Chapter Thirty-Five This Is What I Would Call a Pickle
West
“Watches synced?” I ask Joseph, triple-checking the one wrapped around my wrist. “I’ll enter the villa on the hour after the patrol passes. I’ll need you at the pickup point in—”
“I know, old friend,” Joseph says with a chuckle. “You can count on me.”
“The ladies are all set up?”
“They’re in the other rental five clicks that way,” he informs, pointing. “Allistair is working on getting her hooked up to the external cameras, but from that point on, you’re on your own.”
I rub a hand over my chest, hoping to dry my palms. There’s no point in being nervous. This is what everything has been building up to, and I’m as prepared as I’ll ever be.
“Let’s get rich,” I say.
Joseph grins, conspiratorial. “Let’s get rich.”
With one final breath and a moment to steel myself, I turn and start toward the outer perimeter of the villa.
It’s so much more ostentatious than the model we set up at the hangar.
Although it’s the middle of the night, Berruci’s property is illuminated by exterior lights bordering all the stone paths.
To make matters worse, his team of guard dogs have been set loose to run amok in the backyard, blocking me from drawing any closer to my planned point of entry.
No matter. I came prepared courtesy of Allistair’s intel.
I climb over the high garden hedge and land on the manicured lawn with a soft thud.
The dogs notice me almost immediately, their hackles raised as they flash their sharp teeth, low growls coming to a crescendo in the backs of their throats.
With my hands already flying to my pockets, I pull out the bits of dried steak Allistair recommended I pack and toss them their way, praying it will be enough to ingratiate them to my presence.
Short of that, it will buy me a few precious seconds before they maul me to death.
Thankfully, the treats do the trick. I’m able to sidle past toward the west-facing window on the ground floor without a hitch. Allistair has already left it unlocked—all according to plan. I lift the window open and squeeze through. The moment my feet hit the ground, muscle memory locks in.
I sprint down the hall at top speed, the surrounding air screaming past my ears as I take a hairpin turn to the right.
I’m through the west wing in under thirty seconds, dashing through the main foyer like a sudden breeze, no trace of me left behind.
Somewhere up above, I hear voices and heavy footsteps.
No doubt the guards on their rounds on the second floor.
They’ll be sweeping through the main floor soon. All the more reason to haul ass.
Three minutes left. Almost there. I’m cutting it close, but we all knew that would be the case.
I get to the staircase leading down into the bunker, ignoring the cold sweat dripping down my back. The flight has fifteen steps. During practice, I was able to jump the final five. With the clock counting down, I decide to try my luck with six.
Rolling to spread out my momentum, I land with the tiniest twinge in my lower back and crack in my knees.
Not bad for a retiree like me. I might have shaved two seconds, though this is hardly the time to celebrate.
I make a break for the door at the very end of the hall, pulling my phone out to confuse the lock’s RFID—using the very same program Adelina used to break into my hotel room in Vancouver. Extra points for recycling.
The lock beeps, the little indicator light blinking green. I breathe a tight sigh of relief. Oh, Adelina, you beautiful genius.
Ninety seconds remaining.
I push the door open and step into the dark bunker, the thick concrete walls making the air around me both cold and thick.
There is nothing save for the sound of my labored breathing and the electronic whine of a single LCD desktop screen across the room, a computer and its giant server connected to it.
This is it. Every ounce of dirt on Berruci is on that computer. Without a moment’s hesitation, I dash forward and jam the USB into the server’s closest available port.
Thirty seconds. It needs thirty seconds to upload.
The lights snap on, leaving me blind. I stumble forward, feeling around aimlessly as my vision struggles to adjust to the burning brightness. Someone grabs me from behind, locking their arm around my throat. I surge back, driving my elbow into their gut, but they don’t budge. I’ve been caught.
Shit. Fuck.
How the hell did this go downhill so fast?
Our whole plan hinged on a seamless infiltration and extraction to avoid the possibility of a confrontation.
I was supposed to be a ghost, not a fighter.
Brute force was never an option. There’s no way the patrol managed to catch up to me that quickly, and I’d have seen them come through the door.
Whoever this is was lying in wait. They knew I was coming—but how?
A flood of memories threatens to drown me. This is just like last time. But how is that possible? It’s hard to think now that my windpipe is being crushed, and I have no choice but to throw plan A out the window and set it on fire.
It’s time to improvise.
I drive my elbow back again, this time as high as I’m able, in order to catch my assailant in the nose. He staggers back, releasing me from his chokehold. I twist around, getting a good look at him as I throw the meanest left hook I can manage. It’s one of Berruci’s personal guards.
No. No, if he’s here, that means—
I take a hit to the face. Stars splash across my vision.
I suddenly realize that we’re not the only ones in the room.
I count four—maybe even five—of Berruci’s strongest men.
It’s a dogpile. No matter how hard I struggle, I can’t win the upper hand.
My arms are wrenched behind my back and I’m forced to my knees, pinned in place by their weight.
Someone grabs me by the hair and forces me to look up.
My eyes land on Berruci as he yanks the USB out of the computer, glaring at the little device with a sneer. Dammit. Has it been thirty seconds? I wasn’t counting. I have no way of knowing if Adelina’s code injected itself.
He clicks his tongue and moves to stand across the room, behind someone tied to an office chair. Berruci turns it, the wheels squeaking with the movement. Sitting before me is a woman. It takes me a moment to register her face. I think I might be sick.
“Adelina?” I croak.
Except it isn’t her. The woman looks exactly like her, but her sleek black hair is long and flowing. Not Adelina—but her twin. Lily looks unharmed. A little rattled and teary-eyed, but alright on the whole.
“What the hell is going on?” Lily asks, trembling. “Who are you? How do you know my sister?”
“A commendable effort, dear boy,” Berruci says with an air of calm. “And here I thought you would have learned your lesson after your first spectacular failure.”
All I can do is stare at him in disbelief.
Why is he here? How does he know about Lily?
A cold dread filters through my heart. Someone betrayed us, told Berruci about our plans.
It had to have been Allistair. He must have chickened out at the last possible moment and played a triple-cross, setting me up to believe that Berruci was out of the country only to catch me by surprise.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says smugly. “You’re trying to figure out who ratted you out. I’m a little disappointed you didn’t realize sooner.”
This is bad. This is really, really bad. I don’t think there’s anything I can say or do in this moment that will get me out of this situation alive, but I try anyway.
“Let the girl go,” I say. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”
“I know,” he replies. “But her sister does, and I’m very much looking forward to meeting her.”
A terrible pressure pulsates behind my eyes. Berruci knows about Adelina. But how can that be? Allistair was never formally introduced to her, and she never once mentioned her name to Diana or Joseph. My theory crumbles before my very eyes.
Behind me, the security door beeps. Shoes clack against the polished tile, one foot heavier than the other.
I crane my neck to see none other than Joseph, wearing a smile so smug I want to knock it straight off his face.
Following hot on his tail are two patrol guards, Allistair in their custody.
They have his hands handcuffed behind his back, his purpling eye a testament to the fight he put up before his capture.
“How?” I demand, sick to my stomach. “Why?”
“Joseph informed me there was a mole hiding under my roof,” Berruci explained.
“But he didn’t have a name. So I devised a plan to snuff them out.
I told my guards that I’d be making a last-minute trip out of the country, giving a different location to each.
I had no doubt that the snitch would share this window of opportunity with you.
Allistair called you, didn’t he? Told you I’d be flying out to Monaco.
Joseph reported back to me immediately, and that’s how I sniffed him out. ”
I grit my teeth. Damn, that’s…actually really clever. I genuinely didn’t think Berruci was capable of an intelligent thought, let alone such a devilish trick.
“Sorry, old friend,” Joseph says, though he doesn’t sound particularly sorry at all. “Don’t worry. Adelina will be joining us shortly.”
I glare at him. “How did you…”
“You weren’t as careful as you thought. You let her name slip right in front of me and didn’t even notice. All I had to do was use my network—”
“Fuck your network,” I hiss.
“—and see what came up. Since I knew Adelina went to MIT, it was a simple thing to pull up the enrollment lists. Even found an article online with her posing with some robotics team. And then Diana let me know she had a sister. After that, all I had to do was search her up on Instagram. Imagine my delight when I discovered her feed was full of geotagged images a skip away in Barcelona.”