Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
Barrett
The building housing the environmental charity has more security than one would imagine. It’s that extra layer of security that says we’re on the right track. But bypassing it won’t be a problem.
After putting Sage in the bath, with orders for her to go to bed when she was done and telling her that I would be gone all night, I came straight here and got inside the building before the last person left for the night.
The charity isn’t one that needs a lot of space.
Their offices are in a shared building and take up the top floor.
I had Corvin check out the cameras earlier today.
The only ones I have to worry about inside are on the top floor, and the Wi-Fi jammer in my pocket will deal with those.
Being on the top floor, the charity relies more on the security of the rest of the building rather than having anything more than Wi-Fi cameras for their own offices.
My thoughts constantly drift back to Sage. I don’t know what to do. For the first time in years, I’m uncertain of my next move. With every decision since my first kill, job related or not, I’ve never questioned my instincts, but the way I feel for Sage throws all of that out the window.
I want to keep her, but more importantly, I want her to want to be kept.
With pleasure and safety, she falls to her knees so prettily and opens herself to me.
But she lives an independent life she’s unwilling to sacrifice, and believes she’ll have to in order to belong to me.
I haven’t given her any reason to believe otherwise.
The elevator dings, stopping at the floor below my destination. I’m silent as I make my way down the hall to the stairwell. There’s no way to know if anyone has stayed to work late in the bookkeeping offices on this level. None of which are connected with the environmental charity or Campbell.
Climbing the stairs, I’m free to slip onto the top floor without worry of detection, but I only have a few minutes to get out. We want minimal disruption to the cameras so as to not cause concern. Although, it’s likely they rarely check the feed.
There are only two computers I need to hack into, the accountant’s and the chair’s.
The accountant is the head of this portion of Campbell’s organizations, but the chair is being paid off to stay silent, allowing it to happen, and thoroughly enjoying the perks.
The accountant is the only assassination target here though.
The goal is to take out just enough that the entire branch crumbles while trying to scramble before getting caught.
Snick. The chair’s office door opens and his computer is still on, spinning colourful circles on the screen saver lighting the dark room.
Plugging the flash drive into the computer, I leave it to do its job while breaking into the accountant’s office.
We aren’t looking for records. We aren’t the ones that need proof.
The code on the drives will get us into their calendars and emails with the goal of finding the best opportunity to take them out.
This entire plan to take out Campbell proves we take Corvin for granted.
Years of working with him has made these parts of our jobs streamlined.
The messy assassinations are fewer and farther between when we have full access to the target’s life.
Although those messy assassinations hold a certain appeal I can’t let go of.
I believe the same holds true for Rafe and Fain.
I have everything I need, their schedules linking to my phone as I hurry down the stairs, taking them all the way to the ground floor.
My next stop for the night is one of the shelters.
We each have our goals and one shelter to stake out tonight.
Finding the spotters who are reporting back to Campbell the easy targets for trafficking won’t be as easy a task, but they are the ones we want gone, whether they are volunteers or organizers, it doesn’t matter.
Killing them sends the message and crumbles this branch.
Shelters are more active through the night than most realize. Of course, they have their quiet nights that I’m sure volunteers appreciate, but many are like the scene I’m experiencing now.
A handful of guests surround a table, playing cards, while warily watching the others in the room. They’re scared to go to sleep, the fear bleeding from their eyes. I wouldn’t classify any shelter as a safe space, although some are better than others.
My eyes roam the main gathering room for the volunteers, for anyone who might be studying each guest a little more than necessary. I don’t see any.
Most of the other guests are sitting alone, but one group is huddled together, speaking low.
Dressed in a baggy sweater and old jeans, I sit in a corner away from everyone with my hood shading my eyes. For half an hour, no one moves and no night shift volunteers appear from wherever they’re passing the time.
Just as I’m ready to search the building, the front door bursts open and a lanky man stumbles through the door to lands face first not five feet inside.
Everyone stares in silence for a moment until one man from the card table jumps up and runs off, disappearing down a hall at the back of the room. When he returns, three others follow him, one with a phone to his ear asking for an ambulance.
I’m tempted to leave—it’s only going to be chaos here for the rest of the night—but as people start to trickle into the room with the commotion, I realize it’s an opportunity to observe.
And it’s one of the volunteers whose attention snaps to the incoming melee. He breaks off from the huddled group, narrowing his gaze on two women that come in with arms linked. He pulls out a phone and sends a text.
Discreetly pulling out my phone, I take a picture of him and immediately send it to Corvin. But that text he sent and the way he keeps his eyes on the two women has me on edge.
I get up to leave, making my way past the two women. Their shoulders hunch and they stiffen as I near. Reaching over, I slip my hand into the pocket of one of their sweaters, leaving behind five hundred dollars cash.
“Leave now and get a hotel for the night.” I pitch my voice low and the chaos helps as cover.
“Any hotel with several floors. There’s someone watching you right now.
That should be enough for a night or two and a good meal.
” I’d rather pull them out of here myself and set them up, but trusting a stranger like me with that kind of promise is what might get them into trouble later on.
The two women share a look. The one on the left sticks her hand in her pocket, her eyes widening at her friend.
“Go on,” I urge, and wait until they leave the building. My job is done for the night, but I want to see what happens to the guy that sent the text. Not only to ensure I have the right guy, but to get the faces of who shows up to collect the targets.
That only takes ten minutes.
And when they don’t find the women, they take the guy out to the alley. I have their pictures, already sent to Corvin. I don’t need to follow anymore to find out what happens.
I get to go home, back to Sage. And think of a way to keep her away from Dorian Campbell.