Chapter Twenty-Eight Apologies Shouldn’t Be a Struggle
Adelina
Present Day
Nice, France
We haven’t really spoken much, not that I can blame him.
It’s been four days since I heavily implied West might be a traitor.
He doesn’t seem angry, but that makes me more nervous than it probably should.
If I were in his shoes, I’d be livid. If only he’d snap at me.
Yell. Then the anxious bubble in my chest might finally burst and give me some sense of relief.
I’m more comfortable navigating through a person’s anger than I am their indifference.
I can tell I’ve hurt him, and that doesn’t sit well with me.
The right thing to do would be to apologize… I just don’t know how.
West and Joseph continue to build up the course based off the new dimensions Allistair has provided us.
He texted to say he’ll try to get footage of downstairs today.
I hope he pulls it off. Berruci’s bunker is the most vital location with regards to our plans, and it’s the only blind spot we haven’t managed to cover.
Eager for something to do, I pull up my code editor and go through my virus line by line. She’s almost complete, and I’m 99.9 percent sure that it will work exactly as intended on the day.
It’s that last 0.1 percent that worries me.
There’s always a chance I’ve missed something.
A dropped value, a duplicated bracket, an errant decimal.
Or maybe some redundant line of junk that ultimately causes the whole thing to crash.
I’m a weaver, diligently trying to find and correct missed warps and knotted wefts.
It has to be perfect. And that isn’t just my A-type personality talking.
If I can’t do my part, this whole thing will have been for nothing.
“Hungry?”
I jump in my seat, whipping around to find West standing there with two takeout containers. I was so engrossed in my work that I didn’t hear him approach. Is it stupid how much I missed his face? And his voice. And the way my stupid heart skips when he looks my way.
“Where’d this come from?” I ask.
“Diana ordered something for us to eat.”
I frown. “And had it delivered here?”
West chuckles. “Of course not. Joseph went with her to pick it up. They just got back.”
I check the time on the computer. An hour flew by and I barely even noticed.
“Thank you,” I say, taking the food from him.
He sits down beside me as I pull open the container’s lid and am greeted by the rich garlic aroma of the dish’s red sauce. It’s a pasta, topped with seared scallops and juicy pink prawns. My stomach growls with a vengeance.
“Diana’s spoiling us,” I murmur.
“A well-fed crew is an efficient crew,” West replies, digging into his meal.
We eat in silence.
And it gets to me almost immediately.
“West, look…I’m really—”
“All’s forgiven.”
I don’t know if I want to laugh or frown. “You didn’t let me finish.”
“No need.”
“So you’re not angry with me?”
“I was…upset, but for only a little bit.” He offers me a gentle smile. “I understand, Adelina. Really, I do.”
“Then why have you been so quiet?”
“Didn’t think you’d notice.”
“You’re the most talkative guy on the planet. How could I not?”
“You seemed agitated. I wanted to give you space.”
“I don’t want space from you,” I blurt out. My face turns red, my eyes widening in horrified realization that I just said that out loud.
West leans against my workstation, wearing that stupid smug smile of his. “Is that so?”
“That’s not—I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Like what?” he teases. “Goodness, Ms. Choi. Could it be that you’re fond of me?”
Warmth blooms in my chest, sending an electric thrill crackling up my spine. “You’re…not so bad.”
“Coming from you, that’s the highest of compliments.”
“Shut up and eat.”
He laughs and I feel…better. Good. Certainly lighter than I was a second ago. West is so wonderfully (and frustratingly) easy to talk to. I’m so used to people lording my missteps over my head that his easy acceptance, his quickness to forgive, is a welcome breath of fresh air.
My computer screen flashes, an incoming video feed beaming in.
On screen, we’re treated to a first-person POV as Allistair makes his usual rounds.
It takes him twenty minutes to complete a full loop before finally arriving at the stairs.
There are guards everywhere, potential land mines scattered throughout the villa.
My palms are sweaty. It’s like watching someone trapped in a fish tank full of piranhas.
If he does anything to draw their attention, it’ll be an absolute feeding frenzy.
It looks like the coast might be clear. He descends the stairs and makes it down into the bunker, providing a new vantage point I can use to feed the reconstruction software.
Stretching from the base of the stairs is a long, narrow hall with white walls and polished tile floors.
The ceiling is lined with fluorescent panels, lending to the sterile atmosphere.
At the very end of the hall is a thick door, sealed shut on heavy hinges.
Drilled into the adjacent doorframe is some sort of electronic panel.
I hold my breath when someone opens the door from the other side, fearing Allistair might be caught.
He books it back up the stairs, but not before my program is able to capture several key frames of the interior, the algorithm estimating the dimensions of the room.
It’s the finer, slightly blurry details in the image that make my stomach roll.
“Holy shit,” I mutter under my breath.
It’s an armory, a storage unit and a server command center all rolled into one. I can see the main computer in question hooked up to a grid of large screens running everything from stock market analysis to bank statements.
“This place looks like it could withstand a raid,” West grumbles. “Maybe he built it because he was starting to feel the heat from the feds.”
“You’re going to go in there?” I ask, incredulous. “If anything goes wrong, you’ll be pinned down.”
“It’s the only way. Can you zoom in?” West asks. “You know, enhance the image or something like they do on NCIS.”
“I hate that show. That’s not how any of that works.”
“It isn’t?”
“You can’t enhance pixels that aren’t there.”
“Well, damn.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Allistair says that the lock relies on a key card, but the codes change after every use.”
“Not a problem. I know how to spoof it.”
“Really?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” I lean back in my seat and sigh. “At least we know it’s a straight shot to the servers. And it doesn’t look like there are pressured floor panels or lasers that could set off an alarm.”
He leans forward, staring at the screen. “From what Allistair’s shown us, the guards are incredibly punctual, but there’s a five-minute gap in their rotation.”
I nod. “That matches up with our notes.”
“Then that’s our window.”
“You really think you can do this?”
“I can do anything I set my mind to, sugar.” West pumps his eyebrows suggestively at me, and I offer him an unimpressed look.
“Call me that again and I’m going home,” I say, rising from my seat.
“Alright, alright.” He throws his head back and laughs. “I know exactly what we can do.”
“Tell me.”
“Mon tournesol, no heist is carried out without practice.”