How the hell? Jenna leaned forward to slide free the knife concealed in her belt at the small of her back.
As she handed it to Samra, she twisted and caught a glimpse of the woman’s tablet and saw an image of a human skeleton. Ah…the marble columns at the entrance concealed some kind of X-ray scanning equipment. Smart. Especially given Samra’s clientele.
Samra tapped her tablet and spoke into it. “Heidi, would you be so kind as to give Ms. Galloway a tour?”
Moments later, the pretty redhead in the gold dress was leading Jenna away from the office and toward the bank vault. She’d swapped out the serving tray for a small tablet identical to Samra’s. “Would you be interested in learning more about our off-shore holdings? I see here that you currently prefer the Caymans. I believe we could provide you with a more advantageous return on investment. Or are you looking for a physical facility to store cash deposits and other valuables?”
The bikers and their accountants had cleared out—Oshiro cramping their style, no doubt. Leaving only Jenna, the trio of waitresses—tellers? Financial advisors? Call girls?—the two visible security guards, bartender, and the coat check girl.
“Cash,” Jenna answered.
Heidi nodded, moving past the counter toward the vault. “As you can see we offer top-notch physical security. The vault itself was designed in 1932 by Louis Simon, one of the architects who built Fort Knox.”
Jenna paused at the thick vault door, stroking her hand along its edge. “Old school.”
“Yes. But it’s not the most impenetrable security feature.” Heidi swept into the vault and waved her arm like a game show hostess revealing a prize. “We have a state-of-the-art intruder detection system, and each deposit box has its own eight-digit encryption key, programmed solely by the owner. If you’d like, we can also add biometric security at an additional cost.”
Jenna stared at the keypads. Morgan’s notation on the map started with three digits—304, the box number, no doubt—followed by eight more digits. She moved beside box 304 but kept her gaze focused on the box diagonally above it, hoping to divert Heidi’s attention from her real target. Box 304 had a regular keypad, no biometrics. Good.
All she needed now was a few seconds without Heidi watching her. “Is there an empty one you could demonstrate with? I’d like to examine the interior construction.”
“Of course.” While Heidi consulted her tablet and moved to a box toward the front of the vault, Jenna typed in the code Morgan had given her.
The box’s door opened with a click. Heidi spun around. “What are you—”
Before she could finish, a blast rocketed through the air.
Chapter 13
MORGAN ESCAPED DOWN the rear hall and locked herself in the empty men’s room. She kept dialing Jenna until finally someone answered.
“Jenna, are you okay?”
“What the hell, Morgan! You should have warned me.”
“Of what? What happened?”
“Your father’s lock box was rigged to blow. Would have taken my hand off if I’d been standing on the other side of the door.”
“So, you’re okay? Everyone’s okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Your banker friend isn’t too happy, though. I think she’s going to want her toaster back.” Toaster? Jenna always babbled when her adrenaline spiked.
As soon as the cops heard that there’d been an explosion at the location Morgan had sent Jenna to—no matter that it was Jenna who triggered it and Clint who planted the device—they’d want to hang on to Morgan. Which meant processing her. Fingerprints, photos, who knew what else? No way was she letting Jenna’s stupid mistake put her in the system or land her behind bars.
Even if sooner or later they’d learn how wrong they were, Morgan knew better than to wait around for the scales of justice to right themselves. Besides, she’d gotten what she came for, she now knew where not to look for Clint.
She had a feeling none of his usual patterns fit—smart thinking on his behalf, but she was a bit surprised, since Clint was nothing but a creature of habit. Gibson Radcliffe. He was the key.
Time to move. She hung up the phone and opened the door, assessing her options. There was a fire exit, its red sign tempting her from her left, at the end of the hall. Wired to alarm when opened, which she could circumvent, given enough time, but why not use it to her advantage instead?
Directly across from her was another metal door leading into the stairwell. She closed her eyes, imagining the building’s layout. The law offices would be directly overhead, the empty renovated area beside it. Yes, that would do nicely.