Page 36 of Deep Cover

“Perfect.” Rome’s face came back into the frame. “It’s probably a six-digit passcode.”

Caryssa hesitated with her finger poised over the keypad. “Zero-six-one-one-nine-four.”

“Don’t enter it that way. Flip it.”

She glanced at Rome on the screen Rorke held up. “What?”

“Flip the numbers. Four-nine-one-one-six-zero.”

“And if that doesn’t work? Seems more likely it would be straightforward.”

“You called me for answers, didn’t you? It will work.” His cocky tone would make her smile under other circumstances, but sweat was trickling down her spine.

In a surge of stubborness, she punched in the first combination. Nothing happened.

She swore the silence coming from the phone throbbed.

Taking a deep breath, she entered it backward, and the keypad’s small light changed from red to green with a soft click of the tumblers slipping into place.

“There it is.” Rome was definitely grinning.

“How the hell do you know how to do all this?” Rorke asked. “That’s the fourth safe I’ve seen you crack.”

Listening to their banter, Caryssa pulled the safe door open to reveal a second laptop tucked beside a stack of cash.

“How do you think I got the scar on my cheek?” Rome’s tone was too casual. “Got caught breaking into my buddy’s dad’s safe when I was sixteen. I only did it to see if I could, but he thought I was an intruder and sliced me before he realized. His dad was a cop, friends with mine. They let me off with a warning, but you never really forget what you’ve learned. Same as riding a bike.”

“Except the bike is a federal crime,” she added. She should have trained better for this situation the way she’d honed other skills just in case. Clearly, she had more work to do.

“Un-fucking-believable.” Rorke shook his head, though Caryssa caught his grin from the corner of her eye.

Caryssa bagged the second laptop and cash before she cast a look at the face on the video call. “O, when we get back, I’ve got two laptops for you to hack.”

O appeared in the view and let out a whoop. “Two laptops? Merry fuckin’ Christmas to me!”

Their enthusiasm was contagious, and she felt her lips twitch into a smile. “What’s O short for anyway? Oscar? Omar? Oedipus?”

“No.”

“You’ll get more answers out of that safe than you will out of him. Trust me.” Rome grabbed the bag containing both laptops.

The drive back felt shorter than the drive there. By the time they made it through the tunnel and onto the base, O was already waiting, hands out, ready for the hardware, eager as a kid on Christmas morning—only he’d asked Santa for a chance to recover forensic data instead of a football.

“These are gonna keep me busy for a while.” He was already carrying them toward his setup of screens glowing in a nest of cables that resembled an electronics graveyard more than a workstation.

“Any idea what you’re looking for?” she called after him.

“Deeds, leases, anything tied to shell companies.”

“Look for a PO box too. There’s a key.”

“Copy.”

“Call me the second you find anything,” she added.

He didn’t respond or look up, already sinking into his task, bowed over the desk and fingers flying.

She stood there a second, watching him work.