Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“How did you react?”
“I got the fuck back up and did my thing. Here’s my secret: I fall on my face all the time, but I just keep on going.”
He grunts and stops typing. “We’re in. You ready?”
I pull the Kevlar blanket off my back. “Watch this.” Then I shuffle out along the branch, moving like I’m on a balance beam, and toss it forward.
The blanket lands right on top of the barbed wire. It bends and flexes, and the branches wobble. I have to reach up and grab another branch to keep from falling over, and still one foot slips. I curse, just catching myself, and straighten up.
“You good?” he asks.
“All good,” I say and take two quick steps forward.
The branch bends precipitously. If I planned on staying, it would absolutely dump me out. But instead, I leap forward, twisting in mid-air so I can grab onto the other side of the blanket.
It goes perfectly. Exactly what I wanted. Except I didn’t really plan for when I slammed into the fence, and it hurts like hell. My face bashes up against the top of the metal, and I curse as pain flares in my mouth. I taste blood from where I bit my tongue, and my fingers barely hold onto the chain. I stay there, clinging to the side for a beat, catching my breath.
“Graceful,” Alexan says.
“Asshole.” I slowly climb down to the other side and brush myself off. “I’d love to see you do that.”
“There’s a reason I’m on this side of the job.” His tone gets more serious. “You have ten minutes. I’m in their security system right now. All the cameras are set to show a loop of the last hour, but don’t take any risks.”
“Where are the guards?”
“One’s patrolling the halls, and the other two are in the main monitoring room.”
“Better get moving then.”
I slip on a black surgical mask before hurrying across the parking lot toward the eastern side door. My lock picks are already in my hands as I reach it. A security camera blinks at me, a red light smiling.
“Wave hello,” Alexan whispers.
I smile and wiggle my fingers. “Hello, husband.” The camera moves as if nodding. “Show-off.”
I get the door open with ease and slip into a stairwell. Fong’s office is on the second floor. I head up, going as quietly as I can, and pause on the threshold before moving into a hallway.
The place really does look like any other suburban white-collar office space. There are cubes up ahead in a big open cluster and several conference rooms on the right and the left. I spot a break room and the bathrooms past there.
“Go straight to the cubes. Stay low and reach the hall on the other side. Take that to the end. His office is in the corner.”
I follow Alexan’s instructions. As I hurry, moving quietly, I can’t help but smile to myself. “Remember the first time we met?”
“Remind me.”
“When I broke into your house. This feels a lot like that.”
“I guess it does. Want to detour into an office and get yourself off on a desk for me?”
“Probably not a good idea.”
“But tempting?”
“Keep it in your pants.” I peek at a few of the desks. Children’s photos, calendars with scribbled notes, a little bamboo plant, and other signs of life are scattered all over. It’s hard to imagine actual people clocking in here.
I reach the hall on the other side and pause, listening, but it’s quiet.
“Guard is on the first floor,” Alexan says. “You’re clear. Get going.”
I hurry forward. Most of the doors are locked, though some were left open. I spot standard office layouts: desks, cabinets, and some windows. I reach the end and pause outside of a door with its own reception desk.
The lock is too easy. It’s almost like they wanted me to get in. I slip in and close the door behind me before I stride over to the desk, my heart racing with triumph.
“I’m inside,” I say and start browsing the shelves.
Jeremy Fong is an orderly man. He’s got books on management, books on business, and more than a few on programming. There are also stranger texts: several histories on Rome and a few on the Mongol Empire. There are some personal photos showing the guy I met at dinner with a cute little wife and a couple of young kids.
“Focus. You’re looking for a computer.”
“He’s got a laptop on his desk.”
“It won’t be that one.”
“How do you know?”
“Just trust me. Check the drawers.”
I’m about to tell him off, but I decide to listen for once. I open them up, and sure enough, I find a very small laptop buried under a couple of empty folders.
“I really hate it when you’re right,” I murmur, flipping open the lid. My fingers shake as I slip the thumb drive from my pouch. “What now?”