Six flights up, on the main floor, he peered carefully through the window in the exit door, then walked out into the hallway. It was brightly lit, the noise of an active afternoon floating on the air from the main lobby just around the corner. His boots squeaked on the pearly, tiled floor, and he paused. They were soaked from trekking through water. He’d need dry ones.
The employee locker rooms were around the corner to the right and three doors up. He took a deep breath, stepped into the bustling activity of his fellow agents with confidence, smiled at a few, and slipped into the locker room several seconds later.
The men’s locker room was on the left. Inside, muffled conversations echoed as men showered, changed, and chatted. Seeley kept his head down and walked straight through, passing rows of lockers and scattered men on his left, then quickly slipped into a wardrobe room at the back right corner.
He slid off his wet shoes and replaced them with a dry pair, then grabbed a navy windbreaker and black baseball hat. He donned his new items and left the closet. Then he waited, tucked behind the last row of lockers, until the men’s voices drifted toward the showers.
Perfect. Seeley popped his head around to see that the row of lockers that had been occupied was clear. He quickly started searching through them. Many weren’t locked, and on his fifth search he came across a general access key card. That would work. All agents had access to the north side of Xerox. Seeley softly pushed the locker closed and moved out the back exit, which popped him out into another clean, gray hallway aiming north.
Brim covering his eyes, he focused and walked at a steady pace. Suited agents passed him as he covered the length of the walkway and made a left turn into another large lobby. Mapping the building in his head, he moved with the flow of traffic, which was minimal, and made his way toward the security offices. First he needed to figure out where they were holding Lucy, then how to gain access.
The key card allowed him entrance into the security division. The panel dinged for access, and Seeley pushed the door open and moved inside. The offices and rooms here each required specific key cards. He ignored them and headed to the elevator. It took him down a level to his intended target: the break room at the end of the hall. The dismal room was empty. He moved inside, stepped behind the door, and waited. He knew his friend would need his hourly coffee refill soon.
Within ten minutes Barry Waller, a large, heavyset man with graying hair, entered the room and headed for the well-stocked coffee bar along the far wall, his famous Steelers mug in hand.
Seeley shut the door, and Waller turned and gasped.
“Waller,” Seeley said.
Waller had been with the FBI for over thirty years, working in different parts of security and surveillance. He and Seeley had worked together before both came to Xerox only a year apart. They had a long-standing relationship, and Seeley had saved him more than once.
Waller had a reputation for knowing everything that was going on with the Grantham Project. He could see each moving piece in his head like a chess match.
Waller raised his eyebrow, suspicion on his face. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I need your help,” Seeley said.
“If you get caught—”
“I won’t get caught.”
Waller paused and then let out a soft chuckle. “One day that confidence is going to get you killed.”
“Hopefully not today,” Seeley returned.
“You’re here about the girl.” Waller knew him well.
“Do you know where she’s being held?”
“I don’t have clearance for that kind of information.”
It was Seeley who chuckled this time. “That isn’t what I asked.”
Waller held his tongue, and Seeley took a step closer. “You owe me.”
Seeley had saved Waller’s life and then his reputation when they’d worked a job together in London a decade ago. Back before Waller had swapped his vodka addiction for coffee.
Waller sighed. “You should just let this one go, Tom.”
“I can’t, Barry.”
Waller nodded. “They recently moved the package to Vault A on the north side. Security level black. Only Jesus gets in there without clearance.”
Seeley nodded and started toward the exit, calmly saying over his shoulder, “This makes us even.”
Security level black required double key card entry, plus unique entry codes. The Vault would require yet another code, plus fingerprint identification. A plan started to formulate in his head. It would need to be precise and executed without a hitch. And he was going to need to borrow a couple of items.
ZOE HAD STARTED pacing almost immediately after she and McCoy dropped into the storage room from the ceiling. She didn’t know how long it had been since they arrived, but it felt longer than she liked. And there was still no Seeley.
He had betrayed them. The single thought continued to repeat itself inside her brain. McCoy rested against the wall behind her, his calm energy making her own anxiety worse. Seeley had betrayed her, and McCoy was in on it. She was being played for a fool. Again.
They stayed close to the back wall, so if any unexpected guests arrived, they could easily stow away underneath the large metal shelving that lined the room. Not that Zoe thought any would. The large room was used primarily for the storage of old office furniture. Assembled desks and chairs stood around, stacked and collecting dust. It wasn’t the worst place to hide out in a top-secret government facility. Unless you had been directed here by the same man who was now currently betraying you. Then it was the worst.
“Watching you pace is giving me anxiety,” McCoy said. “Relax, he’ll be here.”
Zoe whipped around. “We shouldn’t have trusted him.”
“Have a little faith. He’ll show.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“He’s Tom Seeley, he will.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means if anyone can, it’s him.” McCoy paused. “And if he doesn’t come, we’re toast.”
Zoe looked at him wide-eyed as a sly grin yanked at the corner of his mouth. He chuckled softly to himself. She cursed at him under her breath and was about to say something she wouldn’t be able to take back, when the door across the room creaked.
McCoy was on his feet, yanking Zoe out of sight. She dropped to the ground, her knee colliding with the cement floor hard, but she held her tongue as McCoy ushered her back and under the cover of a shelf.
Steps echoed across the floor, and Zoe saw McCoy hold his finger over his lips. Her heart was pounding so quickly she was certain whoever had just entered the room could hear it. She held her breath and watched as heavy boots came into view a yard or so from where they were crouched.
McCoy risked peering out around one of the shelving’s thick end poles but recoiled when two more sets of boots entered the room. Zoe thought her heart might explode.
“Alright, what’s the deal, Seeley?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
“McCoy was the one who spotted it,” Seeley said. “Hey, McCoy,” he called out, and McCoy gave Zoe a “stay put” look before playing along.
“Over here—stolen contraband,” McCoy said, stepping across the room.
“I thought you said it was a permitted breach,” another unfamiliar voice said.
It took one second of silence before the cards were all out on the table, and Zoe heard the altercation begin. McCoy rushed to aid Seeley as the two other men got smart to what was happening. Zoe tucked her hands over her head and stayed low as she heard flesh pound flesh, metal clank against the ground, huffs and grunts, someone crash against heavy objects, the shattering of wood. And then silence.
A cascade of heavy breathing preceded Seeley’s welcome voice. “Contraband?”
“It was the first thing that came to mind,” McCoy responded.
Zoe untucked herself from where she was hidden and saw Seeley and McCoy standing over two fallen agents, the room in shambles, and a topple
d desk surrounded by splinters of wood.
Seeley looked up at Zoe, and she nearly rushed to him. She pulled up short, remembering who he was, what he had done, and just acknowledged him with a nod. She didn’t want to risk saying anything that might make her sound stupid, or worse, like she was glad to see him.
He looked at McCoy. “Strip them. We’ll secure them out of sight. They should have the security key cards we need.”
McCoy nodded, and the two set to undressing the unconscious agents down to their underclothes and donning their black security uniforms.
Zoe turned to give them privacy and asked, “What about me?”
A moment later McCoy tapped her shoulder, and she turned to see him holding out handcuffs. She shook her head, the paranoia roaring up inside her chest. “No way.”
“You can’t just walk down the hallway with us,” McCoy said.
“This feels like a setup,” Zoe said.
“It’s not,” Seeley said.
She cut her eyes at him and opened her mouth to give a biting remark, but with a strong stride forward he bit first. “I know you don’t trust me, but I don’t care. Either you put on the handcuffs or you stay here. We do not have time for anything else.”
The air around Zoe’s head was thick and hot. She wanted to slap him, scream at him, but all she could do was hope the hate she was pushing out through her eyes was enough to affect his ability to breathe.
“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth.
Seeley dropped her stare, and it gave her a beat of satisfaction. But it didn’t ease the thundering of her heart as he tossed the handcuffs to McCoy and turned away. McCoy crossed to her and clamped the metal cuffs around her wrists. She tried not to dash for safety.
“Too tight?” McCoy asked.
Zoe saw the genuine concern in his eyes, and it eased her panic a smidge. She shook her head, and he offered her a reassuring smile.
They walked to Seeley, who had moved to the exit. “Follow my lead,” he said. “We have one shot at this.”
He pulled the door open, and with him on one side and McCoy on the other, Zoe was escorted into the hallway. Her brain was screaming, You’re being led to the slaughter like a willing lamb. The devil on one side, unassuming angel on the other, and you offered yourself over. Her legs nearly fought her own commands, and she could sense her heels wanting to dig into the ground and hold her still. Yet through her raging fear and crippling anxiety, all she could think was, Please don’t let Lucy already be dead.
THIRTY-ONE
THE WALK WAS eternal. And also happened so quickly that before Zoe knew it the three were on the final descending elevator. They had zero verbal communication. Everything was done with tugs and hand signals. Down four floors, past a handful of encounters without suspicion, and through several locked entries with the slick black key card Seeley had strapped to his belt.
As the elevator dropped, Seeley yanked a black baseball cap from behind his back and tried to place it on Zoe’s head. It was an awkward interaction, and she reached up to push him away and adjust the hat herself.
“To hide your face,” Seeley said, breaking the silence.
There wasn’t time for any other conversation.
“Be ready,” he said just before the elevator came to a soft halt and the doors slid open. The exit hallway was clear. “Heads down. Every inch from here on out will be covered in cameras.”
Zoe did as she was told, watching her feet as she was pulled along toward the end of the hall, where a large set of steel double doors stood closed. A moment’s pause followed as McCoy and Seeley swiped their key cards together on the twin security pads positioned on either side of the entryway.
The door clicked, and Seeley yanked it open. They stepped through to another hallway identical to the one they had just come from. Much like the rest of the building, it was hard, cold, and unapproachable. Stone floors and walls, steel doors, no windows. Zoe knew they were underground, maybe even below the subbasement from which they’d entered.
Seeley hadn’t been exaggerating about the cameras. Even with her eyes low, Zoe could sense them watching. She could hear their mechanical movements tracking her steps. It sent a shiver down her spine. How many people knew she was supposed to be dead? She kept herself shielded between the men and focused on not tripping over her own nerves.
The hall went only one direction. It took a turn right and ended at another set of steel doors. Zoe noticed the security pads were different.
“Two-step clearance measures,” Seeley said barely above a whisper. He dug something from his pocket before they reached the doors. Carefully and without drawing attention, he slid a small square piece behind Zoe’s back, his fingers lingering there as he waited for McCoy to take what he was offering.
They were at the doors, and Seeley and McCoy shared a glance.
“In tandem, yes?” Seeley said.
McCoy nodded, and after the swipe of the black key cards, both men plugged the small square objects they held into the bottom of the security entry data pad. The screen blinked to life, flashing for a security code.
Zoe had spent enough time with Tomac and his band of thieves to understand what was happening. The objects placed under the entry pads were decoders searching at lightning speed through hundreds of numerical options for the right set of numbers.
And it was taking a minute.
A minute longer than was comfortable. Zoe could feel the sweat that had gathered underneath the bill of her cap dripping down the left side of her forehead.
“Come on, come on,” McCoy whispered.
“What if this doesn’t work?” Zoe asked.
Their lack of communication was answer enough.
“It’ll work,” Seeley said. “They’re ours. They’ll work.”
Another second ticked by, and then another. Zoe’s mind scrambled with questions. How long did they have before the data pad realized the time between key card swipe and entry code was too long? Were people staring down at them right now as they stood there just looking forward? If it failed, what happened next? Did they have any other choices?
The ending encroached like a wild beast, and Zoe inched away from the doors. Then Seeley’s screen dinged green, and in the same second McCoy’s followed suit. There was another soft click, and without a moment of hesitation Seeley pushed open the unlocked door.
Once inside, he grabbed another sleek device from his armored vest. A larger black orb.
McCoy eyed it and gasped. “How’d you get your hands on one of those?”
“I heard about a case recently where this technology was used and borrowed it from the evidence room,” Seeley said as he searched the entry wall for his target. He strode toward what Zoe thought looked like a fuse box attached to the right side of the wall, nearly invisible because it blended into the space so well. He fiddled with the orb for a moment, then placed it on top of the box and tapped the side with his finger.
A small white light blinked five times, then went out again, fading into the dark atmosphere of the hallway.
“What does it do?” Zoe asked.
“It kills all the cameras connected to that line,” McCoy said, “which will be all those in this hall, as they’re kept on a separate feed in case of tampering.”
“We have five minutes before technical sends a team,” Seeley said. “Let’s move.”
Zoe watched McCoy tap the time into the digital watch on his wrist.
The hallway they’d just entered was different. Wider and dimmer, it was lined all along the right side with doors, regular in size and with small rectangular glass windows.
Seeley moved, pulling Zoe along, McCoy keeping pace. The long hall was curved, a half circle that prevented them from seeing the end of it.
They passed the first five doors without pausing. Zoe noticed the doors were lettered. They crested the turn and came upon a moving triad of guards. McCoy paused and overcorrected, yanking her back and forth.
“Who you got there?”
one of the approaching agents asked.
“Came in with the asset in Vault A,” Seeley answered. “We’re transferring her.”
The three exchanged curious looks, and Zoe could feel her stomach turn. The one in front, clearly the leader of the band, yanked a tablet that was Velcroed to his armored vest. “What’s your transfer number?” he asked, tapping the screen to life.
“We are clear on where to take the prisoner,” Seeley replied.
“I’m not sure how they do things up top,” the agent said, “but down here, rules are every prisoner gets catalogued before entering a vault. So, Agent”—the man looked at the name tag across Seeley’s right breast pocket—“Pilzer, what is your transfer number?”
“Pilzer?” one of the other agents questioned. “You’re not—”
Seeley was already moving. He released his hold of Zoe’s arm, reached around to his back, drew the small handgun that was holstered there, and fired.
One clean shot punctured a hole in the center of the questioning agent’s temple. Before the others could react, Seeley shifted his aim and connected another bullet with the agent who stood beside the one with the tablet.
In a split second, both men dropped to the ground like potato sacks. The man in the middle dropped his tablet to draw his weapon, but Seeley already had his pistol aimed at the man’s temple.
“Hands up,” Seeley said.
The agent slowly brought both hands skyward.
“Grab his firearms,” Seeley said. McCoy obeyed, relieving the man of the rifle slung over his shoulder and the pistol holstered at his waist. McCoy anchored both weapons to his person.
“Uncuff her,” Seeley said to McCoy. Then to the unknown agent: “Interlock your fingers and place your hands on your head.”
McCoy released Zoe’s restraints and handed them to Seeley, who took them and cuffed the agent’s hands in front of him.
“Take us to Vault A.”
“You’ll never—”
“Now,” Seeley said calmly as he shoved his gun farther into the man’s face. The agent gritted his teeth and turned, Seeley clasping one of his arms, his pistol now aimed at the back of the man’s head.
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