12. Cain #2
“Yeah, we’re going to need to be smart about it.
” I scrub my hand over my mouth, thinking.
“There must be people coming and going all the time. With this many staff onboard, they’ll have doctors and therapists, janitors and receptionists.
I highly doubt they live onsite, so they must open the gates to get in and out.
That’ll be a time of weakness in their security. ”
Roman takes the phone from me to study the documents further.
“If the gates are opening and closing,” he says, “and people are in and out of the doors on various shifts, the patients probably don’t have free roam of the place, which means it won’t just be getting into the building that we have to worry about.
We’re going to need to get into wherever they’re holding Ophelia, too.
” He shakes his head. “It’s not going to be easy.
I imagine they have different levels of security for the various areas, and we have no idea which she’s in. ”
“Then we’ll have to find her,” Mal adds. “Maybe we should get our hands on some weapons and come back. If we go in there armed, no one is going to fuck with us.”
I shake my head. “It won’t work. The minute they see a gun, the whole place will go into lockdown. With this number of staff, someone will hit a panic button, and then the cops will be on us. We risk not only getting ourselves locked up, but also losing Ophelia for good.”
The possibility weighs heavily between us.
Malachi lifts his chin. “Look, someone’s going in.”
A man in his thirties, dressed entirely in white medical scrubs, stops in front of the gates. He has a lanyard around his neck, which he places against a sensor embedded in the wall. He steps back, and a moment later, the gates slowly open.
“That’s what we need,” Roman says. “One of those passes that guy is wearing.”
Malachi snatches the phone from Roman and scrolls down the staffing schedule.
“Look at the number of people who work here. Do you think they all know each other? Like, if someone happened to be on site who looked like they worked there, but maybe people didn’t recognize him, would it raise any red flags? ”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What are you thinking? That we try to pass ourselves off as staff?”
“Maybe not all of us. That’ll get noticed. But one of us, yeah. The one who is least likely to cause suspicion.”
Mal and I both look straight at Roman. Out of the three of us, he’s definitely the one whose appearance is most socially acceptable.
There’s no way Malachi can do it, with his jet-black hair, tattoos, black nails and eyeliner—though that’s barely visible today—and my size makes me instantly noticeable.
I’m sure Rome will still get noticed, especially with the female staff members, and maybe some of the males.
That tall Nordic combination of blond hair and green eyes always begs attention, but not in a bad way.
Roman bites the inside of his lip, thinking. “If they’ve got someone on reception, they’ll probably want me to sign in or something. I’m not just going to be able to walk right past them.”
“Do they have a receptionist?” Mal asks. “I presume they do for visitors.”
I look at the staffing schedule, and yes, they do. “It’s a woman called Janice Delray.”
Mal laughs. I give him a puzzled look, but he grins at me. “Okay, so we need a distraction.” Malachi winks. “Let’s assume Ms. Delray is as awestruck by you as most of the female population. I bet you can distract her.”
I cock an eyebrow in his direction. “So, I’m supposed to just waltz straight in there?”
He shrugs. “We’ll think of something. But first, we need to find someone Rome can borrow the identification of to gain entry.”
I blow out a breath and shake my head. “Mal, you’re acting as if this is going to be a cakewalk.” I’m worried he’s not thinking this through enough. We can’t risk making a mistake.
“It won’t be, but it is doable. Does the information tell us how long the people on the schedule have been working there?”
I frown. “No, it doesn’t give that kind of info.”
Roman shrugs. “Another call to Saint?”
Oh, fuck my life . “For real?”
“She’s worth speaking to that French asshole for, surely.” Mal chuckles.
I swear to God, the fucker is enjoying this. It seems all we had to do to cheer Mal up was give him a quest. The noble bastard.
Sighing, I pick up my phone and press redial.
“ Oui . You better be calling to say merci. ”
“Yeah, I am, thanks,” I grit out. “But also, can you do one more thing for us?”
“ Merde, I’m trying to paint a lovely portrait of you, Cain, and you keep interrupting my flow. I have you with an apple on your head, like William Tell, except sadly, the arrow has missed and is right between your eyes. Such a shame.”
I hear a low chuckle in the background and bet it’s his fucked-up twin. The pair of them are insane. They should be in that place, not Ophelia. I bite down my every natural response and simply let out a soft, good-natured laugh.
“You’ll have to show it to me when we get back. Listen, can you do this one last thing for us?”
“Make it quick,” he snaps.
“Is there any way you can take a look and see if any of the staff are new?”
There’s a beat of silence. “ Non .”
My heart sinks.
“This is not easy. It will take a long time. I will have to look into each of their personal files. I can’t waste all that time, the paint will dry, and I won’t get your likeness.
But I can probably tell you if there are any temporary workers on staff.
Or temporary workers. That will be on the system. ”
I’m clutching the phone so tightly, I’m amazed it’s not imploded in my hands. “Yeah, that would be good.”
“Give me five.”
He hangs up, and I punch the steering wheel. “Motherfucker.”
“Jesus.” Mal rolls his eyes. “Drama queen.”
I have the feeling he’s not talking about Saint. “You’d be the same if you had to deal with that guy. He’s such an asshole.”
It only takes a couple of minutes before my phone is lighting up again. I put him on speaker this time.
“There are two members of staff who work for an agency,” he says, “and one is due in today. A man called Timothy Smart, in his thirties, five foot eight, and luckily for you, dyed orange hair, so you’ll recognize him easily enough.”
“Thanks, we owe you all.” I hang up before he can come back with anything sarcastic and hope I’m not going to regret saying we owe the Vipers.
“How does that help?” Mal huffs. “We haven’t got orange hair and none of us are anywhere near five-eight.”
“We don’t need to pretend to be him,” Roman points out. “Simply take his ID. I let myself in and say I’m a new member of staff from the agency because Tim is sick.”
“Okay.” Mal claps his hands. “So, we’re a go. Wait for Tim. Accost him. Steal his ID. Tie him up? Yeah, that works. Then Cain creates a distraction at reception, so you can sneak in without getting your ID checked but using it to get through security.”
I huff out a breath. “How do I get in?” They’re not just going to let me walk in there, Mal.”
Are we going to have to mug two people for their ID?
Farther down the street, a panel van with the logo ‘L & M Electricals’ written on the side pulls in. The driver’s door opens, and a man in his forties jumps out. He goes to the back of the van and throws open both rear doors.
“Bingo.” Mal grins.