I take the aisles one at a time, going down one and up the next. Now my heart is racing. Even if I get what I need here, I still have to find a way to sneak it past security and use it before someone wanders into the hallway.
Maybe Karl could have his sources double check shit before handing it off.
I find it in the hardware aisle: a length of thick, but pliable, wire.
At least Kevin's credit card works. In minutes, I'm back in the car, the long piece of wire jammed into the backseat. I cruise toward the office, my brain running as fast as the hum will let it.
I can't just walk past security with a big ol' wire. I need something to hide it in. Something that wouldn't stand out.
Something like a briefcase.
I hit the steering wheel. “Son-of-a-slut!”
To the big box store I go. I spend ten minutes rushing through the aisles, becoming lost in camping supplies and treadmills, and finally finding the damn briefcases next to the luggage.
Back at the Corolla, I cram the wire into the briefcase like a lethal jack-in-the-box and snap the locks shut. Now if I can remember to look away when I open it again, I might avoid losing an eye.
I try to take deep breaths and tell myself all sorts of far-fetched hopes that this is going to end well.
When I pull into the office building parking lot, I start shaking. Hard enough I'm surprised my teeth aren't chattering.
Ridiculous. I have killed. I can pick a damn lock.
I make it halfway to the office before I remember the Briefcase of Certain Doom. Cursing under my breath, I hurry back to the car, grab the damn thing, and burst inside the lobby.
I use the badge to unlock the turnstile. Just as I push through, the security woman speaks, without even looking up.
“Forgot something?”
I halt, muscles tense ready to flee. Then I look down at the briefcase in my hand.
“Oh. Yeah,” I say. “Can't work without it.”
She nods and takes a bite of Ramen, eyes fixed downward.
Monitors.
This whole place has closed-circuit television. How long do I have before she spots me playing surgeon with the office lock?
I get off on the fourth floor, hoping no one is around. So far, so good. Even the janitor has moved on to better trash-emptying grounds.
I round the corner and grimace at the door. Why couldn't the badge just work?
Why can't Karl just take a dirt nap?
Wait, no. That would leave Silvia in charge. My nights would be spent swapping bodily fluids with her or cracking the necks of all the people who have ever pissed her off.
I look both directions in the hallway, then drop the briefcase to the ground and open it like a bomb tech cutting the cable he's not quite sure is the correct one. The contents don't explode from the case, after all.
I crouch down and set to work shaping the length of wire, because doing this before returning would have made too much sense. My hands are sweaty, so I wipe them on my pants. Footsteps thud from one direction then the other, but when I halt to listen more closely, the hallway is silent. Or maybe the noise is drowned out by the hum-hum-hum.
I duck-waddle forward with my Scepter of Lock Defying Evil and wedge it under the door. The wire has a few sharp angles in it now, but I work it underneath so that the tall piece is flush with the other side of the door. The hook at the end scratches and knocks around, looking for the latch.
The hook catches. I hear a click. The door opens.
I am golden.
I look up. A man is staring down at me, his fist clenched around the top of the wire.
I am dead.
I lunge at him, hitting the side of my hand into his throat. He stumbles back. I slam the door shut with my foot, but the hinges glide it close with a solid click.
I grab his hair and smash his head into the desk.
His body drops to the ground, but he's still breathing. I haven't killed anyone, and I would like to keep it that way. I have no idea how far the ruckus has traveled though. If security is on their way, I have minutes to get out of here.
I look under the desk, check behind the chair, and open the cabinet standing against wall.
No safe.
I turn back to the room, eyes darting for any other place it could be hiding. The office isn't that big.
I tear open the desk drawers and dump them out, knock the lamp to the floor, pull stacks of files from the cabinet. It's impossible—physically impossible—for the safe to be here.
My lungs choke for air as I continue to claw my way through the files.
I feel setup.
Maybe it's paranoia.
Maybe it's this goddamn hum in my skull. I smack my head a few times with my palm, but my brain doesn't start running properly again. Just humming. Growing. It knows I failed.
The safe is gone. I can't fulfill the request. And I've made a hell of a lot of noise.
I take off through the door and down the hall, but every step is more painful than the last.
The princess is in another castle.
I have failed.
***