25. Twenty-Four
The hotel suite had transformed into an impromptu command center, laptops and surveillance equipment scattered across every surface. Xavier hunched over three screens, his massive headphones thumping bass loud enough that I could hear it from across the room. Behind him, laid out with military precision across the bed, were the evening's party clothes, though calling them clothes was charitable. Each piece had been chosen to draw exactly the kind of attention we needed at Roche's private showing.
The designer's reputation for these events was carefully hidden behind closed doors and NDAs, but the implications were clear in the dress code requirements: minimal and memorable. The kind of party where phones were surrendered at the door and guests used fake names to protect their reputations.
I watched Xavier work, cataloging details with decades of behavioral analysis experience. The predatory grace of his movements, the absolute focus as he navigated digital landscapes I couldn't begin to understand. Each keystroke was precise, deliberate, like a sniper adjusting for wind conditions. But there was tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before he'd discovered exactly what kind of showing we were infiltrating.
"What exactly are you doing?" I asked, moving closer to study the rapidly scrolling text across his screens.
"Someone else is probing Roche's security network," Xavier replied without looking up, his fingers never pausing their dance across the keys. "Not just random hackers, either. This is professional work." His smile turned sharp. "Going by the signature, it's KitchenSink."
“You know them?” I asked.
Xavier nodded. "She's ex-FSB cybersecurity who went private sector. Named herself after the time she crashed an oligarch's smart home system and made every faucet in his mansion run simultaneously." He slammed another energy drink, eyes locked on his center screen. "We've had some interesting run-ins in certain digital circles."
The EDM pulsing from his discarded headphones took on a more aggressive beat as his typing speed increased. "And right now she's trying to slip past Roche's security using..." He broke off in a laugh that held more appreciation than humor. "Using a modified version of code I wrote last year. Fucking Russians, always stealing my work."
"Sounds almost like you respect her," Xander said from their position by the window.
"We've never met in person." Xavier's smile turned sharp as his screens filled with new data. "But we keep running into each other digitally. Usually on opposite sides of whatever clusterfuck the bratva's cooking up." His fingers danced across keys in a blur. "Though I have to admit, she's got style. Watch this..."
He typed out a quick message in what looked like Cyrillic, then hit enter. The response was more Cyrillic text accompanied by a GIF of a small animated ghost giving the middle finger.
"Cute." Xavier's laugh held genuine amusement as he cracked his knuckles. "Game on, girl."
The digital sparring match unfolding across Xavier's screens was like watching a chess game played with nuclear codes. Every probe met with a countermeasure, every breach attempt turned back with elegant precision. Xavier's fingers never stopped moving, but I caught the slight smile playing at his lips as new messages appeared in rapid succession.
"She's good," Xavier muttered, more to himself than us. "Using the security team's own protocols against them. Making them chase shadows while she..." He trailed off, something shifting in his expression. "Oh shit."
"What?" I moved closer to the monitors, though the scrolling code meant nothing to me. Two decades of tactical training hadn't prepared me for this kind of warfare.
"She's not trying to breach the main security system." Xavier's voice held a mix of admiration and concern. "She's accessing the guard rotation schedules. Cross-referencing them with..." His hands flew across three keyboards simultaneously. "Fuck. She's mapping the blind spots. Creating windows."
I leaned closer to the monitors. That didn’t sound like someone planning to steal art or data. They were looking for holes in human surveillance and gaps in physical security coverage. The kind of intel you'd need to move people, not objects.
"For an extraction," I said, the pieces clicking into place. "They're mapping paths to move bodies through the building without being seen. Someone's planning to get people out during the party."
"Makes sense." Xavier didn't look away from his screens. "Maximum chaos, minimum witnesses. Everyone focused on the beautiful people while a team slips in through the staff entrance. Could be a rival collector, could be family, could even be another assassin who caught the same contract."
"Or Viktor," I said quietly. The words made Xander's shoulders tense where he stood by the window. When he turned to meet my eyes, I saw my own suspicions reflected there. Viktor's surveillance photos, his barely contained rage at the dinner… Maybe the old bastard's paternal instincts weren't completely dead after all.
Another message popped up, this one accompanied by what looked like a tiny animated bear drinking vodka. "She's good. But she's not as good as me."
His fingers blurred across keys as he typed out a response in Cyrillic. The answering message came almost instantly, followed by a stream of code that made Xavier actually laugh out loud.
"Oh, you want to play?" He cracked his knuckles, grinning like a predator who'd just spotted prey. "Let's play."
I crossed to where Xander still stood by the window, drawn by the tension I could read in their posture. My hands found their hips automatically, needing the contact to ground us both as I processed the new complications.
"Three different players moving at once," Xander murmured, leaning back against me slightly. "All with their own agendas. This just got a lot more complicated."
"Then we adapt," I said quietly, keeping my voice low enough that Xavier couldn't hear. "Use the chaos to our advantage. Get to Misha before anyone else can move."
Behind us, Xavier made a triumphant sound. "Got you, you beautiful genius." His screens filled with new data, windows popping up faster than I could track. "She let me catch her. Wanted me to see what she's planning."
"Why would she do that?" I asked, though I was starting to suspect I knew the answer. In my experience, when an enemy deliberately showed their hand, they were either setting up a trap or offering cooperation.
"Because she's not trying to stop us." Xavier typed out another message. "She's trying to coordinate. Make sure we don't get in each other's way when everything goes to hell."
A final message appeared, this one in English: "Try not to die, pretty boy. Would hate to lose my favorite playmate."
Xavier's answering laugh held genuine warmth. "Guess we better start getting ready. Don't want to keep the psychopaths waiting."
I watched him shut down his systems with military precision, every trace of his digital infiltration erased. We had just a few hours until the party.
"We should do a final equipment check," I announced, checking my watch. " And we need to solve the weapons screening problem."
Xavier nodded, all business now that the digital dance was done. "There'll be a full pat-down, metal detectors, scanner wands. They'll be thorough."
"Not to worry. A complex problem requires an elegant solution." Xander spread several items over the table from one of his shopping bags. Each piece looked like it belonged in a museum rather than an arsenal.
I picked up what looked like an ornate brooch. Closer inspection revealed it hid a ceramic blade so thin it would slip past most metal detectors. The pin itself was crafted from a non-metallic composite that would read as simple decorative jewelry. The craftsmanship was exquisite, deadly beauty wrapped in art nouveau curves.
"Weapons disguised as accessories. How about that?" I admired the lethal elegance of each piece with a low, impressed whistle.
Xander pulled out several more items that looked like nothing more than high-end fashion pieces. A bracelet with a razor-sharp edge disguised as an intricate filigree design. Earrings with tips sharp enough to puncture an artery. A hair clip that could become a deadly garrote with a simple twist. Each piece was a work of art that concealed death in its delicate lines.
"Fashion is always camouflage," Xander murmured, picking up a brooch, their fingers tracing the sweeping curves with practiced grace. "The most dangerous weapon is the one nobody sees coming."
"These will work," Xavier said, examining each piece with professional appreciation. "But we need redundancy. Backup options in case primary weapons are compromised."
"Already handled." Xander pulled out what looked like an ornate designer clutch, their expertise evident in how they handled each piece. "The lining has compartments that read as normal structural elements on scanners. And the dress itself..." They withdrew a length of midnight silk. "The seams are reinforced with carbon fiber that shows up identical to standard boning on pat-downs. Expensive enough to be believable as couture, but custom modified by Lucky Losers' tech team."
I examined the construction with growing appreciation. The modifications were invisible unless you knew exactly what to look for. Even the most thorough security screening would read it as typical high-end fashion infrastructure.
I moved closer as he laid out the evening's wardrobe. This was more than just preparation for a mission now. This was about getting all of us out alive.
"Speaking of positioning," Xavier cut in, his voice all business. "We need to go over sight lines. Optimal placement for quick access to exits while maintaining cover." His eyes met mine with cold precision. "And clear communication protocols for when things inevitably go sideways."
The challenge in his voice was clear. He might be working with us, but he hadn't forgotten his earlier concerns. Good. We needed that edge of protective paranoia tonight.
"You're right," I said. "Let's break it down. Full tactical review of all contingencies."
Surprise flickered across Xavier's face before his mask slipped back into place. He hadn't expected me to agree.
"Here's what we're walking into," Xavier said, pulling up the floor plans. "Roche's 'private showings' follow a pattern. Guests arrive in fifteen-minute intervals. Keeps the neighbors from noticing too much traffic. Phones and recording devices are surrendered at entry. Heavy security screening, but..." His expression turned grim. "They're more focused on keeping recording devices out than weapons."
"Makes sense," I said. "Half the guests will be prominent figures. Nobody wants their sex tapes leaked on social media."
"Exactly. Which means the real security checkpoints aren't at the main entrance." Xavier highlighted several rooms on the display. "They funnel guests through here first. Looks like an official reception area, very proper. But the real party happens in the lower levels. Second security screening before you descend, much more... intimate."
"Let me guess," Xander said, their smile sharp with understanding, "they're checking for wires, cameras, anything that could document what happens down there. Security always underestimates what can be hidden in plain sight."
"And that's our advantage." Xavier switched views. "The guards are focused on technology, on preventing recordings. They're not expecting..." He trailed off, glancing at the weapons we'd laid out.
"They're not expecting anyone to bring death to an orgy," Xander finished quietly.
"Exactly. And here's the other weakness." Xavier switched back to the floor plan. "The private rooms down here? They're all connected by service corridors, a legacy of the building's history. Staff access for cleanup, for bringing in supplies without disturbing the guests."
"Of course," I said, the tactical possibilities clicking into place. "Can't have the help seeing too much. Which means those passages will be mostly empty during the party itself."
"Minimal security presence," Xavier confirmed. "They're more worried about keeping guests contained than watching the staff routes. If we time it right..."
We spent the next hour refining the strategy, identifying infiltration points and escape routes through the maze of private rooms and servant passages. The true nature of Roche's party created both challenges and opportunities, the intense focus on privacy working both for and against us.
"Standard blind spot in high-end security," I agreed. "Focus on the obvious entry points, overlook the service routes."
"Which is exactly what at least two other players are planning to exploit." Xavier switched to a different overlay. "KitchenSink's probes focused heavily on these back corridors. But look at the timing of her system access. She's specifically targeting the nine forty-five guard rotation. Meanwhile, I found evidence of someone else mapping the kitchen delivery schedule. They're planning to breach during the staff changeover at ten fifteen."
Xander leaned closer to study the plans, their tactical mind clearly at work. "The real question is which route Roche will use if things go bad. A man like that always has an escape plan."
"Three," Xavier corrected, pulling up another schematic. "Primary exit through the wine cellar. Their vintage collection makes a convenient excuse for a fortified tunnel system. Secondary route via the garage level. He probably has vehicles staged. And based on the building modifications I found permits for..." He highlighted a section of the roof. "Emergency helipad, carefully concealed as 'architectural features' in the renovation plans."
"Those are just the official routes," I pointed out. "Someone like Roche will have others that don't show up on any plans."
"Already thought of that." Xavier's smile was sharp as he switched views again. "I cross-referenced the original building blueprints with current power consumption data. There's a significant draw coming from what's supposedly a sealed section of the old servant's quarters. Betting that's where he keeps his art studio, and his real escape route."
"We need to control those exits," Xander said, their expression focused as they traced potential routes on the display. "Funnel him toward a predictable extraction point."
"That's where this comes in." Xavier pulled up what looked like a maintenance schedule. "The building runs on an automated climate control system, which is probably essential for preserving his collection.”
I grimaced at how casually Xavier referred to the literal bodies Roche was probably sitting on.
He highlighted several points in the basement. "The back-up generators are arranged in sequence. Trip one, and the whole system initiates emergency protocols. Including magnetic locks on specific doors."
"Forcing them to use pre-planned evacuation routes," I said, appreciating the elegance of it. "When did you get access to the building systems?"
"About twenty minutes ago." Xavier grinned up at me. "Amazing what you can do with a security system that was last updated six years ago. But here's the real prize." He pulled up a staff roster. "See these names? Cross-referenced them with recent financial transactions. Three of Roche's key security personnel have received substantial deposits from numbered accounts in the past week."
"Someone's bought their cooperation," Xander said. "Question is, which player are they working for?"
"That's the beautiful part." Xavier highlighted the transaction dates. "Different accounts, different days. I think we're looking at multiple buyers. Which means when everything goes sideways..."
"The security team fractures," I finished. "Some backing Roche, some working for our mysterious friends, maybe even a few loyal to Viktor. Perfect chaos."
We spent the next hour refining the strategy, identifying backup positions and emergency rally points. Xavier thought like someone who'd been planning operations for decades, but with a digital native's grasp of modern security vulnerabilities. Every contingency was mapped, every possible complication accounted for.
The Paris afternoon slanted golden through our windows as we prepared for whatever the darkness held. Three hunters preparing for the night ahead: Xavier with his digital expertise, me with my tactical experience, and Xander with their masterful understanding of how to turn appearance into advantage. Each dangerous in our own way, united by a single purpose.
Keep everyone alive. Get Misha out. Deal with Roche.
Everything else was just details.