg up that high.”
    “Try walking up the wall,” Dino said. “I’ll back up closer.” He did so.
    “Push hard against me,” Stone said. He put a foot against the wall, then another. “It’s working,” Stone said. “About two feet higher. Push harder!”
    Dino pushed, and Stone continued walking up the wall.
    “We’ve got to move about a foot to the left,” Stone said.
    Dino worked in that direction, taking tiny steps.

    “I think I can…” Stone got a leg over the hook and put his weight on it. “Okay, I’ve got a leg hooked. You’ve got to get lower, and as slowly as possible.”
    Dino eased himself down to a squatting position. “I don’t know how long I can do this,” he said.
    Stone had all his weight on the one leg over the hook, now. He began to shake his hips back and forth.
    “What are you doing?” Dino demanded.
    “I’m trying to shake out the wallet,” Stone said. “It won’t come out.”
    Dino began to jump up and down an inch or two from his squatting position.
    “It fell out!” Stone yelled. “Now you have to stand up again, so I can get my leg off the hook.
    Making loud groaning noises, Dino slowly pushed himself upright.
    Using his other foot for purchase, Stone managed to get his leg off the hook, and the two of them fell to the floor in a heap. They lay there for a moment, panting.
    “Where’s your wallet?” Dino asked finally.
    “It’s around here somewhere. Feel for it with your feet.”
    They scurried around in the dimly lit garage, feeling for the wallet.
    “I think I’ve got it,” Dino said. “It’s tucked up under my ass. Let me see if I can reach it. Move backwards a little.”
    Stone moved backward.
    “Got it,” Dino said. “I pushed it between us. Feel for it.”
    “I have it,” Stone said.
    “Well, get the fucking key out!”
    Stone got the wallet open and shook it. A tiny metallic sound came back. “It’s on the floor.” He felt for it. “Got it!”
    “Unlock any bracelet,” Dino said. “Doesn’t matter which one.”
    Stone got hold of Dino’s wrist, found the bracelet and the keyhole and turned the key.

    “Yes!” Dino shouted, holding up his free hand. He turned to Stone. “Give me the key.”
    Stone put it in Dino’s hand, and a moment later, he had a free hand, and a moment after that, they were both free of the cuffs.
    Stone unzipped his trousers and fished out the Keltec and its silencer. He screwed the tube onto the barrel, then popped the magazine and counted. “I’ve only got five rounds,” he said. “The guy who searched me took the other two