“Has this group you’ve been tracking done something like this before?” he asked. “Stolen explosives?”
“Not explosives, but they tried to break into a research laboratory in upstate New York. They triggered an alarm, and that scared them away, but not before they did some damage.”
“What kind of research?” he asked.
“Biological research. I wasn’t on the team then, so I don’t know a lot of details.”
“That’s all there is to see out here,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”
They walked around to the front of the building, where he unlocked two locks, pushed open the door and flicked on an overhead light. Cardboard boxes were stacked along one side of the single, concrete-floored room, each box marked Danger: Explosives.
“They took the explosives from back here,” Connor said and led her down a narrow aisle between boxes. At the wall, he turned and squeezed into another narrow space. “There isn’t supposed to be any space between the boxes and wall here,” he said. “They were able to pull the boxes right out the hole.”
She studied the void. “So, how many boxes are missing?”
“I think four, but we won’t know for sure until we count.”
They returned to the front of the room. Connor picked up a box and shoved it at her. Surprised, she grasped it, straining against the weight.
“That’s one,” he said. “We’re going to stack everything in the empty space on that side.” He pointed behind her.
“That doesn’t seem very efficient, to move every box,” she said.
“If we move every one, we won’t miss any. And we’ll know right away from the weight of the box if they took anything out and sealed it back up.”
She nodded. “I see your point.” She carried her box to the far wall and set it down, then returned to accept a second box.
They worked quickly. She couldn’t tell if he was really that fit or just showing off. After a while, Farley laid down on a pile of packing blankets and fell asleep. Arms aching, Stacy consoled herself that she wouldn’t need to hit the gym today. Maybe not all week.
“How did you end up with the FBI?” Connor asked when they were halfway through the stacks of boxes.
“I was recruited in college,” she said. No need to mention that she had already decided to apply to the Bureau when they showed up at a campus job fair.
“Were you studying law enforcement?”
“No, I was an accounting major.”
He laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“I guess you really can count.”
“I can add, subtract and divide too.” She added another box to the growing stack. Connor was ticking off each box on a sheet on a clipboard.
“How does that apply to working for the FBI?” he asked.
“Accountants are generally methodical and detail-oriented.”
“Do you like the work?”
“I do.” She admired the way his shoulders looked as he hefted another box. “How did you end up as a ski patroller?”
“I was looking for a job. I like to ski.”
“But how did you end up in charge of explosives?”
“Handling explosives was part of my job in the army. The resort was looking for someone with my experience, and they gave preference to veterans. It seemed like a good fit.”
