Image via Wikipedia

Image via Wikipedia

Five minutes later.

            “Manuel, take that bollixed rubbish out; we open in ten minutes, and if there’s one piece of rubbish on the floor, I’ll knock you sideways!”

“But no one ever comes ‘ere”—

“No excusies!”

Manuel, or whoever it was, kicked open a door just as Frank stealthily crept around the back.  Jumping around the brick corner, Frank heard Manuel slam the trash into a bin and storm back into the restaurant just as the rubbish bin fell over.  Cursing his supervisor, he returned to the dumpster and picked up the bin.  “Close the door, Manuel.  Wipe the windows, Manuel.  Clean the stove, Manuel.  Shine me vuddy shoes, Manuel.  No, you bloody wanker!  I—said—NO!”  There was a loud noise and a shattering of wood. “Wish that was your effin’ head, you drinking, Irish sod!”  He closed the door with a snap, a reverberating echo shaking Frank on the spot.

Supposing he was having a bad day, Frank paused for a few moments to allow Manuel the greatest possible distance from him before entering the building.  He quietly opened the door, and, as a shadow crossed the hallway’s wall, he leapt into a storage closet and closed the door, peering through the shafts.  A person walked down the hallway, and entered what might be a kitchen.  Moving away from the slide door, he looked around in the dark room.  He wouldn’t dare go anywhere until Juve started doing something productive; where was he?  He doubted Juve would leave him at this crucial point in the mission, for, regardless of what Juve would do afterward to Frank, he still needed to complete this mission.  Sliding down the wall, he knocked a light switch down, and light flooded the closet.  Cursing madly, he twisted and flicked it up.  Peering upward to see if he could unscrew the bulb, he noticed a vent was to the right of it.  Was it possible?  Could it be that easy?  Frank fumbled around, his fingers scrabbling over surfaces like a spider’s, and located a ladder he’d seen earlier when the light was on.  Moving it under the vent, Frank climbed up it, and felt around for the vent.  He needed light, something he feared to use.  Seeing no other option, he nudged the knob down with his foot, and looked at the screws on the vent.  He’d need something to undo those…searching his pocket, he pulled out a dime, and unscrewed all four screws.  Slowly releasing the vent, he dropped it on a coat rack, and began wriggling his way into the crawlspace.  He pushed, his arms working like a crab’s at this point, his lower body wiggling; he was almost in, and he kicked his foot off an object as a last push to get him in when—Crash.