Sudden Prey

up.”
    LaChaise slowed, stepped carefully up to a narrow slot in the curtains, and saw the three men getting out of the car. All he could see was hats and coats, but the plain gray car was the key. They were cops, all right. They started across the street, talking, and the thin one laughed.
    “They’re laughing. They may be coming, but they don’t know we’re here,” LaChaise said. He stepped quickly across the floor and killed the TV. “Down the back stairs. We can go out through the garage.”
    “No,” Martin said, shaking his head. “We can’t see out the back until we open the garage. If there’re cops out there, they’d have us cold.” He glanced at the window: “Man, I don’t think they know we’re here, but I don’t think we can risk running, either.”
    “So let’s set up and take them,” LaChaise said. “Back to the stairs. Then we got a chance to run, anyway.”
    They padded quietly down the long central hallway, pushing Sandy in front of them. Sandy went to the bottom of the stairs, in the garage, while LaChaise and Martin stopped just below the level of the top steps. Martin crouched, and LaChaise stood on the step below him, LaChaise with his ’dog and Martin with a .45 in each hand.
    “If they know we’re here, an entry team’ll try the garage door,” LaChaise whispered. The garage door opener was plugged into an overhead outlet. LaChaise pointed at it with the gun barrel and said to Sandy, “Pull the plug.”
    Sandy pulled the plug.
    “Let ’em get in a few feet. We want all of them in,” Martin said. “If they don’t know we’re here, we have to take them all . . .”
     
     
     
    DEL WENT AROUND back, to watch the garage door. Lucas led Stadic up the stairs.
    “Bunch of boxes at the top,” Lucas said. “Supposed to be some sort of a barrier to keep the door from being rushed.”
    Stadic said, “I’ve seen that in a couple places. Whatever works.”
    At the top, they moved the cardboard boxes out of the way. On the right side of the door, a piece of plywood was crudely nailed onto the wall.
    “Wonder what that is?” Lucas asked, looking at the board.
    “Probably an extra barrier to keep people from busting through the wall,” Stadic said. “The guy ain’t taking any chances.”
    Lucas banged on the door. “Harp, open up.”
    Nothing.
    “Awful quiet,” Stadic said.
    Lucas banged again. “Huh. Wonder if he booked.”
    “The way things are going . . .”
    Lucas banged a third time. They waited for a few more seconds, Lucas looked at the lock, said, “No way,” and they started back down the stairs.
     
     
     
    INSIDE, SANDY WAS crouched next to Harp’s car, her hands over her ears. After the third set of knocks, they heard what sounded like feet on the stairs. “I think they’re going,” Martin whispered.
    “I can’t fuckin’ believe this,” LaChaise whispered back. “I gotta go look.”
    Martin caught his arm. “Best not to. Sometimes, people feel it, when something moves.”
    LaChaise nodded, and they sat on the steps and listened.
     
     
     
    ON THE STREET, Lucas and Stadic walked around the corner and yelled down at Del. Del had been leaning against the brick wall by the garage door, and he pushed away from the wall and slouched back toward them. “Nothing?”
    Lucas shook his head and they crossed the street to the car.
    Stadic got in the back, and saw Sell-More Green walking down the street toward them. Sell-More worked for Harp, but he didn’t know Stadic. Stadic made a quick calculation, and as Lucas cranked the car, patted Lucas on the shoulder and said, “Whoa,” and pointed.
    Lucas and Del looked where Stadic was pointing. A thin black man in an old parka and black sneaks was scuffling along, oblivious of them. “That’s Sell-More Green,” Stadic said. “He’s one of Harp’s dealers. Or he used to be.”
    Lucas said, “So let’s ask him where Harp is.”
    They waited until Sell-More was passing the car, and then popped out, three doors opening at once, and Sell-More turned sideways and thought about running, but then just stopped, hands in his pockets. “What for?” he asked.
    “How you doing?” Stadic asked.
    “Hungry,” Sell-More said. “Haven’t ate in two days.”
    Lucas dug in a pocket, took out a small clip of bills, and pulled out a ten: “Where’s the boss?”
    Sell-More licked his bottom lip: “Who?”
    “Daymon, for Christ’s sakes,” Lucas said.
    “Oh, Daymon.” Sell-More looked up at the