Today’s
excerpt is from Toboggan, Book #4 of the nine-book Janitors Series. After being hit at a distance with a shotgun
blast, Nick leads Phyllis thought the otherwise empty hunting lodge and out the
back door to a barn. There he rigs a
trap for the two bad guys. Enjoy and
have a wonderful day.
m.j.
When
they reached the barn and entered it, Nick shook his head. “I don’t know who in the hell those two are,
but they sure aren’t friendly.”
When
Nick had been busy in the kitchen, Phyllis had noticed the holes in his
pants. Now she turned him around, eased
the shoulder straps of the hip waders off his shoulders, pulled the waders
down, and looked closer. “You’ve been
shot.”
“I
know that. But right now we have other
things to worry about. It won’t be long
before they come looking for us. I guess
they’ll search the lodge first. So we should have a little time.”
“Time
for what?”
“To
get anything we need from here and then get away.” Then, seeing some rope and two partially full
bags of feed, he added, “And maybe rig a little surprise for them.”
Phyllis
just shook her head and stood there as Nick pulled the hip waders back up and
went over to the stack of horse blankets.
He picked up two and brought them over to where she stood. As he started to put one on her, she
objected. “Hey, I’m no damn horse.”
“You’re
gonna wear this whether you want to or not.
Hold still. It’ll keep you warm
in the weather outside.”
“Damn. Okay, go ahead and make a horse out of
me. Better to be a horse than a horse’s
ass, I guess.”
“Or
frozen.”
Nick
smiled as he fitted the blanket on her back.
After hooking one of the clasps, he stood back, shook his head, loosened
the clasp, and folded the blanket down part way, then he re-hooked the clasp
and hooked the other one.
As
he stood back admiring his handy work, Phyllis frowned and pouted, but said
nothing as Nick turned and went to one of the bags of rotten horse food. He tied a rope around the top portion of the
bag, and tossed the end of the rope over the exposed beam nearest the doorway. He paused to take stock and think out the
best way to do what he had in mind.
After a few moments, he sighed, took out a butcher knife from his bag
and started cutting into another rope.
Soon he had it apart and made thin string from the strands of the
rope.
Next
he tied the string around the bottom of the feedbag, hoisted the bag up by the
rope, and moved it back a foot or so to make sure his line wouldn’t break from
the weight of the bag. After easing the
bag back down, he picked up the butcher knife, poked a hole in the middle of
the bag—which allowed an awful odor to escape—and placed the knife, butt first,
into the rotten feed. He was happy it
fit snuggly without movement in the damp, rotten feed.
That
accomplished, he raised the bag to a height he thought correct for his
plan. “Phyllis, hold this here for me.”
She
shook her head again, but did as told.
Then she watched as Nick climbed the stall door nearest his beam and
shinnied out on it until he reached the rope.
He took a firm hold of it.
“Okay, turn loose.”
He
then pulled up the slack rope end and wound it around the beam. When he had taken several turns, he tied it
off. Then he gripped the beam above his
head and dropped to the ground. Next, he
tossed the thin line over the next beam (away from the door) and slowly hoisted
the bag higher into the air. When he was
satisfied he had it high enough, he went to the door and tied the line off on
the door hinge and stood back to survey the situation. “Honey, the trick here is to rig it so when
one of those guys opens the door, the bag comes flying down and hits him with
the knife. Any ideas?”
“No,
Captain. You’re on your own on this
one. I haven’t a clue, but I like the
idea of sticking the guy who shot you.”
Not
knowing that Frank and Tony were much more interested in food than in pursuing
Phyllis and himself, Nick felt he had to come up with something quickly as he
stood there rubbing his chin trying to think of a way to rig his knife laden
bag. Deciding what to do, he quickly got
out another of the knives and made a notch in the exposed wall stud nearest the
door on the far side of the hinges. Then
he untied the line from the hinge he had wrapped it around. There was a knob on the bottom of the hinge
that he used to keep the line tight, then he laid the line out across the door
to the notched stud. After running the
line through the notch, he tied a knot at the end of it.
Next
he almost ran to the supply bag, took out one of the liquor bottles, and took
the lid off. He took a swallow,
grimaced, and offered it to Phyllis without comment. The bottle held schnapps. She took one look at it and handed it
back. “No thanks.”
He
gave her a dirty look, smiled, and downed the remainder of the bottle. Then he went over near the door and put the
bottle against a stud. Using the butt of
the knife, he broke it. He picked up a
piece of the bottle he thought would do and placed it in a groove on the door,
just above the line. Then he gently
raised the line up over the piece of broken bottle.
He
stood back and looked at his handy-work.
Satisfied, he nodded. “Hopefully
when they open the door, the glass will cut the line and the bag will come
flying down. Now, we better get out of
here. I have no intention of being here
to see if my little trap is going to work.”
“Good
idea,” Phyllis deadpanned, still not sure Nick’s great invention would work.
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