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“It’s SOP,” Rowe said in a know-it-all tone that had Noah rolling his eyes even though no one could see it. His lover was getting a little better around JB, but he couldn’t stop himself from getting his digs in whenever he could. Yes, code names were definitely part of their standard operating procedure, but JB had no idea that this kind of insanity was normal for them.
“Well, when we do pick code names, I’m claiming Alpha One,” JB declared, undeterred by Rowe’s tone.
Both he and Rowe groaned at JB. Poor man. He had no idea what he was missing out on.
“And that just proves why you’re not going to be picking the code names,” Rowe stated with glee.
“What?” JB cried.
“We’ll explain later,” Noah said as he jerked open one of the doors. Grabbing his gun from his side holster, Noah hurried inside the building. Rowe would be following on his heels within the next thirty seconds, followed by JB one minute after that. “I’m inside.”
“Starting my timer,” Rowe replied, all joking gone from his voice.
Noah cut through the main lobby, heading down a hallway lit only by a set of tiny emergency lights left on overnight. He’d memorized the first-floor layout of the building so that at a critical moment he wouldn’t have to refer to the paper version he carried. The lobby didn’t hold much, and it certainly wasn’t inviting as you would expect if you were trying to get clients.
Sure, Ward Security’s lobby wasn’t much, but it had a high-class, polished feel to it that was so different from the back offices and the training area. But then, clients rarely saw the training facilities. There were several offices and fancy conference rooms where people could talk to customer-care representatives about their needs. Rowe had always grumbled that those were his suit and tie days.
And the moment Andrei had been moved up to COO, Rowe had shoved those client meetings off on the poor man. It really was best for the business. Rowe claimed it was because Andrei was sexier in a suit, but Noah was sure it came down to the fact that Andrei had a softer, gentler touch with the would-be clients than Rowe. Andrei innately knew when to push and when to coddle. Rowe was all growling and table-pounding. Great for bedroom fun, but bad for business.
But Clayborne only had a plain sign with the company logo, which was a simple sword clenched in a fist. A couple of basic, uncomfortable-looking chairs were off to one side, and there was a plain wooden desk that looked like it had been picked up from the side of the road, with a phone on it and a blank notepad. There wasn’t even an area rug or a potted plant.
There was no doubt in Noah’s mind; Erik Johnson had no interest in getting clients. Clayborne was just a front for its darker, mercenary activities.
“I see the target. The swipe pad light is on,” Noah murmured. There were only a few doors off the hall, but the one at the end of the hall looked heavier and had a little card reader sensor pad to the left of the doorjamb. He’d barely finished speaking when the green light on the pad went out.
“You’re clear,” Cole replied.
The man might be quiet, but he was damn good at his job.
Noah pulled open the heavy door, muscles straining under the weight. Slipping inside, he squinted against the darkness. He could barely make out the towering stacks with an array of red, yellow, green, and blue lights flashing on and off along the servers. There weren’t a lot of them, but enough to handle any computers within the office and the security system. He hurried down the narrow aisle, digging into his bag of tricks as he moved. His fingers brushed along a device barely larger than his fist and he grabbed it. Moving it to his other hand, he reached back in and grabbed a roll of duct tape. He couldn’t see it in the dim light, but he knew he’d packed his favorite Abraham Lincoln rubber duckie roll.
When he reached what looked to be the middle of the room, he stepped up to one of the stacks and started taping the device directly to one of the servers. Cole had been clear that they should all have a thick shielding and ground that would protect from things like a lightning strike directly to the building, but not enough to take a direct blast from within the room. Rowe’s homemade electromagnetic pulse bomb should wipe out their servers and take down the building’s entire security system.
With the EMP in place, Noah set the timer and ran to the door. “Five seconds,” he warned. He got the door open and slid out into the lobby hall, pulling the thick door closed behind him. The EMP didn’t carry a blast that was particularly harmful to humans, just computers. However, Noah wasn’t entirely sure how long it had been since Rowe had cooked up one of his special little devices, and he wasn’t taking any chances in case his crazy boyfriend got it a bit wrong.
