Jacket on, pockets full, he raced down the short hall to the cupboard under the stairs, where his keys hung on a hook gathering dust. One hand snatched them from the hook while his other hand opened the cupboard door. The motion-activated light revealed nothing but a duffle bag and a switch on the wall.
Grab the bag. Slide the false switch to the side. Push the red button hidden behind it.
Bang.
The timing was perfect. Connor ducked through the tiny wooden doorway that opened in front of him. Another motion-detector blazed as he closed the door with a click and a smile.
“Bugger the buggery.”
Time for one last look around, patting his pockets and hefting the bag.
Bang. Thud. Crunch.
He’d never liked that gate. It was Francina who’d insisted on securing the property against the roving bands of starving refugees that had spilled onto the streets during the first lockdown.
Bitch.
But he still smiled when he pushed the red button on the inside of the door. His smile grew wider when the tell-tale ticking started.
By the time he was halfway down the stairs leading to the cellar he’d dug out of sheer boredom, he was even whistling. REM, if memory served. Da da da da da da da da da. “And I feel fine.”
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Cheers.
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