This week with Arlene and Jeff:
...Morales' nerves were on edge. "Dammit, let's fucking go," he hissed. "The hair has been standing up on the back of my neck ever since we got here. I keep looking over my shoulder expecting to see somebody watching us."
"Well, we're just about done," Robertson replied. Once they were outside, he made certain the back door was closed properly, then took out the tiny transmitter.
"Shit," Morales said. "Won't that thing transmit from the car? I thought you said it had a half-mile range."
"Yeah, it's supposed to, but I want to make damn sure our little surprise goes off. Should it not, there's plenty of arson evidence in that room."
"But there's no way they can tie us to it," Morales argued.
"Mazarella can. And his man was emphatic that it not look like arson. I for one do not want to piss him off. I've heard too much bad shit about him. Do right for Mazarella and he rewards you damn well. Fuck up and you disappear."
"Well, fucking do it, then."
"Shine the light so I can see better," Robertson ordered, holding the transmitter out.
There were two quiet chuffing sounds almost in unison. Robertson dropped the transmitter and grabbed his throat. His hand came away with a tiny dart that he could vaguely see in the moonlight. "What the f…" he got out before he plunged face-first into the snow.
Morales just let out a squeak as he toppled over backward.
"Well done," Lieutenant Mayfield told the two troopers over their helmet radios. The Lieutenant had a ringside seat as he sat in his office and watched everything via the troopers' helmet cams. "Helicopter is on the way."...
Have a goodun;