Midnight Sun (23 page)

Bingo!

He
walked
over
to
it
and
put
his
ear
to
the
door.
No
sound.
He
turned
the
handle,
pushed
the
door
open,
and
peeked
into
another
room.
It
was
about
twelve
feet
by
twelve
feet
and
lined
with
shelves
containing
stacks
of
black
leather-bound
books.
Arabic
writing—at least,
he
thought
the
squiggly
lines
were
Arabic—was impressed
in
gold
leaf
on
the
spines.

How
the
hell
is
anybody
supposed
to
read
that
scribbled-up
language?

He
moved
stacks
of
books,
but
found
nothing
else.
At
the
end
of
the
rows
of
shelves,
he
noticed
another
door.
It
was
partially
open,
and
when
he
drew
closer, he
saw
sunlight
from
outside
streaming
into
yet
another
room.
He
pushed
the
door
open.
The
light
came
from
a
small,
rectangular
frosted-glass
window
about
seven
feet
up
on
the
end
wall. It
made
him
think
of
a
gas
station
bathroom.
He
stared
at
the
black
plastic
crates
stenciled
with
pale
gray
letters stacked below the window.

PROJECTILE
–
MORTAR
–
60MM
HIGH
EXPLOSIVE

LOT354
051002
24EA
SL040812

Sammy
’
s
heart
stopped
and
his
jaw
dropped
open
as
he
realized
what
he
was
seeing.

“
Holy
shit,
”
he
whispered.
 
A
wave
of
terror
crashed
over
him
like
a
bolt
of
lightning
exploding
through
his
nervous
system.
A
shiver
rattled
through
his
body
and
he
nearly
wet
his
pants.
“
Terrorists,
”
he
said
in
a
choked
whimper.
“
I
knew
it.
They
’
re
freakin
’
terrorists.
Arab
bastards.
I
gotta
call
the
cops.
”

He
took
out
his
cell
phone
and
dialed
911.
As
his
finger
moved
over
the
green
call
button,
Sammy
suddenly
realized
his
predicament.
The
cops
would
ask
him
how
he
knew
about
the
weapons,
and
he
’
d
have
to
tell
them
how
he
had
arrived
in
the
room.

“
Stupid
Sammy,
”
he
muttered.
“H
ow
do
you
get
yourself
into
crap
like
this?
”

He
started
for
the
door,
but
a
quick
thought
hit
him.
He
turned
back,
and
using
his
cell
phone
camera,
he
snapped
several
pictures
of
the
room
and
its
contents.
He
’
d
email
them
to
the
FBI
’
s
website
with
an
anonymous
letter.
They
’
d
have
to
believe
him.

Sammy
put
his
hand
on
the
doorknob.
Deano
barked
outside,
the
kind
of
bark
he
gave
when
someone
was
coming
to
the
door
of
their
house.
His
heart
leaped
in
his
chest
and
the
hair
on
his
neck
bristled.
A
moment
later,
voices
echoed
across
the
expanse
of
the
main
room.
A
lump
formed
in
Sammy
’
s
throat,
and
his
mouth
felt
dry
and
sticky
like
after
a
dozen
bong
hits with cheap weed.