You Won't Know I'm Gone Page 14

  “Third floor,” I answer confidently. “The only thing we were told is that the target has a VP level title at this bank. Seems only right he’d have a nice office on a high floor.”

  “Corner office,” Luke surmises and nods his head.

  “Not necessarily, but maybe,” I reply and look down at Mom’s watch ticking away on my wrist. We’ve been standing here for far too long. “We need to get going. We can’t all use the same staircase or that’s going to look super suspicious. Cam, you take the south stairs. Luke, let’s take the north stairs and all meet up at the top of the third floor. Everyone have their earpieces in?”

  “Got it,” Cam answers, shoving the almost invisible sphere deeper into his ear canal.

  “Don’t talk to anyone if you don’t have to. Act like you belong here,” I instruct and eye Luke’s hands in his pockets. “Take your hands out of your pockets. That makes you look like you have something to hide. The targets will spot that in two seconds.”

  Luke removes his hands from his pockets, hanging them awkwardly at his sides, and gives me a sheepish nod.

  “Okay, let’s go,” I reply and turn on my heel to head toward the north stairs. Dressed in black pants, a blue button-down, and a light black jacket, I blend in among the bank employees much better than Luke, who is dressed in jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt. I tried to convince him to wear something different this morning but he dismissed me. “Listen to me. If we pass someone on the stairs, do not make eye contact. Just talk to me about something that’s not very memorable.”

  “Like what?” Luke asks, beginning to shove his hands into his pockets again until I give him a look.

  “Something age appropriate,” I reply as we slip out of the lobby of the bank and reach a heavy steel door that leads to an internal stairwell. “A party we’re going to this weekend. We need to look like we’re meeting one of our parents for lunch or something. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Luke answers.

  “Good, now let’s go,” I reply and open the stairwell door. The door closes behind us with a weighty clank and I hear the sound of high heels on the concrete steps. I hold up my hand and listen to the clack, clack, clack to determine if the footsteps are going up or down.

  Clack, clack, clack, they echo at a faster tempo. Crap. They’re going down. We’ll have to pass her.

  “I know, right?” I say to Luke as if we’re already in the middle of a conversation. If we’re in the middle of speaking, we have a strong chance she won’t stop us. It’s Black Angel psychology. Even in the most dangerous circumstances, people don’t like to appear rude. “Do you think Levi is going to make it to the party?”

  “He texted me and said he was coming,” Luke answers, playing along as we climb the first flight of stairs. “He asked if he could bring his new girlfriend. I haven’t met her yet, have you?”

  “Yeah, I met her last week,” I answer and the clacking-heeled actor/operative comes into view. My eyes immediately tear away from her and stay stuck on Luke. “She’s super sweet. I think you’ll like her. I’m so glad Levi finally picked a good one. The last few girls he’s dated have totally sucked.”

  As we reach the second-floor landing, I can feel the woman’s eyes on us. I look at Luke, waiting for him to pick up the next part of the conversation, but he just stares at me, his mouth hanging open, like a fish about to swallow bait and get wheeled into a boat. My eyes widen and I want to slap him. He’s giving her an in. Say something. Say something!

  “Can I help you two?” the woman asks as we reach the stairs to the third floor.

  I turn toward her and smile politely. “We’re good. Just meeting my dad for lunch,” I answer quickly and turn back toward Luke, hoping she’ll think twice before rudely interrupting our conversation. “I hated the last girl he dated. She was so demanding and rude. I seriously threw a small party when they broke up. Remember, over a Christmas present?”

  Clack, clack, clack. The woman is continuing her journey downstairs. Thank God.

  “Well, I mean, who can really blame her,” Luke responds as we reach the final steps. Almost there. Almost there. “He gave her one of those Open Heart necklaces from Kay Jewelers.”

  “True,” I say with a genuine laugh. “I think I’d break up with someone if they gave me one of those necklaces too.”

  Clack, clack, clack. She’s reached the first-floor lobby. I hear the door downstairs swing open and then slam shut behind her just as we reach the third floor. I swing open the door, ushering Luke through with dramatic, annoyed flair.

  “Jesus Christ, Luke,” I hiss, finding it impossible to hide my irritation. “Our cover may be blown now. You have to keep talking, you know?”

  “I know, I know,” he answers, his eyes frustrated. “I’m sorry, I just froze.”

  “Well, you cannot stare at me with your mouth hanging open,” I reply quietly. “That was the worst moment you could freeze up at.”

  “I’m aware, Reagan,” Luke answers, his voice low and tight in his throat. “Come on, we don’t have time to argue about what I did wrong.”

  “Yeah, especially not now,” I respond as we spot Cam at the other end of the hallway walking toward us. “She may be a target and could be reporting us for all we know. Let’s find the office and get out of here.”

  But which one? The long hallway is lined with open and closed doors. It’s eerily quiet up here. Like they’re waiting for something to happen. I feel for my fake gun beneath my light jacket. We’re to simulate the violent moves we’d use to get out of a dangerous situation but not actually hurt any of the operatives. With my adrenaline pumping and muscles twitching, that might be a little tough. But I’ll aim for no broken noses.

  My eyes scan the walls of the hallway. Above a drinking fountain is an eight-by-ten poster of faces and titles, men and women dressed in black or gray suits, pearl earrings or colorful silk handkerchiefs completing the banker look. I walk quickly toward the sheet of paper, careful to keep my footsteps light and not draw attention to us, and pull it off the wall. Each face has a name and a title. Cam and Luke look over my shoulder as I scan each title.

  Associate Director of Operations

  Director of Communications

  Executive Director of Commercial Loans

  Vice President of Internal Affairs

  “That guy,” Luke says and points toward the VP of Internal Affairs photo. “He could be our guy. He’s a VP.”

  “Not so fast,” I answer and hold up my hand. “He’s a VP but he’s not the right type of VP. He just deals with internal bank stuff. He won’t have access to dirty money trails on his computer.”

  My eyes keep scanning.

  Executive Director of Mortgage Loans

  Managing Director of Client Services

  Vice President of Investments and Client Acquisitions

  “Him,” I say and point toward his name. James Lacaillade. “Vice President of Investments and Client Acquisitions. He has access to the actual investments. He transfers money in and out. He’s our guy.”

  I fold the sheet of paper into squares and shove it into my pocket as we quietly walk down the hallway, my eyes scanning the names on the gold plates posted outside every door. We pass door after door after door. No James Lacaillade. My throat thickens, unnerved. Perhaps I had this all wrong? Maybe he’s not even on this floor after all. We reach the very last office.

  “Found it,” Luke says, pointing toward James Lacaillade’s plate. “See … corner office.”

  The office is empty, door open. I peer across the hall at the other open door. No one there either. We’re clear. But for how long?

  “Come on, let’s get this done,” I say, pushing Luke and Cam into the room and shutting the door. I close the blinds that look out into the empty hallway. Pins prick at the back of my spine. Something is not right. There is not a single person in the hallway. I look down at my watch: 12:22. It’s lunchtime, so maybe in the real world everyone would be out. But as my stomach spirals, I can’t help b
ut feel like this is a trap.

  “Cam, start doing your thing,” I say and look down at the door handle. No lock. Shit. We need to stop someone from coming in here. At least give us a chance to download the file. I look around the room. The floor is carpeted so we could slide something heavy across it without sending off alarms (any other type of flooring, you might as well just scream out “Hey, we’re stealing confidential files in here!”). I spot a short, gray file cabinet in the corner. Perfect. “Luke, help me with this.”

  “What are we doing with this thing?” he asks as I begin to pull it out of its spot in the corner.

  “There’s no lock on the door,” I reply as we tug the heavy cabinet from its spot and slide it toward the door. It fits seamlessly beneath the long handle. “So God forbid someone comes up here, not only will the weight block them from pushing their way in, they won’t even be able to move the handle.”

  I pull down on the piece of curved metal and it immediately strikes the cabinet. The lock won’t even slip past the doorjamb.

  “Brilliant,” Cam says from his seat behind the laptop. “I want you permanently on my team.”

  Thanks, Mom, my brain whispers. She taught me how to use my surroundings to my advantage; how to look for clues or escape routes or tools that may seem completely ordinary, but could save my life. She knew it all. Even more than Dad. She saw what others could not.

  “How are you doing on the files, Cam?” I ask, making my way behind the desk so I can get a better view of the laptop screen.

  “Good,” Cam answers without looking up, his eye glued to the screen as his fingers frantically type. “I’ve gotten past all the initial security measures and I’m just hacking into some of these encrypted files right now. This is where the money trail has got to be.”

  Luke and I watch in amazement as Cam types out a series of numbers and letters and symbols, the blue screen filling with codes I cannot understand. My hacking skills are basic. College level. Cam has the equivalent of several PhDs.

  “Just give me a couple more seconds,” Cam says, pounding at the keys, the screen giving way to more and more screens until boom. The words Access Granted flash in large, green letters. “Got it. Now I just need like ninety seconds to upload. Luke, give me the drive.”

  Luke fumbles in his pockets for the fake cell phone that holds the chip we need for the illegal download.

  “Luke, you need to have that stuff ready,” I scold, trying to hold back my frustration.

  “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Luke answers, the lines around his eyes and mouth deepening, clearly rattled by his series of mistakes. I desperately fight the urge to sigh. Luke finally opens the secret compartment in the back of the cell phone, revealing a wire and tiny chip that we’ve been instructed to use to download the files. He hands it to Cam. I glance down at my watch.

  “That just wasted thirty freaking seconds,” I comment, biting down on the flesh inside my cheek in an attempt to keep my voice as calm and even as possible. “That’s time we need.”

  “Reagan, I know,” Luke answers curtly, shooting me a glance that says Back the hell off. And I do. The trainers are listening in on us. I shouldn’t make him look bad. I don’t mean to. I just want high marks on this mission. Since the first round of cuts last month, I’ve been doing everything in my power to prove that I belong. That I didn’t get the last spot because I manipulated or bullied my way in here. I need to prove to Lex, to the other trainees, to the senior leaders, that I deserve to be here. Because before Qualifiers is over, six more trainees will be gone. And I didn’t fight this hard and get this close to gaining access to Torres to be kicked out.

  Cam plugs in the wire and chip into the computer and it immediately begins to download. A blue bar pops up on the screen, filling with the passing seconds.

  10% complete. 15% complete. 20% complete. 25% complete.

  I stare at the computer, my eyes burning from lack of blinking. Just as the bar reaches 40% complete, I hear footsteps in the hallway. I grab ahold of Luke’s arm and we listen. The steps are the heavy clunk of polished dress shoes. A man.

  45% complete. 50% complete.

  They get closer and closer and closer.

  55% complete. 60% complete.

  “Someone’s coming,” I whisper, gripping down on Luke’s flesh. I scan the room, immediately looking for an escape route. The window.

  I pull up the blinds to reveal a tiny metal fire escape.

  “Sixty-five percent complete,” Cam reports quietly as the footsteps get louder and louder.

  I unlock the window, pull it open, and lean my body outside. There’s a rusty ladder that hangs off this sad excuse of a balcony. I stare down between the rudimentary fire escape bars. We’re at least forty feet off the ground.

  “Seventy-five percent complete,” Luke whispers. The footsteps grow louder and louder until they are just feet from outside the door.

  Shit.

  The metal door handle jiggles, immediately slamming into the file cabinet. The three of us are silent, our lungs burning with held breaths.

  “Hello,” a deep voice says from the other side. Then there’s a panicked knock followed by another jiggle of the handle. Again, it slams into the metal file cabinet, buying us time but its boom causing alarm. “Is someone in there?”

  I look back at the computer screen. 80% complete. 85% complete. Luke and Cam look at me and I immediately put my finger to my lips and point toward the narrow fire escape.

  90% complete.

  “Who is in there?” the voice roars. The panicked knocks turn into violent pounding as the man struggles to move the handle again. It bangs and bangs and bangs against the cabinet, the sharp sound scraping against my ear canals. “Whoever is in there, you have ten seconds to come out or I’m calling security. Ten … nine … eight…”

  95%. 96%. 97%. 98%. 99%.

  “Seven … six … five…”

  The blue bar finally fills. 100% complete. Cam grabs the wire and chip and shoves it into his pocket. He types in a few codes, completely erasing any evidence of his hack, and slams down the laptop screen.

  “Four … three … two…”

  “Let’s go,” Cam whispers and I begin to climb out onto the fire escape. Luke climbs out after me and the metal balcony sways under our collective weight.

  “Come on, come on,” I say and begin to climb down the ladder, my heart pumping so loudly in my ears, I can no longer hear the angry voice on the other side of the door. But as I reach the windows of the second floor, I hear gunshots and the sound of breaking glass. Security must be shooting out the internal hallway window (or at least fake shooting out the window).

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “Move!” I yell up at my guys as we climb down the ladder, careful not to slip off and die.

  Twenty more feet. Fifteen more feet. Ten more feet.

  A few more rungs and I reach the ground. I scan the street, looking for Anusha in our getaway vehicle, and spot the gray sedan parked fifty yards away.

  Gunfire and voices can still be heard in the office above us. I turn around and watch as Luke jumps to the ground followed closely behind by Cam.

  “Run!” I scream and start sprinting for the car.

  The air is much colder than normal for late October in Virginia and I can actually see my breath heaving out of my lungs, its puffy clouds forming in front of my face. My high-heeled boots dig into the hard ground below me as Luke’s and Cam’s long legs nip at my heels.

  Go, go, go, go, my mind screams at me. We are so close. My muscles tighten, moving faster and faster with each passing yard.

  Twenty yards. Fifteen yards. Ten yards. Five yards.

  Finally, I reach the passenger-side door and hop in. Luke and Cam open the back doors and slide into the backseat.

  “Go, Anusha, go,” Luke says, hitting the back of her seat before he even has his door fully closed. Anusha pulls out of her parking spot and races down the fake street. I turn around, watching the outside of the ba
nk for security as Anusha reaches the first fake stop sign, takes a right, and we disappear from view.

  “Fantastic job, team,” RT trainer Michael says in our ears. “You are the first group to get out of the bank without getting caught and with all the information.”

  “Holy shit,” I whisper, sinking into my seat and taking in a full breath for the first time in ten minutes. I smile and high-five Anusha as she pulls into the CIA’s makeshift base in this little fake town.

  “Reagan, I got to hand it to you,” Michael says in my ear. “Some of those moves were genius. The file cabinet under the doorknob was a smart, tactical solution.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I reply with a smile. “It was an Elizabeth Hillis move.”

  “Some girls get their looks from their mamas, you got your smarts,” he replies with a sad little laugh. He knew my mother well. Worked with her on the RT squad for years. I see it in his eyes whenever he brings her up. He misses her immensely.

  “Well, guess what?” Michael says in our ears. “Since you guys passed the test on your first try, you are done for the day. Actually, you’re done for the rest of the week. Not sure if you guys have planes to catch for home or if you’re coming back to CORE but, hey … enjoy your long weekend. It’s one of the last breaks you’ll have for a while.”

  “Thanks, Michael,” I answer before taking the earpiece out of my ear and switching off my microphone.

  “Oh my God,” Cam says, grabbing me by the shoulder. “Freedom! I am so damn excited.”

  “Me too,” Anusha says, putting the car into park and sinking back into her black leather seat. “No training, no meetings, no anything for three full days. I cannot wait.”

  “Me either,” I say and clap my hands together. “What are we going to do, you guys?”

  Anusha and Cam begin listing off all the ways we should relax and unwind with our few precious days off. Sauna, many sundaes, epic pool and Ping-Pong tournaments, a movie marathon.

  I turn around to smile at Cam, and it’s then I realize only three of us in this car are happy. Luke sits in the backseat, his dimples nowhere to be seen. His light blue eyes have darkened, his full lips sinking into a frown. He presses his head against the windowpane and silently stares out at the hollow buildings of our pretend town.