45
Four hours later, in a deep fog, I felt something jabbing me. I rolled over and looked at the clock. Three twenty-nine in the morning. What the hell?
I turned over and saw Jennifer completely dressed. She said, “It’s time.”
Irritated, I said, “No, it’s not. Jesus.”
My watch alarm went off exactly when I’d set it: three thirty. I slammed it to silence. I looked back at her, aggravated at the early-bird bullshit. I saw wide eyes. Someone who needed strength, not my whining about being awakened a minute early. Although I would have liked that damn minute.
I rubbed my face and swung my legs off the bed. “You ready?”
“Yeah. I think so. It’s still raining. That’s going to make it hard.”
I smiled. “And fucking cold.”
She said, “Thanks. That’s a lot of help. I wish I’d known I’d be climbing. I would have packed different clothes.”
She was wearing jeans and a black, long-sleeved tourist T-shirt we’d bought at a bar, with sensible leather shoes on her feet. She had her hair in a tight ponytail and had forgone any makeup. She oozed nothing but business, and it brought a smile to my face.
She said, “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” I pulled on my jeans and said, “You just look so serious.”
“Well, we’ll see how that works in about thirty minutes.” She started pacing while I finished dressing.
I said, “You okay?” She looked at me, and I said, “Hey, this is a walk in the park. Remember Singapore? This is nothing like that. A one-story climb, with a huge window.”
She calmed down, saying, “Yeah, but it’s a driving rainstorm. And we don’t know the reaction time for anyone. We don’t even know about alarms. We don’t know anything.”
“We’ll have the cameras once you slave. Is Dunkin ready?”
“Yeah. I called him ten minutes ago to make sure he was set.”
Boy, I bet that early wake-up pissed him off.
Finished dressing, I said, “Okay then, let’s get it done.”
We took the back stairs to avoid the reception desk seeing us leave, exiting on rue Charles Buls and walking straight to the Grand Place. Now dead, the area was spooky. A large expanse of stone surrounded by gothic buildings made of granite, it was full of tourists and markets in the day. Cheerful and airy. Something people the world over came to see. At night, it became sinister.
As we slipped along in the darkness, it seemed the towering stone buildings were looking down on us with disapproval. We scurried through, sticking to the shadows, making a half-assed attempt at looking like tourists out for a stroll at four in the morning but knowing we looked skeevy slinking around.
We passed down the alleys of deserted restaurants, the chairs all on the tables, the rain dripping down. We saw not a soul. We skirted by the hotel’s alley entrance and reached rue de l’écuyer. We paused, waiting for a car to pass. The rain had let up some, turning into a miserable drizzle.
I said, “You sure you can do this? The stone’s going to be wet as shit.”
She was a bundle of energy, her entire body vibrating in anticipation. No fear. No hesitation. Everything that had been said in the room was gone. I realized my question was stupid.
She pulled me into the wall, out of the rain and into the darkness. She said, “I get caught, you get me out, right?”
I said, “Of course.”
She nodded and clicked her earpiece, not even waiting on me, taking over the operation. “Dunkin, Dunkin, this is Koko, you on?”
“I got you Lima Charlie. Ready to slave.”
I heard the words from my own earpiece and started to say something, but she put a finger to my lips. “I get to say it this time.”
She pulled her shoes off and handed them to me. Standing barefoot, she took a deep breath, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Showtime,” then slipped around the edge of the wall.
I watched her leave and felt my emotions go into turmoil. Part of me wanted to stop her, a feeling of impotence flowing through me because I was putting her in harm’s way without a means of helping her. If she were hurt, it would be my fault. And I wasn’t sure if I could live with that.
I lost sight of her and began the long wait to hear she was inside, the rain dripping down from the awning I was cowering under. I heard a noise and saw a rat, scuttling about the adjacent outdoor café, looking for scraps. I waited a minute more, then leaned out into the street. I saw her thirty feet in the air, clinging to an outcropping of granite, her feet swinging about, searching for purchase. I knew she was in trouble, but, outside of standing below to catch her, I could do nothing. I watched for what felt like hours, but was probably five seconds, and saw her feet connect with a stone, her toes curling into the veins.
She paused, and I clicked in. “Koko, you okay?”
She came on, breathing heavy. “Yeah. I’m okay. This granite is slick as goose shit. You owe me big time.”
I smiled. “I’m always owing somebody.”
I saw her start climbing again and heard, “But this time I’m making you pay up.”
She reached the window, and I saw her lean over and place the slave device on the cable coming out of the camera, working the claws past the insulation with one hand alone. I heard, “Dunkin, slave in place. You got feed?”
“Stand by.”
A second later, he said, “Got it. All feeds. Nine cameras. You’re good. Everything is empty except for the front desk. Security is in place and bored.”
She started cutting the window. From the keycard, we knew this guy had rented the room for three weeks. Since he was dead, we didn’t have a whole lot of fear of anyone finding the break-in.
She started to open the window, and I saw headlights on the road. I said, “Car. Hug the wall.”
She froze, and I waited. She was outside of the cone of the headlights, and the rain would make it hard for anyone driving by to see her, but movement would be a killer.
The vehicle passed, and she went back to work. Shortly, I saw her disappear, a black blob that simply ceased to exist.
I heard, “Inside. Room is empty. Some clothes, but nothing else.”
“Nothing interesting? No documents or anything else?”
“No. But we know this guy was in Dublin. He probably packed out to go there, leaving the bare minimum here.”
I said, “Okay, get to the garage. Get me in.”