Chapter 39
Calloway
Icheck myself in the rearview mirror of Xander’s borrowed car, adjusting the black balaclava until only my eyes show. The fabric itches against my stubble, but it’s a small price to pay for anonymity.
“Testing, testing. Can you three hear me?” Xander’s voice crackles through our earpieces.
“Unfortunately,” I mutter, glancing at Jiya beside me.
Even with most of her face covered, her eyes dance with excitement.
Something about her enthusiasm for breaking and entering sends heat through my veins.
The woman tried to kill me multiple times, and here I am, finding her criminal tendencies endearing. Love has made me certifiable.
“I can hear you fine,” Jiya says, her voice muffled through her mask.
From the backseat, Lazlo adjusts his own mask, wincing as the movement pulls at his still-healing stab wound. “Roger that, Houston. Patient showing signs of extreme anxiety and possible bowel distress.”
“That’s disgusting,” Jiya says, turning to face him.
“Medical fact. Fear activates your sympathetic nervous system, which can stimulate your digestive tract.” Lazlo taps his medical bag. “I brought Imodium just in case.”
I close my eyes. “Why are you like this?”
“Childhood trauma, mostly,” Lazlo replies cheerfully. “Same as you.”
“Children,” Xander’s voice cuts in. “Focus. The security guard makes his rounds every thirty minutes. He just completed one at 2:17 AM, which gives you until 2:47 to get in and out.”
I turn to face my companions. “One more time. We enter through the service door. Xander will disable the alarm for sixty seconds. We move to the third floor, room 312. The tapes are in a locked cabinet. I’ll handle that. We grab everything from the past month and get out. Questions?”
“Yeah.” Lazlo raises his hand like we’re in elementary school. “If we get caught, can I claim Stockholm Syndrome? I was just stabbed by her, after all.” He points at Jiya.
“I barely nicked you,” Jiya snaps.
“You perforated my intercostal muscle.”
“Oh, please, it was like two inches deep, max.”
“Two inches can hit major organs. I’m a paramedic, I would know.”
“Children,” I chide, checking my watch. “It’s time. Xander, we’re moving.”
We exit the car, crossing the empty parking lot to the back of the building. The service entrance stands before us, a simple metal door with an electronic keypad and a small security camera above it.
“Camera loop engaged,” Xander says in our ears. “You’re invisible. You have sixty seconds to get through that door, starting...now.”
I pull out the keypad bypass device Xander provided, attaching it to the electronic lock. The little screen flickers as it cycles through combinations.
“Come on, come on,” I mutter.
“Performance anxiety?” Lazlo whispers. “Happens to the best of us. Well, not me, but—”
“Shut up,” Jiya and I say in unison.
The device beeps, and the door clicks open.
“We’re in,” I whisper, pulling the door wide.
“Forty-five seconds,” Xander reminds us.
We slip inside, finding ourselves in a dim service corridor. The emergency lights cast everything in an eerie green glow.
“Stairs at the end of the hall,” Xander directs. “Hurry. Thirty seconds before the alarm resets.”
We run down the corridor, our footsteps muffled by the industrial carpet. The stairwell door looms ahead, another keypad beside it.
“Shit,” I mutter, reaching for the bypass device again.
“No time,” Jiya says, pushing past me. She pulls something from her pocket—a small vial—and dumps its contents onto the keypad. The liquid sizzles as it makes contact with the metal.
“What the hell?” I stare as the keypad short-circuits, the door clicking open.
“Hydrochloric acid,” she says. “Sometimes the old ways are best.”
“Old ways? How many times have you done this before?” My eyes widen.
“Ten seconds,” Xander warns.
We rush through the door just as Xander announces, “Alarm reset. You’re on your own until you reach room 312.”
The stairwell is silent except for our breathing as we climb to the third floor. Lazlo can’t resist narrating his discomfort.
“This is exacerbating my traumatic injury,” he whispers. “I can feel my white blood cell count rising in real time.”
“Can you feel my patience decreasing in real time, too?” I ask.
We reach the third-floor landing and pause at the door. I press my ear against it, listening for any movement beyond. Hearing nothing, I ease it open and peek through the crack.
The hallway is empty, lit only by the glow of exit signs and the ambient light from the city through the windows. Room 312 is halfway down the corridor, its number plate dimly visible.
“Clear,” I whisper, and we move into the hallway, staying close to the wall.
A beam of light sweeps across the far end of the corridor.
“Shit!” I hiss, pushing Jiya and Lazlo back against the wall. “Guard’s here.”
“What do we do?” Jiya asks, her voice steady despite the danger.
“Decoy,” Lazlo says, pulling something from his medical bag. He tosses a small object down the hallway in the opposite direction from room 312. It clatters loudly against the floor.
The guard’s flashlight swings toward the sound. “Who’s there?” a deep voice calls.
“Follow me,” I mouth, guiding us into the nearest room—a supply closet filled with cleaning supplies. We squeeze inside, the space barely big enough for the three of us. Lazlo’s elbow digs into my ribs, and Jiya is pressed entirely against my front.
“What was that?” Jiya whispers.
“My lucky quarter,” Lazlo answers. “Heads up; it was my only one.”
Through the crack in the door, we watch as the guard investigates the noise, his flashlight beam scanning the empty hallway.
“Xander,” I whisper into my comms. “We need a distraction.”
“On it,” he replies. Seconds later, an alarm blares from the opposite end of the building.
The guard curses, his radio crackling to life. “Johnson, what’s happening?” a voice demands.
“Fire alarm in the east wing,” the guard responds. “Checking it now.”
He hurries away, his footsteps fading as he heads toward the disturbance.
“Nice work,” I tell Xander.
“Thank you. Now move your asses,” he replies. “That’ll keep him busy for about three minutes.”
We slip out of the closet and rush to room 312. The door has another keypad lock, but this time I’m prepared. I pull out a device that looks like a credit card reader and attach it to the keypad.
“What’s that?” Jiya asks.
“RFID duplicator,” I explain. “Copies the last key card that accessed the door.”
The device beeps, and the door unlocks with a click.
We enter a small room filled with computer servers and filing cabinets. At the far end stands a large metal cabinet with a combination lock.
“That’s it,” I say, moving toward the cabinet. “Xander, what do we know about the lock?”
“Standard three-digit combination,” he replies. “But I couldn’t find the code.”
I inspect the lock, then pull a stethoscope from my pocket.
“Are you serious?” Jiya asks, eyebrows raised.
“What? It works in the movies,” I defend, placing the diaphragm against the lock and beginning to turn the dial slowly.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Lazlo mutters, pushing me aside. He pulls out a small container from his medical bag and extracts what looks like silly putty. “This is thermate. Stand back.”
“Whoa, whoa!” I grab his wrist. “We can’t blow up the cabinet!”
“It’s a controlled burn, not an explosion,” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’ll melt through the lock without damaging the contents. Mostly.”
“Mostly?” Jiya echoes.
“Give me thirty seconds with the stethoscope,” I insist.
“The guard will be back any minute,” Lazlo argues.
“Let me try something,” Jiya interrupts, pushing past both of us. She examines the lock for a moment, then tries a simple combination: 1-2-3.
The lock clicks open.
We stare at her in disbelief.
“What?” she shrugs. “People are lazy.”
Inside the cabinet are rows of labeled tapes, organized by date. I locate the section from Elisha’s building and start grabbing everything.
“Got them,” I announce, stuffing the tapes into my backpack.
“Guys,” Xander’s voice crackles in our ears. “The guard’s returning to your floor. Get out now.”
We freeze as footsteps approach in the hallway. The guard is right outside the door.
“Hide!” I whisper-shout.
Jiya ducks behind a server rack while I pull Lazlo behind the open door. We hold our breath as the door handle turns.
The guard steps into the room, his flashlight beam sweeping across the space. He pauses, noticing the open cabinet.
“What the—” he begins, reaching for his radio.
Before he can raise it to his mouth, Lazlo steps out from behind the door and sprays something in the guard’s face. The man crumples to the floor unconscious.
“What was that?” I demand.
“Propofol,” Lazlo says, returning the spray bottle to his bag. “Fast-acting sedative. He’ll wake up in about fifteen minutes with a headache and zero memory of the last five minutes.”
“You just happened to have that?” Jiya asks, emerging from her hiding spot.
“I’m a paramedic,” Lazlo says. “It’s perfectly normal to carry around controlled substances.”
“It’s really not,” I mutter, stepping over the guard’s prone form. “Let’s go before someone else shows up.”
We hurry back to the stairwell, the backpack of tapes secure on my shoulders. As we descend the stairs, Lazlo stumbles, clutching his side.
“You okay?” Jiya asks, surprising me with her concern.
“Fine,” he grimaces. “Just reopened my stab wound. No big deal. Might need a transfusion later. I’m O negative, by the way. The universal donor. Very rare.”
“Is he always like this?” Jiya asks me.
“Yep,” I confirm.
We reach the service door and pause. “Xander, we’re at the exit. Any activity outside?”
“All clear,” he responds. “Meet you at the rendezvous point.”
I push open the door, and we step into the cool night air. Freedom is just a parking lot away.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Jiya says, her eyes bright with adrenaline above her mask.
“Speak for yourself,” Lazlo mutters, still holding his side. “I’m bleeding internally. Probably.”
“You’re not bleeding internally,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“How would you know? Are you a doctor?” he challenges.
“No, but I’ve made enough people bleed to know what it looks like,” I retort.
Jiya laughs, the sound muffled by her mask but still musical enough to make my heart skip. Here we are, three killers on the run from a crime scene, and I’m falling even deeper in love.