In the main room, everyone was back on their feet, hugging the walls as guards and cleaners swept up the ice. Banks, shadowed by Mouse, moved through the crowd making light of the disaster with jokes and laughter.
I said to Agent Wong, "let's go." Casually, we moved around the peripheral of the room, sprinkling astonishment and false smiles to whoever we brushed by. We were nearing the door when Wendell said urgently, "The cameras are still out. Are you guys still in the house?"
"Yes," I replied, whispering so nearby guests couldn't hear me. "We'll be out in less than a minute."
"Wait. You can't leave yet."
Agent Wong and I traded puzzled looks as we stopped in our tracks. Agent Wong asked, "Is there something wrong with the upload?"
"No," Reba's voice jumped in. "It's what's in the upload that's the problem. Banks didn't hide the devices in a secure dead drop as Farris expected. Both pocket nukes are in that house."
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Balthazar Banks rushed the cleaning crew out and signaled the DJ to throw on a track. The instant the music kicked in guests swarmed back into the center of the room and resumed partying like nothing happened.
Meanwhile, Agent Wong and I moved to a dark corner for a little privacy as a new voice filled our ears.
"Wong, Zillion, this is Farris. I'm being patched in from D.C. You should know that me and a team of analysts have been live monitoring your operation from X9 headquarters. A quick scan of the upload revealed that Banks has the devices stored in a wall safe in his basement. This development makes it necessary to amend your assignment."
"Amend how?" Agent Wong asked. "We just left two unconscious men in the study. When they're discovered Banks' security will put this place in lockdown."
"That's precisely the problem," Farris said. "A black ops team specially equipped to retrieve the nukes is being scrambled to your location as we speak, but their ETA is thirty-seven minutes. If Banks discovers those bodies before then he might get spooked and flee with the nukes. We can't let that happen."
"You want us to incapacitate Banks?" I asked. "The neurotoxin is no longer an option, but we can always whack him over the head."
"No. Banks isn't to be touched. His proximity to the devices makes us nervous. He might have a plan in place to trigger the devices if he's incapacitated. Our best option is for you and Wong to gain access to the cellar, break into the safe, and disarm the devices."
Agent Wong and I traded 'holy shit' looks.
As if reading our minds, Farris said, "We're aware this is a tall order, but so far you've done a great job. I'm confident you two can get this done."
I said to Farris, "Are you aware that Wendell and Reba won't be able to watch our backs because Rex somehow fried all the security cameras?"
Wendell jumped in. "Actually, Reba and I won't be able to communicate with you guys either. I'm pretty sure your earworms won't work underground."
"This just gets better and better," Agent Wong said with a sigh.
"On the plus side," Wendell said, "the door to the wine cellar is in the kitchen and it's been unguarded all night. Of course the catering staff is in there, but they're so busy they probably won't even notice you."
Farris said, "I haven't heard any reason for you two not to proceed as advised. Once you have possession of the nukes, protect them until the extraction team arrives."
"In other words," I said, "you want us to babysit two nuclear bombs."
"That is correct," Farris replied without missing a beat. "You two should get moving. Good luck."
I turned to Agent Wong and said. "Does all of your assignments get this fucking insane?"
She laughed.
"PARDON ME, but guests aren't allowed in the kitchen."
Agent Wong and I had maneuvered through a frenzy of rushing servers and cooks and were just steps from the cellar door when a plump, austere woman intercepted us. The way she barked orders at the servers only moments earlier, told me she was the catering manager.
"Sorry," she said gesturing back the way we came, "But you'll have to return to the party."
I put on my most charming smile and said, "Actually, Balthazar invited us to explore his wine cellar. I hear he has an amazing collection."
The manager looked bored. "I wouldn't know. Mr. Banks left strict instructions for us only to serve what's in those boxes." She gestured to stacked cases of wine and liquor. "He also made it clear the cellar was locked and was not to be touched. So, unless you have a key--"
"Actually, he gave me the key just a moment ago." I patted my empty breast pocket and prayed she wouldn't ask to see it.
She flashed a tight smile. "Really? Well, never mind then. Just watch your step when you leave. It's a bit crazy in here as you can see." With that she returned to wrangling servers, leaving us a clear path to the cellar door.
Wendell's voice spoke up. "Nice one Matt. You're a natural at the spy game."
I smirked at Agent Wong. "Hear that? I'm a Natural."
She rolled her eyes and said, "Wendell, instead of patting your bro on the back, how about getting those security cameras back online."
"Working on it," Wendell replied. "But it doesn't look good. I don't know what Rex did to the camera system, but I don't think it's reversible."
"Awesome," Agent Wong muttered with a frown.
Reaching the cellar door, I twisted and yanked the knob with no result. Just like the catering manager said, the cellar was locked. I reached for my phone to activate Halo, but Agent Wong raised a hand.
"No, no," she said. "Allow me." She pulled a compact from her clutch and popped it open to reveal a set of lock picks."
I chuckled at the sight. "Interesting make-up kit you have there."
"I know, right?" She nodded towards the busy kitchen staff behind us. "Keep a lookout."
I watched to make sure no one was looking while Agent Wong went to work on the lock. My heart stopped when the catering manager looked our way wearing a puzzled frown. I smiled and waved and felt a rush of relief when the crash of a dropped tray suddenly drew her attention.
I whispered to Agent Wong, "How much longer?"
"We're in." She pushed the door open. A waft of cool, musty air rushed from the dark doorway. She flipped a switch and lights illuminated concrete steps leading down.
After informing Wendell and Reba that we were about to enter the cellar, I gestured to the stairs and said to Agent Wong, "After you."
As Agent Wong began to descend, I glanced back and was pleased to see the catering manager had forgotten all about us. Shutting the door behind me, I followed Agent Wong down.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
"Wendell? Reba? Do you copy?"
There was no response.
I tapped my right ear hole, where the earworm device was hidden, and tried again. "Wendell? Reba? Are you there?"
Nothing.
Agent Wong gave it a shot as well, but got the same result. Wendell was right, Banks' cellar was too deep for the ear worm's tiny transmitter to penetrate.
I said to Agent Wong, "Looks like we're flying blind."
She nodded in agreement. "Let's get this done as quickly as possible and get the hell out of here."
Agent Wong and I were standing at the foot of the cellar stairs, facing a wine cellar that looked like a room straight out of a science fiction movie. The low ceilinged space had concrete slab walls, dim recessed lighting, and six all-glass illuminated display cases filled with vintage wine. Each bottle was perched upon clear glass pegs creating the illusion that the bottles floated on thin air. A digital panel mounted outside each case provided interior temperature in glowing blue numerals.
"Somebody takes his wine seriously," Agent Wong said as we paused at the bottom of the steps.
"Yeah," I said. "But clearly not his art." I pointed to three framed paintings, roughly the size of movie posters, hung side-by-side on an otherwise bare wall. The painting on the left depicted a bottle of red wine, the painting on the right a bottle
of white, and the painting in the middle featured an empty wine glass sitting on a small red table. I knew zip about fine art, but to me the three paintings looked amateurish and crude. I continued to Agent Wong, "I vaguely remember something in Banks's file about art school. I'd bet anything Banks painted these himself."
Her eyes ticking back and forth between the three paintings, Agent Wong said, "At least we know where the wall safe is hidden."
She had a good point. Every other wall in the cellar was conspicuously unadorned.
"Pick one," she said. "Red, white, or the wine glass?"
"I'll take red."
"Okay, I'll take white."
We crossed to the wall, each grabbed a painting, and hoisted it from its hooks.
The slab wall behind both paintings was bare.
Agent Wong and I exchanged amused shrugs. After setting down the paintings in our hands, I lifted the remaining painting from the wall.
The wall safe was black with dimensions similar to a cereal box, with a keypad mounted on the door. Above the keypad, a steel brand plate read, LOCTITE.
Agent Wong turned to me. "Can Halo handle this?"
Before she had finished the sentence I was pulling out my smartphone. I said aloud, "Halo, upload safe cracking."
The blue ring blinked on screen and Halo's pleasant female voice replied. "Shall I overwrite driving or combat?"
I had forgotten about Halo's limit of two simultaneous dataset uploads. Since I was nowhere near a car, I told Halo to overwrite driving.
Halo responded instantly. "Uploading safe cracking."
I felt those familiar tingly tendrils in my head and suddenly I knew everything I needed to know about Banks's wall safe.
The news was not good.
It was a model K1177. Constructed with Loctite's proprietary chromium, and nickel alloy, the small safe was resistant to drills, plasma torches, and even explosives. For that reason, the K1177 had a reputation for being one of the most secure wall safes on the market. I quickly let Agent Wong know the safe we were dealing with was practically impenetrable.
"So what does that mean?" She said. "You can't crack it?"
"Any safe can be cracked with enough time and the right tools. Unfortunately, we have neither. So, no, I can't crack it."
"Damn it!" Agent Wong groaned.
I raised a hand. "Hold on. Let me finish. Just because I can't crack this safe doesn't mean I can't open it. All we need is the combination."
"No shit," Agent Wong said with a laugh. "I don't need a brain implant to tell me that."
"But do you need one to know that ninety-three point two percent of safe owners keep their combination in a handy location. The K1177 requires an eight digit code. Considering Banks' carefree lifestyle I doubt he'd bother, or even trust himself to remember the combination."
Agent Wong eyes widened. "You're saying he wrote it down somewhere."
"Odds are he did. And I doubt he'd keep it somewhere he might lose it, like his wallet or on his phone. No, he'd keep it down here in the cellar, close to the safe."
"Okay," Agent Wong said, scanning the room. "But where? Even if you're right searching this place could take a while."
"No need to search," I said. "When I said close to the safe, I meant really close." I pointed to the paintings leaning against the wall. "Did you notice? Both paintings of wine bottles have numbers on them."
Agent Wong peered at the paintings with puzzled eyes. "They do? Where?"
"It's right in front of you. There are dates on the wine labels."
Suddenly seeing it, Agent Wong's mouth dropped open.
The bottle of red was a Terrantz vintage 1899 and the white a Meursault vintage 1978. There were no other numbers on either painting.
Agent Wong turned to me. "You know, I do remember something in Banks's file about a fine arts degree. You really think he painted these just to remind him of the combination?"
"Only one way to find out, right? I'll read you the numbers. You punch them in."
Agent Wong moved quickly to the keypad. "Ready."
Realizing Banks could've used any combination of the two dates, I decided to try the simplest and most instinctive approach first. Reading left to right, the red wine painting was hung first, and the white wine painting last, so I read off their respective dates in that order. "Try this," I said. "1, 9, 7, 8, 1, 8, 9, 4."
Agent Wong repeated each number as she poked it into the keypad, then she hit enter.
A red light flashed accompanied by a sharp discordant BEEP.
"No good," she said.
"Okay," I said. "Let's try it the other way." This time I read the numbers in both dates from right to left. "4, 9, 8, 1, 8, 7, 9, 1."
Agent Wong punched in the numbers.
BEEP! And the red light flashed again.
Agent Wong shot me a worried look. "Trying different combinations could take forever."
"That's not the problem," I said. "After three entry errors the K1177 shuts down and requires a security code from the manufacturer to reset."
Agent Wong winced. "So we only get one more shot at this. That's just great."
"I'm not done. The K1177 is often hooked up to a central alarm system so--"
Agent Wong finished my sentence, "So we get the next one wrong and every guard on the premises will be rushing down here."
"Pretty much."
Agent Wong frowned. "What's your confidence level? Still think this theory of yours will work?"
I stared at the dates on the two paintings. I didn't know why, but I was certain I was right. "I do," I said to Agent Wong. "The combination is staring right at us. We just have to-"
Suddenly the answer struck me. I'd been over thinking it. I said to Agent Wong. "It's so simple and makes perfect sense. The earlier date comes first. 1899 then 1978."
Agent Wong made a face. "That's it?"
"Yes. That's it."
Agent Wong cocked her head. "Are you sure? Because if you get this wrong we'll probably never leave this cellar alive."
"The best I can give you is pretty sure."
Agent Wong shrugged. "That'll have to do." She turned to face the keypad. "Shoot."
"1, 8, 9, 9, 1, 9, 7, 8."
Agent Wong punched in the numbers. Then, finger hovering over the enter button, she took a deep breath and said, "Here we go."
She pressed enter.
A green light flashed accompanied by a pleasant chime and a metallic CLACK, then the safe door cracked open.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
I watched as Agent Wong slowly opened the wall safe door.
An interior light winked on, illuminating a small steel-lined cavity. There was just a single item inside... a dull-black metal box. It was about the size of a lunch box, only narrower.
Agent Wong reached into the safe and withdrew the black box. The effort she made to grip it with both hands told me the small box was heavier than it appeared. Dipping to one knee, Agent Wong carefully set the box down on the floor.
I could now see the box was utterly featureless. There were no buttons, latches, or keyholes, just a thin line of separation where the lid met the base.
Agent Wong paused to glance up at me, then slowly lifted the lid.
We both gasped at what we saw inside.
Two small, metallic, cube-shaped devices nestled in thick foam cutouts. I recognized the pocket nukes instantly from the images Farris showed us at X9's headquarters. But finding the two miniaturized weapons was not the cause of our shocked reaction. There was something else inside that small black box Agent Wong and I never expected to see.
An empty space.
The black box wasn't made to hold two pocket nukes, it was made to hold three. There were three square cutouts in the black foam. The first two occupied by the two devices we were originally assigned to find, but the last cutout was conspicuously empty.
For a moment Reba and I just stared at each other, undoubtedly haunted by the same frightening thought. Finally, Reba broke t
he silence. "Let's not jump to conclusions. The empty space doesn't necessarily mean there's a third nuke."
"True," I said, "But think about it. Why custom build a box to hold three if you only have two?"
"Excellent question," a familiar voice behind us said.
Agent Wong and I spun.
Balthazar Banks and his linebacker-sized bodyguard, Mouse, stood at the foot of the cellar stairs. Mouse, pointing a large gun.
Banks, having shed his white armor, was now clad in a white suit accented with a blood red pocket square. Smiling, he said, "Zillion, to answer your question, there are indeed three fun-size nukes." To prove his point, Banks reached into his jacket's inside pocket and withdrew a metallic cube. It was a perfect match for the two inside the black box.
Grasping the bomb with just his fingertips, Banks raised it high overhead, gazed up at it and said, "There's something about holding three megatons of destruction in your hand that's so... fucking cool."
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
"Hands up," Mouse said with a wave of his gun. His voice was ridiculously deep and thickly accented, perfectly suited for a man the size of a Russian grizzly.
For a fleeting second I considered grabbing for my infinity gun, but I had a feeling Banks wouldn't hire a bodyguard who wasn't a crack shot.
Agent Wong and I did as we were told.
"You know what's funny?" Banks said. "When the caterer informed me that two guests were poking around my wine cellar, the first couple that popped into mind were you two. That chance meeting last night at Le Broulliard did strike me as a bit... convenient." He pointed at Agent Wong. "Let me guess. You're a fed. My money's on CIA." Then he pointed to me. "And you they recruited as cover to get the lovely lady agent into my party. Am I right?"
"Right on the money," Agent Wong said. "You're also done. As we speak a small army of federal agents are en route to this location. It would be in your best interest to surrender into my custody right now."
Banks laughed. "I'm literally holding a nuclear bomb and you want me to surrender? That is truly charming. Here's a more sensible course of action. Both of you drop your weapons, right now."
Zillion Page 17