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opened the door looking in on me? and then shut it. With about the same amount of force as
last time.
So it had been someone looking in on me. Too bad for them, they d woke me. Who knows
how long I d have slept if they d been quiet about it.
Their steps retreated down the hall and eventually car doors opened and shut. Three of them.
A low engine sound and then quiet once more.
Conga was truly still and deserted so early in the morning.
All except the noise next door. My God, was he sobbing over there?
Now or never. So the window was my best option for escape. But I didn t only need to
escape. I also had to break back in and free Stu from the inside hallway. Good Lord. I d never
picked a lock in my life.
Unless& what if I could go through AC ducts and get Stu, then bring him out the window
of this office? Would he kill me when he saw me again? Why was I even bothering to save his
lousy tail? Oh, right. Because if I didn t, I might become one of those prodigal space-time accidents
everyone speculates about. I d be trapped in non-existence, without Mitch. Reuniting with Mitch
was good incentive.
166 Trouble Under Venus
Okay. There was a vent right above Tino s desk. Of course, optimal air flow, right over him
while he was working. Probably a must during a Miami summer. I bet I d find another vent above
his father s desk, too.
All I had to do was heft this big old desk chair the wood was a good thing because it made
it sturdy but damn, it was heavy! on top of the desk. Those wheels were going to make for a risky
climb into the vents, but I d have to give it my all.
This was probably a balancing act best performed sans concussion, but as I wobbled atop
the desk and then teetered on the chair, I knew it was my one and only way out of this mess. The
only way I d ever see the safety of Mitchell Goodbody again.
The vent cover was a bit skewed, like it had been jammed into a spot it was too big for. It
didn t want to come out, and protested with a loud squeak.
The sobbing next door ceased.
Heh-hello? Stu called. Hello?
No need to answer the dipshit. Let him sit there and sweat it out until I came to his rescue.
The grate dangled by its hinges, beckoning me up, up into the duct. The opening loomed far
above my head. It would be a stretch, but I should be able to pull myself up. If only the ceiling
tiles would support my weight.
I grabbed hold and pulled. With twin puffs of powder, the tiles cracked and I landed in a
heap on the desk, the chair crashing off the side to the floor.
Well, hell. It wasn t at all like the movies. Come to think of it, there was no way I d have fit
through that duct, anyway, let alone Stu. And my wrist still hurt like a son of a
Hello? My nemesis pounded on the wall. Who s there? Get me outta here! Hey! Hey?
Bastard.
Mitch. I had to focus on Mitch. Because it d be really fine revenge to leave Stu the Shit to
be disposed of by Rico. Once he d gotten Tino on the inside , Rico would get rid of Stu in fine
fashion.
Mitch.
I climbed down from the desk and wiped the plaster powder from my hands. Along with
some blood. I must ve sliced my hand open on the damn grate.
Nice. Time to get out the window. The phone cord went for miles from under the desk, over
to a wall, which it followed into a corner. I yanked on it, but it wouldn t come out. I d have to
cut it. Maybe there was something in Tino s desk. It would have been stupid for him to leave me
something sharp, but in my experience he wasn t the brightest penny in the bank.
Scissors. Big, gleaming, barely ever used. Perfect.
Quick snip, and I had a handy rope. Bingo.
Autumn Piper 167
Feeling very much like Indiana Jones with his trusty whip, I imagined myself looking suave
as I looped the cord in a neat roll and slung it around my right shoulder. And stood rubbing my
chin and wondering how in the hell to get that behemoth of a desk under the window. I was really
weak, and& hmm. Better put the scissors in my back pocket. Might come in handy later on.
Or maybe I could push the couch over to the wall and pile the coffee table on top of it and
go out that way. I tried to budge it, to no avail. Good God, did the Cubans screw everything to
the floor or had I become the weakest chick ever? No way was I going to give up. If only I had
some of those neato furniture sliders like back at my apartment. I d managed to move all my own
furniture around with them. Sliders, wheels& my skates! Could I possibly get the skates under the
sofa and then roll it over to the window? I d need some leverage to lift the sofa in order to shove
them under. The coat tree! I could use the coat tree as a lever and something bugged me about
that coat tree. Who the hell needed one in Miami, anyhow? Coat tree. Man, my head hurt. Trees.
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