Read Online Formerly Fingerman by Joe Nelms - Free Book Online Page A

him.”
    â€œOh . . . Oops.”
    Now was the time for Plan B. She needed a Plan B.
    â€œStop the elevator. We have to get him out of there.”
    â€œThat would compromise our entire operation, we can’t—”
    ZZZZZZPPPTTTPPZZZPT.
    Every monitor in the van went black as all three agents clasped their hands to their headphones before whipping them off. The squeal of feedback was audible even as the headphones hit the floor.
    â€œWhat just happened?”
    Smoke filled the interior of the truck. Mr. Smug didn’t look so smug anymore.
    â€œUh, sorry.”
    Tom wasn’t the only one who picked up a jumbo coffee on the way to work this morning. But of the two, Tom was the one who didn’t spill his barely touched, Trenta Pike Place Roast on the computer that every camera and mic was running through.
    â€œHoly. Shit.”
    As the video system flamed out and smoke poured through every nook and cranny of the van, passersby could hear the three plumbers within coughing and cursing, and one of them finally screaming, “ALL UNITS GO GO GO! TAKE HIM DOWN! I REPEAT TAKE THE TARGET DOWN!” into their walkie talkies before bursting out of the side door.
    All units go . Tom heard the call and jumped to action, jamming his finger into the Down button over and over as quickly as he could. Maybe this was his chance to make up for the bathroom break.
    On the street several agents disguised as regular Joes and Janes sprang into action. The coffee guy whipped out his gun. The newspaper vendor hopped over a stack of magazines and ran for the entrance. The three-card Monte dealer left an eager German chump midgame to follow the other two undercover agents into the building.
    Brittany and her crack team made it into the lobby only to find it completely empty. Frank was nowhere to be found. Plan B was a bust. The Agent Formerly Known As Smug posed a theory.
    â€œHe’s gone. Maybe he isn’t going through with it.”
    Fat chance. Besides, Brittany had too much riding on this to take that risk. Plan C. What was Plan C?
    â€œThe stairs. He took the stairs. He didn’t want to do it in the lobby. We have to check every floor. Let’s go.”
    They hit the north-side stairs running. As they raced up, story by story, agents peeled off to individual floors. Brittany barked orders as she raced ahead of them all.
    Brad and Carmine’s elevator was quiet. Brad stood next to the doors and did his best to contain himself, but how often does a guy like him have days like this? His restraint didn’t last more than two floors. He looked over his shoulder and caught Carmine’s eye.
    â€œJust had an interview.”
    Carmine widened his eyes to affect the smallest possible courtesy reaction. B. F-ing. D.
    Brad considered singing the chorus of “The Bitch Is Back” but decided that wasn’t quite the tone he wanted to set. He really wished he could think of some other relevant, comeback-related song, but he came up empty and decided to just keep it simple.
    â€œWent great. I mean really amazing.”
    Carmine forced himself to nod. Whoopee .
    â€œThink I’ll stop by home and tell my wife about it before I go back to work. Give her the good news, if you know what I mean.”
    Oh, yes. Brad was feeling it. Carmine wasn’t.
    As Brad smiled and congratulated himself on being a handsome devil with a bright future, he noticed something on his left shoe. A scuff of dirt. The one flaw in his perfect day. He knelt down to wipe it off as the elevator dinged to a stop on the fourth floor. Two black shoes stepped into the open doors.
    Brad worked on the scuff mark, secretly grateful that someone else was entering the elevator. Maybe they would be interested in Brad’s remarkable interview.
    Some of the dirt he had scraped off floated up to Brad’s nostrils. He let loose a tremendous, soul-shaking, eye-watering sneeze. No one said, “Bless you.”
    â€œYup,