The sound was so loud that Griffin had to pull the earflaps off. “Something just happened, we might have to go in.” He suggested. Harold just grinned. He wanted to go in and smash the place an take what they wanted but Griffin had got in his way. Jake looked worried. “It’s day, can’t go in durin’ the day.”
Griffin lowered the earflaps again. He could hear movement in the room now. It sounded strange. Mr. Drake had not returned, his footsteps were heavier than this person’s. He was trying to figure out the breathing but it was moving around too much. As long as he could keep the horn of the gun centered on the person inside the building, he could hear the slightest sound they made.
Had Drake sent in that old fool Coffer to retrieve his things? There was the sound of papers being moved or no, a book’s pages being turned. Then the sound of a gasp. Griffin checked the gun, the voice sounded too high pitched. Something had to be out of adjustment. He checked the adjustments but they all checked good.
He could hear something metallic drag across a wooden surface. He had been trained to recognize common sounds like that.
“Wha’cha hearin’ boy?” Harold demanded. He was just hired muscle but for some reason he thought he was running the operation.
“Someone is in the room but something isn’t right, it’s not Drake or Coffer. Now be quiet and let me figure out who he is.” Griffin shushed.
“No no, we can’t be seen breaking in!” Jake moaned.
“Quiet Jake, you were paid enough to do this, if we need to. . .Shh! What is that?” Griffin focused. There was a gurgling sound, a sizzle and then a loud whistle. Even the other men heard it coming from the house. “He’s got the cutter! That’s settles it, we can’t wait.” Griffin raised the gun and fired a bullet, not of lead or copper but of pure sound at the person inside. Normally he would not have missed, even when firing through a brick wall like that but the whistle of the cutter made it hard to figure out where his target was. The cutter turned off. Griffin hoped he hadn’t damaged it.
“Come on!” He ran toward the house, and beckoned for his associates to follow. He was a faster runner than both of them and it was a good thing too. He wasn’t sure what Harold would do if they encountered any of the house help. If he stayed in the front he could at least try and prevent anyone from getting hurt.
A boy came out of the back door. He was probably a stable boy on his way to take care of the animals. Griffin raised the Acoustic Gun and shouted into the mouthpiece. The gun amplified his voice so powerfully that it knocked the young child right out and he collapsed to the floor. It was distasteful to Griffin to do that but he knew the boy would be fine in an hour or two.
They charged into the house, having only a vague idea of the layout of the house, they found themselves taking wrong turns a few times.
Finally they found the room, the door had been broken in and a massive brass candle holder lay on the ground and books lay all over the floor. Was someone else here for the same reason they were? Griffin rushed into the darkened room. “Jake strike a match.” As Jake complied the dim light allowed them to peer into the room.
Griffin was horrified, a young girl lay on the floor. He rushed over and knelt at her side trying to see if she was still alive. He had shot her! How could he have been so careless he wondered? No one in the family ever went into this room except Drake, why did she go in today? He looked for a wound but only found a bruise near her ear. Thank goodness the sound of the cutter threw off his aim. The young girl took a shallow breath, he hadn’t killed her after all.
“She’s alive, good! Quickly get the cutter and the notes, lets get out of here before someone sees us.” Griffin ordered.
“I’ve got the cutter.” Harold declared.
Jake looked around the room, “The notes aren’t here Griffin.”
“That’s too bad, I thought I heard her flipping pages. I would have expected it to be here. Let’s go!” Griffin and the two men left with the device.
The girl got up off the floor and pulled the notebook from the folds of her skirt. “Griffin. Now I have a name to track my father down with.” Emily said.