8.You wheeled up on your smooth-running ebony Harley-Davidson Heritage a little after midnight. Hid it in the dark shadows of the rear side of the vacant warehouse, and glanced around. No one about at this hour, including security patrols, at least for another half an hour—you had timed the Phantom Security patrol schedules. You easily popped the old lock on the loading-dock sliding door with the small wrecking bar you had carried in your saddlebag with some other tools, and entered the building.
Carefully, you searched around, ensuring no one was sleeping either in the tiny office in the far corner or behind any of the stacks of old pallets. There was no one squatting in this warehouse tonight. Satisfied that the building was truly vacant of occupants, you took out the Zippo, flicked it
