AllFreeNovel
Share Us
This is when I enter through the unlocked door that three soldiers hovered by a few minutes ago.
Giannis is quiet beside me, his steps matching mine, and we duck behind another small building and keep to the shadows until the office I need comes into view. The keypad outside is the sole illumination after pressing the frequency blocker my father provided, a gift from the buyer to ensure our faces aren’t seen.
Not that I trust it, but I warned him I’d talk if caught. If the equipment he gave fails, I’m not protecting anyone.
“Code?” I ask Giannis without looking over, my eyes on the device as I slip on gloves. “Five and counting.”
He understands what I mean and follows suit, latex now covering his hands. The holiday-themed explosives are spread and the next two go off not far from the first, leaving us a short window before all is confirmed and they return to their post.
“1982.” Voice low, he moves a little closer while I punch in the numbers. It pings green and the door disengages, the audible click loud, yet doesn’t draw attention. “Get in.”
“Hit the next explosive.”
“Two minutes.”
For someone who’s never done this before, Giannis is a great help. I don’t feel alone and breathe a little easier while scrambling the signal again, making sure we have no surprises inside. However, nothing takes the pressure off like seeing the jade statue inside of the glass containment, it’s enclosure small and unprotected.
At least, I think so until a small red dot captures my attention. The minuscule circle glints off a metallic rim at the back, its beacon bouncing off and landing on the artifact’s head.
“Second alarm?” he asks, stopping beside me.
“Yeah.”
“Can you undo it?”
“This one has a remote. We just need to find it.” How do I know? Because I’ve seen it before inside of Dad’s office at the Thompson Center. The door to the left of his desk leads to a small room where they file and keep certain documents, things that the public doesn’t need to see, and I was there the day it was installed.
Same small bead of light bouncing off metal. Same two wires poking out of a small hole, an open conduit, meant to deter if touched. The remote that turns it on or off is never far from the receiver, and as I turn my head and look around, I find a small stack of books that seem out of place.
A young adult series based on a vampiric love story doesn’t seem like something the owner of this office reads. Nothing on his dossier—the fifty-page life story with everything from his breakfast routine, the seedy establishments he visits on the regular, or the three mistresses he keeps—hint at him being an avid romance reader.
Walking closer, I ignore Giannis’s questioning look and stop in front of the books. To an outsider, they seem normal, the outside worn down from use. However, not so much when you’re close. From my vantage point a few feet away, I can tell they’re fake but painted to appear realistic.
“Bingo,” I whisper, looking around to detect a secondary alarm, but after finding none, I pick up the small box and find exactly what I want below. The device is small, no bigger than a candy bar and with two buttons at the center.
“How did you—”
“Later,” I cut him off, pressing the right circle while holding my breath. I’m going off of a memory here, what I overheard the installation company explain to a pompous governor who ignored his child being there, and when nothing goes off, I let out a rough exhale. “Christ, I’m going to need a lot of liquor tonight.”
“You and me both, girl. This shit is heart attack inducing.”
A whirling sound fills the room, a low buzz, before the display goes dark and the glass door unlocks. We look at each other, both smiling before rushing across the room and exchanging the pieces.
One jade, the other cheap ceramic painted green.
Within seconds we’ve made the switch and closed the display, re-engaging the lock. The remote is put back, the room given a quick glance over before we try to exit.
Try, because standing outside the room the moment Giannis peeks out is a man dressed in a soldier’s uniform. He’s tall, way over six feet, and the scowl on his face has me nearly stumbling back. He looks at us and the small backpack on my shoulder before stepping aside.
We don’t move, though. Too scared.
“Leave before you are caught,” he hisses, hand on his gun, and it’s the heavy Spanish accent that makes the air catch in my throat. Not that I’m given much time to ask him anything; Giannis all but drags me from the room before I can ask who he is.
Did my father send him?
Why is he helping?
The man moves past us, his weapon drawn high while there seems to be a war zone not far from us. Many shouts, some gunfire, and all while the stranger walks us to the exit and tilts his head at the door.
