He didn’t feel at all nervous with the shoebox sitting on his lap. It was stable and he’d done harder jobs than this. Bar Beach looked beautiful as they drove past under the stars, and Fenton Avenue was as quiet as a graveyard when Agent Sierota stopped the Cherokee near the streetlight opposite Mick’s house. ‘That’s the van in the driveway,’ said Sierota. ‘There’s a light on in the house,’ Agent Moharic noted. ‘Don’t worry,’ said Agent Niland. ‘No one will hear a thing.’ He smiled at the other agents. ‘They will later, though.’ Agent Niland got out of the Cherokee and, with Agent Moharic behind him holding a torch, stepped silently across to the van. In no time he had the bonnet open and in the soft light from the torch had no problem finding the red coil wire, the starter solenoid and the positive cable on the battery. Minutes later Agent Niland had the bomb wired up and the four agents were driving back to Bible Bungalow. After a night of fun and good healthy erotica, Mick and Jesse were sound asleep in Jesse’s queen-size bed in Stockton.
