“It’s over on North City Parkway,” Louie said. “Attached parking garage, most of the neighbors are also offices, so the whole block empties out at five o’clock. Armitel occupies the entire ninth floor, and there’s a key-card access door just past the elevators.”
I nodded. “Security?”
“Provided by building management. They use Gold Star Northwest, so you’re looking at five or six guys on patrol routes, pepper spray, maybe Tasers.”
“And pulling down minimum wage. I’ve taken scores guarded by Gold Star before. I know how these guys operate.” I glanced at Desi. “Mall cops. They’ve got orders to run and lock themselves in the security room if anything looks dicey. Occasionally you’ll get one who thinks he’s an urban ninja, but usually the only threat is if they manage to call the real cops.”
“Cut the building’s comm trunk,” Tyrone murmured with his chin in his hand. “End that nonsense quick. What about cameras?”
Louie swiped his screen again, bringing up another angle on the building. “Camera in the lobby, another up on nine, just outside the elevator and emergency stairwell. The security room is on the first floor and they’ve got at least one guy stationed around the clock, but it’s a coin flip if he’s actually watching the monitors.”
“I don’t gamble my freedom on coin flips,” I said, then looked to Tyrone. “What do you think, kill the whole electrical system, simulate a power outage?”
“You read my mind. Though without seeing what kind of backup generator they’ve got, and how they prioritized the feeds…what do we know about their alarm system?”
“GTL Security,” Louie told him.
“Cream puff. You can fool a GTL box with the foil from a stick of bubble gum if you know the trick to it. Yeah, I can work with that.”
“One other thing,” Louie said. “After the suits go home, they lock the place down tight. There’s a rolling security grate over the lobby doors, hardcore titanium, and since they’ve got twenty-four-hour security, it’s designed to be locked from the inside.”
I shifted in my chair, thinking. “Could cut our way through, but that’s a hell of a lot of noise.”
Desi reached out, tapping the screen with a sharp black fingernail.
“They’ve got restaurants on the first floor. A fast-food place. We could get in there easy.”
“Yeah,” Louie said, “but there’s no connection between the auxiliary businesses and the office complex. No doors, no way to pass between them on the inside.”
“They got HVAC.” Desi’s eyes glinted, an eager smile on her lips. “That means vents. I could wriggle through, open up the grate from the inside.”
Tyrone arched a thin eyebrow at her. “Girl, those vents are like six inches tall and maybe a foot wide. You’re tiny, but you’re not that tiny.”
“She can do it,” I said, sipping my wine as the entire table looked my way.
“If he says I can do it,” Desi added, “I can do it.”
Tyrone shrugged. “Starting to sound like a plan. What about the safe, though? We need a boxman.”
“Already handled,” Nicky said. “Paddy said yes, he’s in.”
I shook my head. “I’d rather work with Coop. He’s more reliable, more experienced—”
“And on the East Coast at the moment,” Nicky told me. “Trust me, I called him first. And yeah, you don’t have to say it, Paddy’s a prick. But he’s a prick with skills and his own gear, and most importantly, he doesn’t have anything better to do tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow?” I held up my open hands. “Whoa, not a chance. That gives us no time for recon. We have to case the building, test police response times, get our hands on the blueprints…I need a week, at least.”
“And I need a pony. Difference between us is I can actually buy a pony.”
Juliette’s eyes lit up. “We’re getting a pony?”
Nicky sighed. “No, babe, figure of speech.”
Justine leaned against his arm. “But we are getting a pony, right?”
Nicky pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Louie? Fill ’em in.”
“The meet with Goreki’s cartel buddy is set to go down any day now,” Louie told us, “and once it does, bye-bye bearer bonds. We’ve gotta move on this. Tomorrow night Goreki’s got an invite to a charity ball on the other side of town. He’ll be there, and so will his ‘bodyguard,’ hopefully giving you a window to get in and get out with a minimum of…you know. Weird stuff.”
I read the look in Nicky’s eyes. Cold steel. This wasn’t a job offer so much as a command performance, and while I wouldn’t have touched this score with a ten-foot pole on my own, I knew I wasn’t getting out of it.
“What’s the split?” I asked him.
“Louie gets five percent, matchmaker fee for setting this up and running the intel, and you, Tyrone, and Paddy get ten each.”
I nodded to my left. “What about Desi?”
“Hey, bring her if you want, but I didn’t invite her to the party,” Nicky said. “Pay her out of your cut.”
“She’s going to earn her keep, and I charge extra for rush jobs. Five percent for Desi, apprentice wages, and Tyrone and I get twelve percent each.”
“What about Paddy?” Nicky said.
“Fuck Paddy,” Tyrone said with a laugh. “He ain’t here. We won’t say anything if you don’t.”
Nicky pursed his lips, running the numbers in his head. He stared me down, and I gave him a taste of his own medicine, staring right back.
“Fine,” he said, throwing his hands up. “Twist my arm a little harder, why don’t you? Fine. But only because I know you can get the job done. I want to see you on my doorstep, morning after tomorrow, with a nice big present for me, okay?”
“I’ll wrap it in a bow,” I told him.
The kid had been silent, riding in the backseat beside me, his lips slightly parted. He was running the numbers, too.
“Wait,” he said. “A hundred thousand dollars in bearer bonds.”
“Yep. See, bearer bonds are special: they’re basically the same as cash. They’re not tied to anybody’s name or account, so it’s impossible to prove if they’re stolen. Which is great if you need to make some sketchy purchases—like buying a bundle of coke from the Cali Cartel, case in point—but if you lose ’em, you’re screwed. A score like that is pure catnip.”
“Yeah, but…twelve percent? So all you had to do was break into some office building, and you got paid twelve thousand dollars for it?”
My gaze slipped away, looking past him, out the window. Out across the endless desert night.
“No, kid. I didn’t.”
Sunset the next night found us on the east side of Vegas. Della’s was a pool hall, the kind with scratched-up tables, beer-sticky floors, and a regular crew of red-eyed barflies dead set on murdering their livers. We were just killing time, waiting for the call. Tyrone leaned across a table, taking careful aim, and let his cue fly. An orderly triangle of scuffed balls erupted in a hollow crack and a sudden burst of uncontrolled chaos as they shot in all directions.
My nerves simmered like the frayed end of an electrical cable. That old familiar tension right before pulling a job, when I stared down the double-barreled shotgun of my future: freedom and easy money on one side, a prison cell or a shallow grave on the other. By the end of the night, I’d find out. I nursed a Jack and Coke—just one, to settle my stomach and keep my mind right. Desi wandered over, cradling a margarita.
“It feels like we should be doing something,” she said.
“We are. We’re waiting. As soon as Louie’s inside man spots Goreki and his sorcerer buddy at the party, he’ll call and give us the green light. Drink your drink and try to relax.”
She took a sip. Her eyes met mine over the glass.
“What do you think we’ll run into in there?”
“Wards, maybe. Could have put a witch-eye on the bonds, to track them if they go stolen. Nothing we can’t ha
ndle. I just want to be sure the Russian isn’t on-site. Important rule: never get into a fight with another magician without studying them forward and back. Know thy enemy. Whenever possible, dox thy enemy.”
“I bet we could take him,” she said, a little bluster warring with the nervous energy in her voice.
“That’s a bad bet to lose. Okay, theory-craft: how would you kill me?”
She blinked. “Why would I?”
“I don’t know. I left the toilet seat up. I ate the last slice of pizza. If you had to take me out, how would you do it?”
Her brow furrowed. She looked me up and down, weighing her options.
“Well, you do that thing with your deck of cards. I guess I’d start by coming up with some kind of hex to neutralize them—”
I made my fingers into a gun and pointed at her forehead, pulling the trigger.
“Bang. And you are already dead. Because I’ve got four or five other ways to fight, including a very non-magical forty-five automatic. Another rule: never, ever fight on a magician’s own terms. Never let them see you coming, never let them control the battlefield, and if you feel the need to say anything to them, tell it to their tombstone. The correct answer to the quiz, by the way, is to come up behind me, ram an ice pick through the back of my neck, and keep walking.”
“Cheerful,” she said, flashing a wry smile. “Uh, newbie question here, but speaking of guns, shouldn’t we…have some?”
“Nope. Never on a B-and-E. If you get caught, you’re looking at automatic prison time just for carrying. Besides, what do you need a piece for? You’ve got weapons.”
She gave a hesitant shrug. “I guess. You’re sure I’m ready for this?”
“Desi, you’re the best student I’ve ever had.”
“I’m the only student you’ve ever had.”
“Technicalities.” I sipped my drink. “You’re a faster learner than I ever was, and you’ve got a natural talent. I wouldn’t bring you along if I didn’t think you could handle it. It’s my neck on the line too, you know.”
“Ours,” Tyrone said, stepping around us with his cue and hunting for an angle on the eight ball. “You got this, Dizzy.”
Down toward the bottom of her margarita, Desi rested one hip against the table and looked my way.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
She tilted her head and leaned a little closer.
“Why haven’t we ever, you know, hooked up?”
I laughed, then paused, seeing the flash of hurt in her eyes.
“It’s not you,” I said. “I’m not laughing at you.”
“Then what?”
“I’m your teacher, Desi. I’m not sleeping with my student. That’s all kinds of wrong.”
“I won’t be your student forever,” she said.
“No, but then there’s Roxy. We’re getting pretty serious. And I’m not screwing around behind her back.”
“Does she even know what you really do for a living?”
“Nope.” I lifted my dwindling glass to the light, counting water spots. “And she’s not going to find out. Roxy’s…normal. She’s the one spot of blissful normality in my life, and I’m looking to keep it that way.”
“You know I’m good at tarot cards,” she told me. “Wanna hear your future?”
“I’m all ears.”
Desi pushed away from the table, turning to face me. She poked a fingernail against my chest.
“You’re going to leave her, or you’re going to drive her away and make her leave you. You don’t want normal, Daniel. That’s a lie you sold yourself on. You thrive on chaos, and the only place you’re ever really, truly happy is when you’re standing in the heart of the storm.”
I shrugged and tossed back one last swig, finishing my drink, clinking the glass down on the lacquered rim of the pool table.
“Guess we’ll find out,” I told her.
Tyrone held up his cell phone.
“Just got the text from Louie. We’re good to go. Ready to do this?”
I put my arm around Desi’s shoulder, giving her an affectionate squeeze.
“Come on,” I told her. “Let’s get paid.”
“Oh, I get it,” the kid said, nodding slowly. “This is one of those stories. She stabbed you in the back, right? Or this Roxy chick did. Somebody took off with the money.”
I stared at him until he shut his mouth, and kept it shut.
“How much farther, Louie?” I asked, still staring.
“We got a little time yet.”
“Time’s funny,” I told the kid. “You’ve always got less than you think.”
We stole a dusty hatchback from a sleepy suburban tract. The house was dark, the owners fast asleep, and if everything went right they wouldn’t know it was gone until the morning.
“Mask up,” I said as we rolled toward the parking garage.
Desi leaned in from the backseat. “He didn’t say there were cameras in the garage.”
“It’s an automated ticket machine,” Tyrone said. “They’ve all got cameras built in. Don’t want ’em reviewing the footage later and catching a glimpse of our smiling faces.”
He pulled over just long enough to tug a black knit ski mask over his face. I did the same, and Desi followed our lead. He punched the button, grabbed a ticket in one blue-latex-gloved hand, and promptly tossed it to the concrete as the mechanical arm swung up ahead of us. We rolled inside, slow and easy, watching for security guards on the prowl.
We found Paddy in the garage, leaning against a panel van with his beefy arms crossed and a toothpick jutting out between his chapped lips. He spat it out as we pulled up, and as soon as he got a look at me, his eyes narrowed behind his mask.
“Oh,” he said, “it’s gonna be one of those jobs, then.”
“Nice to see you too, Paddy.”
He ignored me, walking around to haul open the van’s back doors. A pair of long, bulky duffel bags waited inside.
“If I’d known there was gonna be weird shit, I would have demanded more than an eight-percent cut.”
Tyrone and I shared a look. Desi, to her credit, didn’t say a word. Paddy slung one of the bags over his shoulder, metal jangling inside, and gave an expectant wave. “Well? The other one ain’t gonna carry itself. How about one of you actually does some honest work?”
I hoisted the bag and wished I hadn’t. It felt like fifty pounds of wet concrete, the nylon strap biting into my shoulder with every step I took. Paddy shot a look at Desi.
“I don’t recognize those eyes. Who’s the skirt?”
“My apprentice,” I said. “So mind your language.”
“Apprentice? She’d better not be getting a cut of the action.”
“When that’s any of your business, I’ll let you know.”
The four of us synchronized, coupling Bluetooth earpieces with our cell phones and getting on a shared line. For this part, once we were clear of the garage and back on the sidewalk, we took our masks off. Paddy found a spot to lurk by the lobby doors, out of sight from the road, both bags at his feet. Tyrone circled the building. We’d spent the day doing as much recon as we could manage. While the restaurants on the first floor weren’t connected to the office complex, they were linked to each other; a heavy steel door, down a short flight of steps and behind a concrete wall, looked like a utility-access hatch. Locked, but nothing Tyrone couldn’t handle. Desi and I stood outside the darkened glass window of a Jamba Juice. Out in clear view, watching the occasional pair of headlights drift by. I focused on my breathing, slow and steady, keeping my nerves in check.
“I’m inside,” we heard Tyrone say, the earpieces crackling. “And just hit pay dirt. I’ve got electrical, comms, everything linked to the street-level restaurants.”
“Less yapping, more doing,” Paddy growled. “I’ve got my ass stickin’ out in the wind here.”
I motioned for Desi to shield me with her body, standing between me and the traffic as I fished out my loc
kpicks. Not much camouflage. I’d have to work fast. I ran a finger along the oilcloth case, gliding over a dozen picks in a rainbow of shapes and lengths, as I eyed the front door’s lock. I tugged out a pick and a tension rake, then crouched down, eye to the keyhole.
“How are we looking, Tyrone?” I murmured.
“Found the alarm box. Sixty seconds. Don’t move until I say go.”
My pick rasped along the pins, helping me to draw a map of the lock’s inner workings by sound and feel.
“Oh, evenin’, officer,” Paddy said. “Oh, me? Standing here with two bags of safecracking gear and a ski mask in my back pocket? Oh, I’m not doing anything suspicious at all—”
“Paddy, shut up. Dan, I’m almost in.”
So was I. The tumblers rolled, the lock teetering on the edge of surrender.
“Alarm’s cut,” Tyrone said. “Go!”
The lock clicked. I stood and shoved the handle forward in one smooth motion, Desi darting under my arm and slipping inside. I yanked the door shut, pocketed my picks, and walked away, fast.
“Desi’s inside. Tyrone, meet me back at the lobby doors.”
The three of us waited. I glanced up the steps at the heavy metal grate just behind two pairs of polished double doors. If Desi couldn’t pull out the stops and deliver, we were in for a long night. I didn’t rush her. Didn’t say a word.
“So what are we waiting for?” Paddy griped. “What’s she doin’ in there, anyway?”
“Wait for it,” I said.
Then a sound rustled over the earpiece, slow and slithering and serpentine. A faint, rattling hiss.
Paddy’s eyes went wide. “Aw, fuck me. What is she doing, Faust?”
I savored a swell of pride and bowed my head, putting two fingers to my temple.
“Hail to you, Kadru, mother of nagas,” I whispered, smiling. “We welcome you.”
The only response was a faint, indulgent chuckle. Then she went silent.
Ten minutes later, movement caught my eye. Desi, her mask on and moving fast, jogged across the lobby floor. She crouched down, unlatching the grate, and hauled it up and open before unlocking one of the doors from the inside. We scrambled to tug our masks into place and lug the duffel bags up the steps, one eye on the street as we hustled inside. Every second counted, but I still couldn’t resist pulling Desi into a quick, tight hug.
Full Metal Magic: An Urban Fantasy Anthology Page 27