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“One minute,” Freddie says, checking the map on his phone. Barbie and her Ken-gone-bad look like they’re heading in Seb’s direction. “Do you have everything ready?”
The device is good to go. It’s another homemade creation that’ll blast through the door with no problem and is detonated by a button from a distance. Bram would be proud of my technical prowess. This was our best shot of getting around the retina scanner with our limited time and lack of supplies.
“All systems in place,” I confirm.
Freddie checks his Rolex and nods. “It’s time.”
I step out of our car in a postman’s uniform. I had to knock out a poor schmuck doing his rounds a few streets over. The lucky fucker will wake up in one of my favourite jackets, so it seems like a fair trade.
My hair is tied in a bun, hidden under a cap, and I pull the visor lower to shield my eyes. Nosey neighbours won’t look twice when I approach.
I hang my head while I climb the steps to the house and place the parcel carefully on the ground. I can’t hear any noise from inside, although I’m sure the walls are sound-proofed.
Two cameras positioned above the door point in my direction, and I reach into my pocket to grab a can of black spray paint. I spray indiscriminately, hoping I’ve covered the surface of the cameras. We don’t care about concealing our identities, but we want to make sure anyone watching from a distance can’t see what’s happening live.
“Hurry,” Freddie encourages through the earpiece. “You’re no Banksy, and you’re certainly no Raptor.”
I scoff at the mention of the mysterious unidentified artist. “Maybe I could be Wanksy.”
I snicker as I grab my crotch, even though Freddie can’t see my motion. Jokes aside, Freddie’s right. The Killers Club would get notifications of movement outside their front door. I open the cardboard box and turn my attention to the real job. I take the device out carefully and secure it to the door handle.
“Done.”
“Get back,” Freddie hisses. “The coast is clear.”
I return to the pavement and check again for pedestrians, mostly for Freddie’s benefit. I don’t care if someone gets caught in the crossfire, but Mr Holier Than Thou would never let me hear the end of it.
“Ready,” I confirm. “Let’s light this baby up.”
I press the button.
BANG!
It happens in slow motion, unfolding like an action scene from a film. It’s not as beautiful as watching Lord McGowan being blasted into pieces, but it’s a pretty sight, nonetheless.
After the explosion, the door remains in its frame and teeters on its hinges. It’ll be easy enough to smash it open using brute force now.
“Real subtle,” Freddie says, clapping me on the back. “The police will be on their way soon.”
“Not that soon,” I reply smugly. “I made a call to my brother. He owes me a favour. The Met is having technical faults and is behind on their calls.”
Freddie’s lips purse. He doesn’t like us working with my brother, even though having an evil twin can come in handy sometimes.
“Nice,” Seb comments from the abyss. “I’m leaving now. The two agents are closing in, and there’s no sign of Ivy. Good luck.”
“I’m not just a pretty face.” I grin. “See you soon.”
Freddie charges forward. “Let’s go.”
We climb the steps. I expected us to be met with a wall of ammunition, except for the fact it’s ghostly quiet when we reach the destroyed door. What’s going on? This is supposed to be an assassin’s base, not an old people’s home.
Freddie and I exchange a confused look. He’s thinking the same thing I am.
“Let’s not count our chickens just yet,” I say.
We use our combined strength to pry the door open enough to slip through the crack.
“Not too shabby.” I whistle, looking around the empty hallway with its fancy floors and chandelier. I remove a gun from my waistband. “Where’s the fun in this?”
