ENTRAPMENT

by Kylie Brant

  There was no activity either on the road or around the compound. She hadn't expected any. It was nearly ten-thirty. The guard rotation should have taken place a half hour earlier. She'd heard the dogs barking as the shift change had occurred. It had been another reason to pick the time they recorded very carefully. The comings and goings would have kept the dogs busy near the drive or guard station. They wouldn't be likely to wander near enough to be recorded, making an alert guard wonder why he was seeing three or four dogs on the combined screens instead of two.

  When she made her way back to where Sam was hidden, he looked up and asked, "All clear?" When she nodded, he said, "It's nearly time. We'd better get ready." Juliette shrugged into her backpack. With the equipment inside, it weighed nearly fifty pounds. She was glad she wasn't going to have to carry it far.

  Sam shut down the computer and tucked it way back in its carrying case. Slinging the long strap over one shoulder, he slipped the handle of his other bag over his head. "I'll take one of those," he said, as she was snugging a tranquilizer gun into her waistband.

  She didn't waste time arguing. He'd been adamant about it the last time they'd spoken. Slapping the extra gun in his hand, she searched in her bag and came up with three one-CC darts, each with safety tips on them. "Try not to shoot yourself, or worse, me. I carry an antidote but administering it will slow us down a bit."

  He hefted the air pistol, took imaginary aim at the wall before him. "What's its range?"

  "I believe there's a saying in your country." She waited for his brows to rise quizzically before continuing. "Don't shoot until you see the whites of their eyes."

  "Or in this case, their fangs," he muttered.

  Apprehension snuck in, and she frowned at him. "You can shoot, can't you?"

  "Don't worry about me." After checking for the safety, he shoved the gun into the waistband of his pants. "I grew up with guns."

  "These pistols aren't fancy, just point and fire. It's important to reload quickly, in case the dog keeps coming."

  They both went to the cable. When she looked at him, he made a sweeping gesture with one hand. "After you." Reaching for her hood, she pulled it down over her face and adjusted it so she could see clearly. Grasping the rope in both hands, she gave a little hop, bracing her feet against the wall. As she walked rapidly up it, she allowed herself only one look down.

  Sure enough, Tremaine was standing directly beneath her with his head tilted back, looking for all the world like a man who appreciated the view. Juliette resolved to give him a good push later.

  She tossed the second cable attached to the hook down the other side of the wall and descended. While she was waiting for Sam, she kept a careful eye out for the dogs. Neither were in sight.

  Moments later, Sam was dropping lightly to the ground beside her. "Any sign of them?"

  Juliette shook her head and started across the lawn. "Sometimes you get lucky." It was a good eighth of a mile across the grass to the house. She and Sam jogged the distance silently. She was already planning the next step of the plan, that of entering the house. Once inside they'd have to take extra care not to cross paths with anyone. And there was still a need to find a place to hide out while waiting for this job to go down. She wished, not for the first time, that the time she was going to spend waiting wasn't going to be done with Sam by her side.

  The dogs came out of nowhere. They'd no sooner stepped onto the terrace outside the door they'd access than Juliette heard a warning growl to the left of her. Swinging toward that direction, she raised her gun, calmly waited for the animal to draw nearer, then shot. The dog staggered, stopped, and she swung around while reloading. There was no need. He'd already dropped that dog.

  She was in the middle of turning back to the first animal when she heard a low growl again, slower, but infinitely dangerous. Her eyes widened as Sam uttered a curse. The first dog drew back on its haunches, then launched itself at her like a canine missile, its gaping jaws snapping at her throat.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

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  Juliette backpedaled furiously, and raised her reloaded tranquilizer gun. But before her finger reached the trigger, another dart hit the dog in the chest and it stumbled, before dropping to lie at her feet. She stared at it for a second, still picturing the razor-sharp fangs that had gotten just a little too close for comfort.

  "Second gun came in handy, huh?"

  She looked up at Sam, attempting to shift her attention back to the job. "Yeah." She cleared her throat. "I guess so." He bent to retrieve the darts, and his action shook her out of her unusual abstraction. "Be careful with them," she breathed. "Here." She pulled out a Ziploc bag filled with cotton batting and held it open for him to place them inside. When he'd removed all three darts from the animals, she cautiously rolled them up in the baggie and put it in the leather pouch at her waist. She let Sam carry the dogs to some nearby bushes while she crossed to the door they'd access. Letting the backpack slide down her arms, she set it on the ground near her feet, bent, and started taking out the equipment she'd need.

  She shone a penlight on the door, didn't see a magnetic contact. Even if she hadn't paid for top of the line intelligence on Oppenheimer's security system, she wouldn't have been fooled into thinking the door was unprotected. More and more security companies were using recessed switches, with the magnet placed in the door, and the switch someplace in the door frame.

  Like a surgeon laying out his instruments, Juliette lined up the equipment she'd need for this stage of the job. She picked up the liquid-filled compass and began to pass it slowly around the edge of the door. When she reached a point where it reacted wildly, she knew she'd found the magnet.

  Sam's voice breathed in her ear, "Want me to hold the flashlight?"

  "No, but you can hold this. Right where it is." She waited until he'd taken the compass and held it positioned correctly before reaching for the gaussmeter. She stood, nudged him aside and held the instrument to the place where the compass had reacted. Studying the face of the gaussmeter, she quickly figured the exact magnetic strength of magnet used to close the switch.

  She bent down over her bag again, this time to replace the gadget and hunt for the box of magnets she'd packed. Selecting two with the same strength as the one detected in the door, she slipped one into her pocket and then rose. Stepping around Sam, she held the other to the spot where the magnet was recessed.

  Juliette breathed out a sigh of satisfaction when she felt the powerful magnetic pull. "Hand me that packet of picks, will you?" He went down on one knee near the equipment she'd laid out and silently held them up for her perusal. She selected the tool she wanted, and went to work on the door's lock. Twenty seconds later, she felt it give, and she silently berated herself. It should have taken her no more than ten. She needed practice.

  Dropping the pick into the packet Sam still held, she took another and went to work on the dead bolt. It opened in record time, partially easing her earlier dismay.

  "Wire," she whispered, and Sam held up the thin metal length she'd laid out. She exchanged it for the discarded pick and took a moment to haul in a breath. She affixed the magnet to the wire, and then fed the end into the door as she reached for the knob. Slowly, keeping her gaze on the position of the magnet, she opened the door a fraction at a time, feeding the magnet and wire in to circumvent the switch.

  The door opened, she looked back at Sam, but he'd read her mind and had already packed all her tools back in her bag. Rising, he nodded and she turned, taking the extra magnet out of her pocket as she maintained her grasp on the wire. Slipping inside, she held the second magnet to the other side of the door, signaled to Sam to grab the wire and outside magnet, then gestured for him to join her. Closing the door behind him, she retrieved her second magnet and consulted her watch. The whole operation had taken less than ten minutes.

  She looked at Sam. His hood was nearly identical to hers, obscuring his face completely. No one would ever have been fooled b
y the color of those eyes, though. And right now they were glinting at her in amusement.

  His voice near silent, he whispered, "Nice. But we're not done yet, so don't get cocky."

  Her narrowed glare should have said it all. And maybe it did, because when she grabbed her bag from him and turned, she felt an unmistakable pinch on her bottom. Resisting the urge to drive her elbow into his stomach, she made a mental note to pay him back later. When they were safely out of here with the information he wanted.

  The interior of the house was shadowy and quiet except for the ticking of an unseen clock. With her index finger raised to her lips, she gestured for Sam to follow her as she crossed the large living room and pressed herself to a wall next to the door exiting into a large hallway. Craning her neck, she could see a dim light. She mentally visualized the house blueprint in her head. The light would be coming from the kitchen. Which meant all the servants hadn't yet left.

  Ducking back inside the living room, she pressed her mouth to Sam's ear to whisper, "Someone's here. I'm going to check it out."

  His hand snapped around her wrist, halting her. "Maybe we should wait," he breathed. "We've got some time."

  Juliette shook her head impatiently. "They could be planning to stay until he gets home. Let me go. I'll be right back."

  It took a moment before his grip loosened. Another before she could tug free. Obviously he still had reservations, but she wasn't going to stick around and discuss them further. He'd hired her for her expertise and judgment. Evaluating the ongoing risks was just part of the job.

  She tiptoed into the hallway and pressed herself against the opposite wall. Keeping in the shadows, she sidled closer to the light, until she could hear the sound of voices. She stilled, listened. When she could make out the words she moved a little closer.

  German. Upon identifying the language the speaker was using she realized something else. It was only one voice, speaking, stopping, speaking again. Talking on the phone.

  "Ich warte Ihre Ankunft." Silence. Then, "Ja Sir. Alles ist zu Ihnen bereit." Pause. "Wie Sie wünschen." Juliette heard the sound of the receiver being replaced in the cradle. A few minutes later the kitchen fight switched off, and there was the sound of a door opening then closing again. She made her way back to the living room. It was hard to distinguish Sam from the shadows. When she did get close enough to make out his form, an involuntary gasp escaped her when she saw the snub-nosed revolver grasped in his hand.

  "What are you doing?" It took more effort than it should have to keep her voice pitched to a whisper. She never carried guns on a job, although she knew how to handle one. She fully ascribed to Jacques's theory that a good thief needed to rely on wits, research and cunning to make an escape. Guns should only be carried by people who had every intention of using them. It didn't make her feel any better to note that Sam looked as though he was capable of doing that very thing.

  "Put it away," she commanded. He lowered the gun, but didn't comply.

  "What'd you find out?"

  With one last glance at the weapon in his hand, she whispered, "There was one person in the kitchen. Probably the housekeeper or cook. I think she just got off the phone with Oppenheimer. He told her to go home. She just left."

  "Anyone else in the house?"

  "There doesn't appear to be anyone downstairs, at least. No other lights are on."

  "Ready to move, then?"

  "Not until you put that gun away." Her tone was adamant. His response was equally so. "No."

  She restrained the urge to kick him in his bad leg again. "I've never taken a gun with me on a job, and I don't intend to start now."

  "You didn't. I did."

  There was something decidedly unsatisfying about holding an argument in whispers. Her curse, however, was no less vehement for its lack of volume. "Damnez-vous a l'enfer et au dos!"

  "Have you ever seen the remains of someone who's crossed Oppenheimer?" Something in his near silent voice halted her own. "I have. The man is merciless, and he takes delight in inflicting the greatest amount of pain before death. If you think I'm going to let either of us take this kind of chance without some sort of defense, you're not as intelligent as I give you credit for."

  She'd never seen his eyes look that cold, that flat.

  His words summoned a brief visual memory that was better left tucked away. Juliette knew firsthand just what kind of sadistic monster Oppenheimer was. One of the driving forces in her life was her vow that she was never going to be helpless around the man again.

  The rest of her protest slid down her throat, un-uttered. With a curt nod, she picked up her pack and walked by him, her steps noiseless. He was just as quiet when he followed. But his reminder of the danger of this mission lingered between them. Juliette knew that if Oppenheimer ever caught her, she'd pray for death long before it was delivered. And if he discovered her identity, he'd make sure she suffered tremendously before killing her.

  She banished the chill that accompanied the thought by stiffening her spine. She'd successfully avoided capture for ten years, her eye on one goal—bringing down Oppenheimer. No one could match her for motivation. And she wasn't going to get caught this time. Not when it would risk everything she'd worked for. Not when it would bring an early end to her quest for revenge.

  Leading Sam down the darkened hallway, she went unerringly to the study. The door was closed, and she tried the handle. Locked. The schematics she'd acquired didn't mention any security protecting this entrance, but she reached into her bag anyway, and pulled out a thin metal wand. Clicking it on, she ran it along the door frame, over the door itself, checking for electrical impulses that would be evidence of some sort of protection. Nothing registered on the wand; its light remained dim. Content that her intelligence had been correct, she set it down, took out a pick and had the door open in moments. Before she walked through it, she waved the wand inside the narrow opening. The screen showed no evidence of security measures inside either, so she went inside. Once Sam was beside her, she shut the door and relocked it.

  "We've got about forty-five minutes left."

  Nodding she said, "See if you can find a place in here for us to hide. It would be easiest if we could stay in this room while we wait." Leaving him to look around, she went unerringly to what appeared to be a closet door in the corner of the room. But it was far more than that, she knew. It was the entry to the vault, which held the information Sam sought.

  She took out the bottle of ultraviolet ink and painted the doorknob with the substance. Odorless and colorless, it would be undetectable to the naked eye. When she finished, she replaced the cap on the bottle and turned to see what Sam had discovered.

  With a sound of disgust, she found him sitting in back of Oppenheimer's desk, rifling through the contents of a drawer. Juliette crossed to him. "Those had to have been locked."

  He didn't bother looking up. "You're not the only one with hidden talents." Obviously finding the papers of no interest, he put them away and relocked the drawer. As he bent over the next one, she noted he was using a pick from her own set.

  Irritation surged. "Give me that."

  He looked up as she made a grab for it. Teeth gleaming behind the black mask, he held it out of her reach. "I'm going to put it back. Don't be selfish. Didn't you ever learn to share?"

  It did nothing to douse her annoyance when he opened the next drawer with little effort. As she'd noted before, the man had more than a few illegal skills himself. "I flunked playing nice in kindergarten. The last little boy to use something of mine without permission got a Tonka truck alongside his head."

  Maddeningly, he grinned. Having scanned the documents in that drawer and obviously not finding them important, he put them back and secured the lock. "Ah, so you are from the States."

  Juliette froze, unable to believe what she'd just said. Not that the information was critical, but she'd never given away any information about her past, not even something as insignificant as this. It was one more piece of evid
ence that Sam was getting too close. He was sneaking through defenses she'd once sworn were impenetrable. Getting closer to her than any man had ever been.

  That thought alone was enough to send terror streaking up her spine. She clutched the edge of the desk with her gloved fingertips. It didn't matter, she assured herself frantically, ignoring the mocking voice deep inside that called her a liar. This would be over soon, and then Sam would be gone. She clung to that thought. And when it was, no one else would get this near. No one else would know so much about her. Small bits of knowledge, every one, but taken as a whole they painted a picture that was too accurate for her peace of mind. Juliette was comfortable living illusions of her own creation. There was no room in her life for a man intent on stripping them away, piece by piece.

  He finished with the last drawer and checked his watch again. "Now, you were saying … a place to hide." He swept the room with his gaze, then looked back at her and pointed. "How about in there?"

  When she saw where he was pointing, dismay filled her. But he was already crossing the room toward the antique cabinet sitting in one corner of the room. It looked to be Asian in origin, hand-painted with pictures and symbols which would tell something of its history. But for once the beauty and obvious value of a piece was lost on her. Her attention was focused on its size.

  It was narrow, barely three feet wide, and would require them to be pressed closely together for the entire time. Juliette's breath trapped in her lungs at the very thought. They would most likely be waiting for hours; longer if Oppenheimer didn't go to the vault until tomorrow. There was no way she could survive spending that much time pressed up against Sam Tremaine. Every nerve in her body quivered at the thought.