She doted over the girl, like a concerned parent, even though both young women shared a similar upbringing, trained as soldiers in a secret program. Stolen from their villages in Mexico, they were raised together, undergoing a strict training regimen that molded them to be the perfect agents of espionage.
“Why are you helping this idiot again?” Leticia asked. “We’ve still got issues here to take care of.”
“It’s just for a day or two. Not too long.”
“I thought you didn’t even like working with this guy,” Leticia said.
“I’m not doing it for him,” Millie said. “We need more info for our own investigation, and this Parker guy sounds like he has a lot of data that could help us out.”
“Fine. But I’m only eating pizza while you’re gone,” Leticia said.
Millie tousled the younger girl’s hair. “Stay out of trouble. I’m not kidding.”
“You’re not my mother,” she fired back.
“Millie. It’s been a while,” Ty said. “And you’re Alicia, right?”
“Leticia.” The shorter woman put her hands on her hips and shot daggers at Ty with her eyes.
“It’s ok,” Millie said. “Go back inside. I’ll call you later.”
They hugged briefly, and Millie opened the back door to toss her bag in. She sat in the passenger seat and buckled up.
“Can you turn that down?” she asked, pointing to the stereo.
“Sorry,” Ty said, dropping the volume to a more respectable level.
“So you and Leticia. Are you two, uh?” Ty raised his eyebrows and drew circles in the air with his index finger.
“You’re still a moron, I see,” Millie said.
“Alright, I’m sorry I don’t mean to pry. We’ve got plenty of time to talk about it on the drive to Pennsylvania.”
“Can you turn that up?” Millie asked, pointing to the stereo.
* * *
Chicago, Illinois
“Sir, there’s a call for you,” a woman said, standing in the doorway of the office gym.
Faust pumped out two more bicep curls and stood, dropping the dumbbell to the ground. The 45-pound weight rang out as it struck the hard rubber mat. He snatched the towel on the bench and dabbed the sweat off his face as he walked to the phone.
“What is it?”
“Mr. Kingston, this is Captain Hawke.”
“Perfect, you’re already in town. When do you plan on taking care of the first situation?” Faust asked, wiping his mouth and neck with the towel.
“That’s what I’m calling you for, sir. We are en route to rendezvous with your security team at the office complex.”
“Excellent. Keep me informed of your status when you complete the task,” Faust said.
“Understood.”
Smiling, Faust hung the handset back on the base. Nothing could match the satisfaction of working with professionals, when dealing with an important task.
He draped the towel on the weight rack before chugging ice water from his water bottle. With his thirst quenched, Faust picked the dumbbell up and settled onto the bench, starting another set of curls.
CHAPTER
17
Lansing, Michigan
John parked the truck on the side street at the building. Chance stepped out onto the sidewalk buttoning up his jacket.
“What do you think the odds are of finding Blythe here?’” Chance asked.
“Not sure,” John said. “Faust could have had him taken from—”
Something in the bed of the truck thumped. John and Chance spun around, pistols drawn.
“Whoa, whoa. It’s me,” Roland said, climbing out from under a tarp in the bed of the F250.
“What the hell are you doing here?” John hissed, holstering his handgun. “I told you to stay with Parker.”
“He’s fine without me,” Roland said. “No one is going to storm that fortress.”
“It was for your safety, not his,” Chance said.
“I can take care of myself. I don’t need some hacker babysitting me.”
“Generally speaking, waltzing into a place where armed men could be looking for you isn’t really considered taking care of yourself,” Chance said.
“Look, I’m here now, and it’s too late to drive me all the way back.” Roland rocked his body side to side and twisted his neck to work the kinks out.
“Wanna bet?” Chance grabbed Roland’s sleeve.
“He’s right,” John said. “We can’t risk letting Blythe get away. You wait in the truck, Roland.”
“What? No way, Stone. If assassins are wandering around looking for me, the safest place is right next to you two,” Roland said. “I’m unarmed.”
Chance looked at John, giving him an exasperated shrug and shake of his head.
“Fine. But stay close to us,” John said.
“Awesome! Let’s just hope Blythe is here,” Roland said. “I’d hate to think I took that uncomfortable trip for nothing.”
“That’s on you,” Chance said.
They walked through the main entrance, and a man in front greeted them. He wore a drab gray suit and a forgettable haircut with a matching unremarkable smile.
“I apologize, gentlemen. The interviews have been canceled,” he said. “All of the positions have been filled.”
“That’s not why we’re here,” Chance said, pulling his badge from a pocket. “Detective Hunter, Detroit Police Department.”
“Oh. How can I help you, detective?”
“We’re looking for some information for a case. If your people could cooperate, that would be very helpful,” Chance said.
The expression on the man’s face twitched, distorting for a second before returning to his generic greeting. His body language and tone practically shouted that he was hiding something.
Chance continued talking to the man as John stepped away. He looked across the lobby where a group of employees gathered bags and boxes, taking them to a side room. John took a step forward.
The man moved to intercept. “I’m afraid no one is allowed inside today.”
John looked down at him, then back up to the group in the distance. He saw a man step off the elevator and cross the hallway, out of sight. John recognized the MP5 submachine gun strapped to his back.
“They’re already here,” John said.
He put a hand on the man’s shoulder and eased him to the side, moving toward the small crowd of employees. Roland followed close behind, stepping around the other way.
“You’re not allowed in here,” the man said. “I’ll have to call security to escort your friends out.”
“No need,” Chance said, stepping around him. “I’ll just go and get them. I’m sure it’s just a little misunderstanding.”
* * *
Reading, Pennsylvania
Millie jabbed at the volume knob to mute the music as Ty rounded the corner at close to the speed limit, approaching the address Parker provided.
“Hey,” Ty said, stunned that she had the gall to touch his stereo.
“Can you at least make an attempt to blend in a little?” Millie glared at him. “Maybe try not to draw so much attention to yourself.”
Ty smirked. “Sorry. Someone has to make up for your drab style.” He looked at her clothing reached over to flip the end of one of her short locks of hair, just above the shoulder.
“Don’t do that again. Unless you can shift gears with a broken wrist,” Millie said.
“Alright, alright,” Ty said, holding his hands up at his shoulders.
“Stop the car. I’ll approach on foot,” she said. “Wait for me here, and try to keep out of sight.”
“Yes, your majesty,” Ty said, with a seated mock bow.
She retrieved her backpack from the back seat, emptying most of the contents to make room. Tucking an arm in one of the straps, she kept her eyes straight ahead, only taking in sideways glances at the target building as she moved along the sidewalk.
The activity in fron
t of the building stood out, as people milled about, some stepping inside, only to be ushered back. Most wore suits and ties, but a few had on casual attire. Millie had no problem slipping into the group from the outskirts and working her way to the front door.
She read their body language, and the way they interacted with each other. Like many office environments, most of the people didn’t know anyone else outside of their small cliques. Everyone outside seemed on edge, though. A group of stern men and women in dark suits stood at the entrance, and tightly controlled which of the confused people could enter the building.
Bouncing from one group to the next, she used the stragglers as cover, adjusting her posture and facial expressions to fit in. Another group moved up, trying to get answers from the security type personnel. They were on the verge of losing their tempers, just shy of shouting as Millie’s group entered the building.
Once inside, she slid to the edge and stepped out into the lobby. More employees wandered around here too. Some carrying boxes of personal belongings, while others stood at the receptionist desk, looking for answers at the long-abandoned workstation.
This was a mass layoff, and the scene had created plenty of chaos. Perfect cover for Millie to accomplish her task.
Security personnel directed visibly upset workers to and from their desks, helping as they boxed up anything they wanted to bring home. Millie melted into the group of people waiting their turn.
A round man wearing a dark blue uniform, with the CARR Group logo emblazoned on his sleeve, waved them forward. She stood shoulder to shoulder with the others as they followed down the hall into the open workspace. She slowed her pace enough to let the others pass, fading to the back of the crowd.
As they reached an intersection in the halls, Millie fell behind, and changed directions, covering the distance to the corner in several soft steps, pivoting around the wall. She looked at the pair of doors on either side, choosing one.
Testing the handle, she turned it slowly, feeling the latch move freely as the door swung inward. She stepped through, easing the door shut behind her. Her quick scan let Millie assess the room, finding a couple of filing cabinets and a desk empty of clutter.
She pulled the first drawer on the nearest filing cabinet, frowning as it offered up resistance. Millie tucked her index and ring fingers into her back pocket, retrieving the small set of lock picking tools.
Applying slight twisting pressure with a flat bar in the lock, she slid the raking tool in and out with two quick sharp movements. The tumbler spun, surrendering to her prowess. She dug through the contents, finding nothing that would help Parker out.
She continued, picking the locks for each drawer in each filing cabinet in turn. Her search had been fruitless. I need to find the executive offices, she thought, peeking back out into the hall.
CHAPTER
18
Lansing, Michigan
A group of men and women with cartons of files parted as John stepped into their path. None of them spared him a second glance as they rushed to drop the boxes into the corner. Roland and Chance reached John as they walked down the hall. Roland stopped one of the women as she passed.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
“They’re laying everyone off,” she said, sadness in her eyes, slowly succumbing to anger. “They told us to bring everything we’ve worked on in the past year and stash it there.” She pointed to the piles of boxes in the corner.
Roland nodded and let her pass. “Looks like we found the right place,” he said.
“But did we get here in time?” Chance asked.
John slowed at the corner where he saw the armed guard walk by. A pair of men in off the rack suits brushed past them, barely mumbling an apology as they emerged.
Holding his hand out to signal Chance and Roland, John adjusted his stance, preparing for someone approaching. Shuffle-click shuffle-click the guard’s feet dragged as he turned the corner, shoulders sagged, and thumbs tucked into his belt.
The guard’s eyes bugged out of his head, as John put a hand on his chest and pushed him against the wall. He held a finger to his lips, telling the uniformed man to be quiet as he ushered him down the hall from where he had just come.
Chance fell in behind them as Roland planted himself at the corner for a moment, looking around to make sure no one had seen the commotion. All of the employees were preoccupied with their own problems, missing everything happening around them.
* * *
Reading, Pennsylvania
Millie heard another group approaching, and saw a guard leading them as they walked by. The employees followed, heads down, feet shuffling. All hope lost. Millie slipped into the group, and in an instant, was moving with the same dejected posture.
She kept her head on a swivel, trying to see as much as she could, as they walked the halls. Millie spotted a guard heading for a stairwell. Of course. The good stuff has gotta be on the second floor. The man pulled a key card hanging on his belt, swiping the plastic badge in front of the card reader.
The guard escorting them pulled the radio from his belt. “Another group headed your way,” he said.
As they reached a set of double doors, the man stopped, but Millie continued forward, bumping into him. She looked up, eyes wide in horror. She apologized profusely, as if he was about to arrest her.
The man’s annoyance was palpable as he mumbled some kind of warning, making sure his last words could be heard by everyone else in the group.
“Just watch where you’re going, alright?”
Millie nodded, pursing her lips and looking down at his feet again.
The guard fumbled for his keys, unlocking the doors and letting the crowd through. Another guard waited to escort this group inside as the first closed the doors behind them, the metallic clack bidding them farewell.
The employees had dispersed, finding their cubicles in the maze of workstations. Millie walked with the rapidly thinning herd until everyone reached their destination. She ducked behind one of the cubicles, sneaking into a conference room.
The glass walls wouldn’t provide any cover, so she crawled under the table, using the chairs to obscure the view from the outside. Millie scanned the area around her through the glass, taking in as much as she could through the gaps between chairs.
At the far end of the workspace, she spotted another stairwell door. She didn’t have much time before the rest of the employees had their possessions all boxed up. She kept her body low, taking long strides with her legs while supporting her weight on her hands.
At the stairwell entrance, Millie pulled the key card tucked into her waistband, after having lifted it from the guard when she intentionally bumped into him. She swiped it across the reader, watching as the box let out a happy chirp. The light flashed green, and she eased the door open just enough to slide in.
Careful of her foot placement, Millie ascended the steps to the second floor in silence. At the next level, she checked if the hall was clear before heading in. She kept her body close to one wall as she moved. Millie knew at least one of the security guards had already come up here.
The hall opened up into a broad community area with a few printers and copying machines, still whirring and ready to get to work. Along one wall, several doors led to the executive offices. Bingo.
Millie chose the largest office with the most impressive abbreviated title on the placard, testing the knob first. Locked. No surprise. She fished the tools from her back pocket and inserted the torsion wrench into the keyhole, getting to work.
Seconds later the lock rewarded her with a click as it twisted free of the pins. She moved inside and started her search. Like the office downstairs, this one had a couple of filing cabinets. Their locks proved equally ineffective. They contained more than a few files worth looking into, but nothing that Parker could use.
Moving to the computer on the tempered glass desk, Millie sat and pulled up the login screen. I don’t have time to crack this, she thought, power
ing the machine down and pulling the side panel of the workstation open.
She grabbed a multitool from her backpack and pulled the hard drive from the computer, tucking it into her bag. Not like they’ll be getting back to work anytime soon.
Jingling keys snapped her senses into full alert. Someone opened the office at the other end. A few seconds later, he shut the door and locked it again. Millie looked around for a hiding place. She couldn’t stay under the desk with its open sides and all glass top.
The next door opened. Her eyes whipped around the room, spotting the small bookcase near the door. The guard locked up the office before moving to this one. Millie sprung into action, bolting toward the door. She vaulted off the bookcase as the keys scraped along the pins in the lock.
The door handle twisted as she braced her body above the entrance, one foot and one hand pushing against opposing walls in the small recess. The outer edge of her other foot settled on the frame as the door opened.
The man stuck his head inside, visually inspecting the interior. Millie drew in a long slow breath through her nose. After a five count, she exhaled, just as slowly. Satisfied, the guard grunted and shut the door, locking it again as he continued his rounds.
Millie dropped to the floor, landing quietly, absorbing the impact with her joints. Too close.
CHAPTER
19
Lansing, Michigan
“Open the door,” John said to the guard as he passed the man’s MP5 and spare mag to Roland.
The Hard Core Page 7
