“Five minutes that could make all the difference. The guards’ shift is in half an hour.”
“Please, just run it again. I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling about it. Please.”
Aydan sighs. “James, Marci wants to run her program again. She says she has a bad feeling about it, thinks the numbers may have changed since the last time we checked. It’ll take at least five minutes to rerun.”
“Shit, shit,” Blare curses.
“Quiet,” James says. “Put Marci on.”
Aydan hands me his headset, digs for another one and puts it on.
“Marci, we have no time to waste,” James says.
“I know, I know, but something doesn’t feel right. I don’t know why, but I think we should run it again.”
“Are you sure?” James asks.
“Yes,” I say firmly.
“All right, do it,” James orders.
Aydan cracks his neck, then clicks on the button that runs my program. I watch, chewing on my lower lip. The computer screen shows an hourglass as my code flies through the list of possible six-digit combinations, checking them against the encryption algorithm.
The minutes drag by and I’m drenched in sweat, tasting blood from biting so hard on my lip. Blare curses, spewing expletives like a public toilet spews bacteria. Aydan stares at the screen from under tense eyebrows and taps on the keyboard’s edge using all ten fingers. I want to yell at him to stop, but instead I bite harder and draw more blood. The last few seconds are more than physically painful. My body is so tense that my muscles are literally working out.
When the last few seconds tick down, I feel myself relax. A brand-new set of numbers appears on the screen. Aydan curses.
“The numbers are in. They’re different,” he announces.
James clears his throat. “Marci, can we trust these new numbers?”
“Ha, if you run that stupid program of hers again, you’ll probably get a different answer.” Blare voices what I’m sure everyone else is thinking.
But the weird feeling I had before is now gone. I know my program is foolproof. I know the numbers are good. “You can trust them. They will work,” I say with as much confidence as if I was stating my name.
“Call them out, Aydan,” James says.
Aydan begins, intoning every number with a question mark at the end, as if he expects each one to be the last one before the keypad auto-destructs. James punches the buttons with confidence, though. He either trusts me or his nerves are made of steel. It’s probably the latter, but I can’t help but hope to have earned some of his trust.
When James enters the last number, there’s a collective sigh of relief as the door clicks open. I feel like standing and doing a little dance, but a gasp from Rheema and a few choice curse words from Blare keep me in my seat.
“What the hell?” Oso exclaims.
Rheema enters the room. Her camera suddenly shows revolving walls as she turns round and round. I feel dizzy as I try to make sense of what seems to be an empty room.
“It’s all gone,” Rheema says, coming to a stop. “Everything was here just yesterday morning. I don’t understand. It’s all gone.”
Chapter 39
James approaches one of the walls, stares at a set of electric plugs and a few loose cables. “Where did they take everything?” he asks in a low, rumbling tone. He whirls to face Rheema. “Think, Rheema. It’s still in the building, right? It has to be.”
“I … I don’t know.”
“Think,” James repeats in a lower tone.
“Um …” I hear Rheema’s deliberate intakes of breath. “Wait!” Her face lights up with an idea. “I’ve seen some activity in the north side. A few weeks ago, I noticed some new people in that area.”
“Let’s go.” James runs out of the room. “Which way?”
“Left,” Rheema calls out.
After rushing through a few more corridors, going deeper into the guts of the building, Rheema leads everyone to a locked door. “Maybe here,” she says, sounding unsure.
James tries the handle. “It’s locked.” He examines the door carefully. “Are you sure, Rheema? This is just a normal lock.”
Rheema doesn’t respond. I imagine her shrugging.
“I can pick it.” Oso says.
“This is messed up! Nothing is going as planned. What if when you open that door it triggers an alarm?” Blare says.
“It’s possible, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take. We have to get to the cryo freezers!” James responds.
Blare punches the wall with her fist. “They knew we were coming. It’s a trap.”
Man, I wish she would shut up for just one minute. Every comment out of her mouth is nothing but demoralizing.
“Uh, so … what do we do?” Oso asks.
Through Rheema’s camera, I see James rub his neck, his face grim as he considers what to do. “I’ll pick the lock. Aydan, keep your eyes open on the outgoing messages, alarm, gate status, the roads, anything to help detect any movement right after we get past this door. Understood?”
“Understood,” Aydan says. Our eyes flick to the monitors that display the clinic’s adjacent roads, shown from Xave and Clark’s cameras. Both streets look clear, dead actually, since 4 A.M. isn’t exactly a time of the day the reproductively-challenged rich and famous even know exists. I doubt any of them get up before 10.
James drops on one knee and gets to work on the lock. After a few seconds, he stands, takes a deep breath and turns the knob. Complete darkness greets him on the other side. He fumbles for a switch and finds one. White fluorescent light floods the space, revealing a flight of stairs that heads down.
“The basement,” James says. “Any activity on the cameras, the gate?”
“None,” Aydan responds.
“C’mon, let’s hurry.” The crew runs downstairs, skipping two and three steps at a time.
At the bottom, they encounter a cramped space filled with building materials and tools. Several piles of metal sheets, bars and assorted parts litter the floor. Most interestingly, there’s a huge, thick steel door leaning against a side wall. From the looks of it, they’re in the middle of installing what appears to be a huge-ass bank vault.
After a quick glance around, both monitors focus on a wide metal door set opposite the building materials. James approaches and examines it up close, first the right side then the left. When he straightens, he laughs one short, ironic laugh.
“What?” Blare asks.
“Cylinder locks. Two on each side, meant to be open in sync, I’m sure,” James says, shaking his head.
“So what’s the big deal? Oso also knows how to pick a lock, he can help you,” Blare puts in.
“These aren’t just any type of lock. They’re the best that company makes and they require a special key. Have you ever picked one like this, Oso?” James’s voice is doubtful, yet hopeful.
“Uh.” Oso bends forward and examines one of the locks. “I don’t think so. Sorry.” The big guy’s face twists with guilt.
“It’d take too long to show you how.” James presses two fingers in between thick eyebrows and screws his eyes shut. “The irony is just … too much. Two temporary locks stand in our way.”
I’m holding my head between my hands in disbelief. We came this far to be thwarted by some ancient technology. Whatever happened to leaving sophisticated computers in charge of things? Computers that allow genius hackers to unlock any door from the comfort of their vans? This is ridiculous.
Blare takes off her backpack, drops it on the floor and gets on one knee. “Let’s just blow it up then.”
“It’s no use.” James pounds on the door. It sounds as solid as concrete. “The door looks pretty thick and heavy. And if I know anything about Elliot and the way he and his people do things, if we blow the locks up, the door will seal from the inside, triggering an alarm that will give away our presence before we’re able to destroy what we came here to destroy.”
“How about the walls? We could
blow them up.” Blare’s hands are busy, pulling out tools from her pack.
“No, Blare. They’ve built this whole area as a vault. Look at the door they’re getting ready to install.”
“I know.” Oso puts a hand on the huge hunk of metal that looks like a huge submarine hatch, rather than something you’d find at a medical facility. “You’d think this is Fort Knox.”
James continues, “The walls have to be reinforced concrete. We would need several charges to do any real damage. By then, the guards would be on us.”
“What if we drill through them first? Huh? What about that?” Blare looks up at James, her voice sounding more desperate with each question.
“It won’t work.” James’s tone is steady, even though we face defeat.
“So we came all this way for nothing?!” Blare yells in anger. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Shit!” Aydan exclaims. “You mean two stupid, low-tech locks are going to stop us? You’ve got to be kidding me.” He slams a fist against the side of the van.
It has to be a joke, a big fat joke the cosmos is playing on us. What kind of criminal doesn’t know how to pick a lock, no matter what kind?! But I guess that’s just it, we’re not criminals. We’re just a bunch of regular fools trying to save the world. If only Oso or Rheema or … wait a minute.
“What type of locks are they?” I ask.
Aydan looks at me, annoyed. His expression asking Does it matter?
“Evva,” James responds.
Oh crap. “I—I think I know how,” I say.
“What?” Aydan is shaking his head, probably thinking that I’m full of it.
James points his camera to one of the locks. “Take a close look at it,” he says. “Have you picked one like this before?”
The sight of it conjures old memories. “Yes, a similar one,” I whisper.
The image of Dad’s desk takes shape in my mind. One of the drawers had a lock that looked very similar to the one on the monitor. After Dad died, I got obsessed with finding out what was inside that desk. I searched the house for the key but was never able to find it. Later I discovered Mom kept it in a safe deposit box at the bank.
I begged her to let me have it, but she refused, said she was thinking about selling the ugly old thing. I pleaded with her not to do it. She refused me that, too. Before she got around it, though, I taught myself how to pick that lock. I cried all night after I found the drawers empty. Mom had taken everything out, and I can’t help but think there was something in there she didn’t want me to see. Some piece of Dad that was meant for me, something she was too selfish to share. I suspect his will and testament was there, spelling in clear legal terms that the house was mine—also some of his medical files. I distinctly remember him puzzling over charts and numbers, especially after he ran lab tests on me, trying to figure out what ailed me. If he’d only known.
“Aydan,” James’s voice is clear, full of command and poise. “Get her in here.”
Chapter 40
“I can’t let her in,” Aydan protests. “I can only deactivate the cameras twice. I—I didn’t plan for more than that.”
“You mean your hack is fixed, hard-coded?” I can’t help but laugh. Aydan shoots me a poisonous stare.
I know it’s wrong to call him out. This is a tough spot for all of us, but still. I’m tired of his pompous, there’s-no-hacker-better-than-me attitude. I can’t believe he didn’t plan for hiding more than four minutes of camera activity. Two minutes to get in and two to get out would have sufficed if everything had gone as planned; but really, when do things ever go as you expect? Has he even heard of Murphy’s Law? I don’t know what he had to do to accomplish even those two small time windows, but it seems to me he should have planned for more. One can never be too cautious when it comes to hacks, especially those that put people’s lives at risk.
Quick to understand, James starts calling the shots. “Marci, are you up for coming in here?”
“Yes, I want to help.” I don’t know where this bravery is coming from, but it’s too late to back out now. I may as well go all-in.
“Can you scale the wall?”
“I think so.”
“I don’t like this,” Blare growls.
“Do you have a better idea?” James asks her.
Blare throws down the tools in her hands and paces around the room.
“All right. Aydan, deactivate the cameras for her.”
“You realize that on your way out—when I deactivate them a third time—the alarm will go off and you risk getting caught?” Aydan argues.
“We knew this mission would be different. There’s no turning back. We’ll take that risk,” James says.
“Okay, I’ll deactivate them, but don’t blame me later.”
James tells me where to get a lock-picking set, rope and other supplies.
When I’m ready, Aydan pins a camera to my jacket. “The longer we stay around, the greater our chances of getting caught.” He shakes his head. “I personally think this is pushing it. But I guess I’m not the boss. Anyway, just keep running. Don’t stop. I’ll deactivate the perimeter as soon as you get close to the wall. Okay?”
I nod and turn to leave.
“Marci.” Aydan puts a hand on my elbow. “Be careful.” His voice is a low whisper and it breaks a little, as if it’s too hard to show that he cares somehow.
I leave without a word and move toward the wall at top speed. My heart pumps hard as my legs trek through heavy undergrowth and over uneven terrain. I try not to think about what I’m doing, and what would happen if we were to be captured.
Closing my mind to anything else, I concentrate on my body. I relish my agility and strength until the wall comes into view. Then I focus on the task ahead. Quickly, I judge the wall. It looks about nine or ten feet tall. Without stopping, I run straight toward the barrier, building momentum.
When I’m only a few feet away, I jump toward it. As my foot hits the brick, I use the built-up force to propel myself upward. Arms extended straight over my head, I reach for the top. The force of my jump is enough to take my fingers past the target by a couple of inches. When gravity claims me and I start coming down, I grip the edge. I move my feet fast, walking up the wall, using the remaining energy to scale the obstacle.
Muscles rippling, I clamber to the top and, without stopping to think, I jump down. Ducking my head, I roll over my back and keep spinning until I’m on my feet and running away.
I head straight for the front door, looking in all directions. Suddenly, I spot a dark shape next to one of the lampposts on the west end of the building about forty yards away. I duck and hide behind Rheema’s car, by one of the back tires. My lungs are pumping and I struggle to take deep, silent breaths.
One inch at a time, I slide up and peek through one of the back windows. On the other side, I can see a man smoking a cigarette. I freak out for a split second, wondering if he can sense me. But my head isn’t droning, so he’s either too far or he’s not an Eklyptor. I pray he doesn’t walk this way, hope he’s almost done with his cigarette.
Time is ticking down and the man continues sucking away on his cancer stick. Anger brews inside me. Hurry up! I’ve no idea how long he’s been out here or what he will do once he’s done watching into the night through the billowing cloud of smoke. I take another peek, try to determine how long his cigarette is. I curse under my breath. It looks as if he just got started.
“Marci, what are you doing?” Aydan says through the earpiece. “Only twenty seconds left.”
I take a deep breath and decide to go for it. Staying low, I tiptoe from my hiding place, tentatively at first, my eyes glued on the man’s back. I’m only about twenty yards from the entrance, where a wall recess will provide the perfect hiding spot.
Halfway there, I notice Oso waiting for me behind the glass door. He holds his hands palm-up in question, wondering why I’m skulking about. From where he stands, he can’t see the guard. Getting braver, I pick up my pace.
When I reach a pathway lined by immaculately hedges, a voice reaches my ears carried by the wind.
“Got another one?”
I look to the left and notice a second guard walking toward the first one. The smoker starts to turn and I know he will spot me if I don’t do something. Panicked, I drop to the ground in a sort of drop push-up. The bushes hide me from view and give me a perfect path to sneak to the entrance, which I do in a military crawl.
After reaching the recess, I stand and press my back to the wall. I point and mime the word “Guards” to Oso. He nods in understanding, then drags the still unconscious Dr. Schmitt to the thumb scanner on the inside. The door slides open with the smallest whooshing sound.
Oso and I exchange no words. He simply drops the doctor and takes off at a clipped jog. I follow right behind. Once at the basement door, he waves me in and I trot downstairs with a surprisingly purposeful gait.
The doubts that gave me pause before seem to be gone now, and I’m not really sure why. Perhaps it’s seeing what lengths AR-Tech goes to protect its spawn creations. Or maybe it’s finally having the opportunity to act, instead of just sit on my ass. Could be that it’s easier to judge others when one isn’t an active party. No doubt I’m involved now. I’m here to help, to be a real part of IgNiTe’s war against Eklyptors.
Suddenly, the possibility of failure is unthinkable. I must succeed, because the thought of innocent babies coming into the world without ever standing a chance at being human twists my gut into knots. If I had set out to imagine the most wicked, despicable thing possible, I could never have come up with this nightmare. Human minds trapped, aware of their imprisonment every second of their existence. It’s like being born an eagle but never allowed to soar across the sky. Worse yet, what about those lucky few who might escape that fate to end up just like me, haunted by shadows, pain and loneliness?
There’s no doubt, now. I’m meant to be here. This fight is my own.
Chapter 41
Blare looks up from a crouching position on the floor, her backpack’s contents scattered in a semicircle in front of her. She offers me a quick, contemptuous glance and continues her work. I stare at her hands as they deftly prepare what looks like enough explosives to blow up Mount Rushmore. And for the first time, I wonder if Blare is a nickname. I remember Elliot calling her Veronica at the party. Is that her real name?
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