Read Online Live Bait by Ted Wood - Free Book Online

suggested.
    "No, it wouldn't. But I'll brief the boss first. We're skating close to the edge on this one. If this guy's a wheel he can shout harassment and cause trouble. The boss has to know."
    "Why not, he draws the big dollar." I was wondering what else Fullwell had in mind for me. I was enjoying the investigation after a leisurely summer at the Harbour. It was good to be part of a team again, even an unofficial team like this one. He filled me in.
    "I'm worried they're going to keep the pressure on," he said. "And there's too many security companies in town for us to be able to keep on taking falls. It'll put us out of business if we can't do our job properly."
    "So you want to run some surveillance?" It wouldn't be hard, I figured: a night spent driving from one site to another, finishing around four a.m. Punks like the two I'd caught don't work really late.
    He stood up and indicated his map. Toronto is split neatly in two by Yonge Street, which is pronounced "young" and is in the Guinness Book of Records as the world's longest street. It happened that the Bonded sites were divided almost equally, east and west. Fullwell indicated the colored flags. "We've got forty-seven fulltime sites, plus a couple of casuals that we hit once or twice a night. If we divide the sites we might just get around them by morning. Are you up to it?"
    "Sure, you can take the extra one. And, because I'm a nice guy, I'll let you take Sam with you, he'll run interference in case anybody wants to play rough."
    Fullwell looked at me gratefully. "I'd appreciate that. I'm not handy like you are with your karate or whatever."
    I didn't correct him but I don't know karate. What I am is a well-trained scrambler, versed in the unarmed combat techniques they teach in the U.S. Marines. I can hold my own against any untrained brawler but I'm no match for a classically trained martial artist. But most people don't understand subtleties. If you hit anybody hard enough they call it either karate or kung fu. I've given up arguing.
    "I left him in my car." I stood up. "Come on down with me and I'll turn him over to you, and give you the proper words of command. He's one hell of a good dog, but he's not a machine. You need to know the rules."
    "Great," Fullwell said. "I'm not chicken but I don't like this." He picked up his hat off the top of a filing cabinet and placed it on his head as carefully as if it were a crown, then opened his desk drawer. "This is a list of the addresses, I had it typed up ready. You take the East end, I'll take the West, some of the spots out there are hard to find first time."
    We went out, past the same girl, reading a new paperback with openmouthed concentration. I ordered Sam to go with Fullwell. He wasn't happy about it, but he's perfectly trained, if I do say so, and he went without a whimper. Then I briefed Fullwell thoroughly on commands and left, driving out to the first of my sites.
    I had a hunch that any trouble that occurred would be on their in-town sites. Most of the other locations were remote enough that a lone car cruising up and stopping nearby would be conspicuous. If the guard was alert he could see it and call for support right away. The exceptions were a few warehouses, like the one that had been hit the night before. The car could arrive out of sight of the guard and an intruder could come close without being noticed. I decided to concentrate on these spots, plus in-town places where someone could walk up without being seen. Towards morning I would take a quick pass at the others.
    I went first to the plant where the Sikh had been hit. The guy inside was a middle-aged loser, happy to have any kind of job. He sirred me to death so I figured he'd been in the army at one time. But he was fine. So were the next couple of guards I visited. I told them all the same thing. Watch for action on the perimeter, cars driving up, lone men coming close to the fence. And keep alert! Most of them had access to weapons of some