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CHAPTER 1
Sloane
It’s times like this I wish I had an extra arm. How is a successful thief supposed to thief successfully with only one free hand? Can’t. Impossible. Hence my current wish for the extra arm.
Breaking into Double Decker Tech and Co. would be an even bigger breeze if the splintering back window I’m trying to climb through hadn’t just busted. Detached as soon as I pushed it open, to be specific, rusty hinges and all.
“Fuck you and your family,” I hiss as I grip the frame with both hands, then set it down against the wall inside.
What if I’d been a killer or something? The camera system surrounding this Victorian death-trap of a house-turned-office couldn’t have been cheap. But the neat and tidy business should consider springing for a carpenter to fix the rickety French door.
They can scrounge up the petty cash for half a decent outdoor security set up, no problem. But a window?
“Shame really,“ I whisper, just in case there are any ghosts around.
What? I am a sought after professional in the business of banditry. One doesn’t get this way without being a little paranoid.
But anyway, it didn’t take much to disarm the one camera outside I couldn’t get around. Just a big rock and fifty bucks for the kid who threw it earlier this afternoon.
Double Decker Tech and Co. is accustomed to the random foul ball, which I knew would raise no red flags when my hired arm took it out. Especially since I made sure the young whippersnapper did it in front of Arthur Decker, one of two Deckers and the last to leave the office.
If I had to rely on hacking skills on the cameras outside, the interference would be arduous and way too obvious. Sloppy work and not in a helpful way, pretty much.
I try to skate by either under the radar or as confusingly as possible during a job. I find crimes that seemingly don’t make sense on the outside looking in tend to cure people of their need for an answer. And relatively fast. Ordinary and under the radar is my go-to, but messy yet explainable could describe my current employer’s request.
So now, when the twin owners of Double Decker Tech and Co. come in and discover their computers are trashed, they won’t suspect a multi-layered con. Not when they’ll be too busy poring over the false evidence I’m about to plant.
It all starts with a little misdirection. This neighborhood has a serious raccoon problem, and I hope to blame a great number of the feral and bushy coated bandits for the soon-to-be fried systems. After I get the information I need, of course.
“If I were a big fat schematic, where would I be?”
I log into the company system using the information my employer provided. The hard part isn’t getting into the system this time, though ordinarily a good hacking challenge is half the reason I breathe, but not tonight. Tonight is about never being suspected. Meaning so long as I leave this PC unusable, there won’t be a login trail to follow. Not when these files are offline.
I locate what I came for. Double Decker’s current patent, something that will revolutionize the vacuum cleaner forever. Or so my client has me thinking. I make a copy of the addresses and names in the file folder, then transfer everything onto my hard drive. I have no idea what any of the loopy, cylindrical schematics I’m looking at mean, but I copy them to the drive as directed.
The client who tapped me to procure the lucrative idea didn’t want competitors finding out, so they loved my out of the box idea – let the animals take the blame. That and the expendable employees.
The house sits on the corner of a very busy street and shopping mall, which might be the wrong place to develop a lucrative idea when deep pockets want what you have. Even more so when those deep pockets can hire me.
Once the patent is copied and slightly altered, Pro-Glow Cleaning will just look lucky. And Double Decker and Co. will learn to keep their cutting edge schematics hidden a little better. I get to work spraying the living room turned office area with raccoon pheromones.
If I’m lucky and right in my calculations, by the time the office opens in the morning, a feral parade will have swept through the place. Hopefully, the damage done to the electronics will point the blame at nature and happenstance.
A busted window and employees who keep snacks on their desks definitely doesn’t scream secure or smart. But these details, plus a raccoon problem? Now that’s a repair bill if I ever heard one.
I pull out the custom-made snacks from my jet black cargo pants and spread the cookie, crackers, and potato chip medley all over the desks.
I free the bottle of root beer taped to my ankle and relish the hissing sound of escaping air. My mouth waters at the sound, and I allow myself a long drink before dumping the rest onto the keyboards and monitors.
“Ah!” So satisfying.
I do the same with the second bottle taped to my other ankle, then place it near one of the monitors. Suddenly, a light tapping sound grabs my attention, and I spin on my heel to face a second intruder.
“Well, well, well,” I say to the raccoon.
He’s sniffing at the hole where the splintering window used to be. I wonder how long the animal has sat on the ledge perched and watching.
“You’re early, but so am I.”
