A sign by the entryway listed the occupants. Hardy’s presumed business was Peak Temporary Services. Shows a definite lack of imagination. True, since Mason’s front had been Acme Temp Services.
He noted the floor and office number—305—before moving on to the alley behind the building.
“Now I find out if I still have the touch,” he said under his breath as he surveyed the back door of the building. He figured the security would be good, but since it belonged to the building, not Hardy and the Agency, he could probably bypass it.
It took a while, and a lot of sweating and swearing, but he finally made it inside and got the security box disarmed. He mentally thanked Tony for teaching him a few tricks of the trade he hadn’t known before they met. He realized, as he did, that thinking of Tony didn’t hurt the way it used to. I miss him. I always will. But I’m finally resigned to the fact that he’s dead—and that it wasn’t my fault.