“Damn,” Cally muttered. “None of that was in the briefing.”
“It’s more than we need,” Noah said. “This’ll be a walk in the park. Knock out the security guards—and I’m not even sure that’ll be plural—grab their badges, open the doors, load up Alvin and get out.”
“Right,” Cally said. “Then all we have to do is move a seventeen-ton sub to a very public marina, crane it onto a boat and drive off without being seen.”
Zoey grinned at Noah. “She got that bit right.”
Cally bristled. “You got a problem with me, Zoey?”
The other woman turned in her seat to give her a frank stare. “Not one bit. I’m a prickly bitch and I like to tease. You got a problem with me?”
Noah chuckled dryly. “At least you’re self-aware.”
“No, I don’t have a problem with you.” If it was only teasing, she could ignore it.
“It’s how I deal with stress, okay?” Zoey added. “Comes of being the only girl, and working too many years with macho types like these two.” She jerked her thumb at Noah, then pointed at Tom, who shook his head ruefully.
“Okay, fine,” Cally said. At least it meant she wasn’t the only one feeling the pressure. In some respects, Zoey’s admission made her feel better.
“Honest answer?” Zoey went on. “I like you. You were cool under fire down I-93, and anyone who can keep their head while Noah’s driving is all right with me.”
“Thanks.”I guess.
“We’re here,” Noah said as he swung off the road, then killed the lights as they drove into a large, empty parking lot. “No chatter from here on out.”
A handful of dim streetlights lit the asphalt close to a path marked with WHOI signs, but Noah led them across the grass and through the trees to the exterior fence. Beyond, the lab was a large, gray featureless warehouse with no windows Cally could see, only vents and a roll-up loading bay at one end. A bright-yellow mobile crane sat hunched nearby, its boom stowed tight along its back.
“Heh,” Noah said with a nod toward it, “that’ll help.”
Tom didn’t wait to be told. He knelt on the grass, pulling out his bolt cutters, and snipped through the links. He wrapped a cloth around the jaws to dampen the sound, but still each snip echoed through the night, so loud Cally was sure they’d be heard.
Noah had his thermal scope out, a matte-black tool like a stunted telescope. “One guard in the office, feet up, arms folded. Looks like he might be asleep. One on patrol, far side. And shit, he has a dog.” He clicked his throat mic. “Ryan? Dog your side.”
“Thanks, we know.”His voice buzzed in Cally’s ear.
“Fine, the office is ours. You done, Tom?”
“Nearly.” He pulled the fence up, and there was enough space to crawl through.
“I’ve got the cameras.” Noah pulled a torch-like device from his belt, then slipped through the hole in the fence. He pointed it at the only camera on this side of the building, advancing toward it at an angle.
“What’s he doing?” Cally whispered. It didn’t seem to have any effect.
“Infrared flood blinder,” Tom replied. “Whites out the image, making it so overexposed it can’t see shit.”
“We’re good,” Noah murmured through his mic, keeping his device on the distant camera.
Zoey led the way, keeping low as she ran across the open ground to the side of the building where the office was annexed. Cally followed swiftly, trying to keep her footsteps light.
This is almost too easy.
Just as Noah had said it would be.
Across the lot, the dog barked twice, then yelped and fell silent. Cally peered through the window of the office, but the man hadn’t twitched. She could see the crown of his balding head; he sat slumped, chin on his chest.
Zoey crept up to the exterior door, placing her hand on the handle. She caught Cally’s eye, then gestured for her to go in first.
Cally blinked, pointed to her own chest and mouthed ‘Me?’
