Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
The second floor is a balcony of perimeter offices that look down at the open middle space on the first floor where the massive vault resides. It’s a poor security measure, but they don’t keep the lights on. Instead, they rely on ambient wall sconces on the second floor. It lets me stick to the shadows as I make my way to the staircase at the back of the vault. Every motion sensor I come to, I hit it with the spray Dozer provided, which coats the eye with a thin layer of opaque silicone, making it impossible to see anything if the jammer stops working. I peer over the balcony railing as I creep my way along, watching the vault guard sitting in a chair reading a magazine.
He’s not alert to the danger I present, but then why would he be? The Diamond Warehouse believes its valuables are adequately protected by having someone with a gun sit directly in front of the door. As a backup, it relies heavily on the magnetized alarm if that door does somehow open. Frankly, the people in charge of security have become complacent. But that is the sole reason most heists occur.
People don’t think it will happen to them, so they let their proverbial guard down.
I make it to the staircase, then silently descend. When I reach the bottom, I hug the long side of the vault, creeping toward the guard. There are three motion sensors along the way, and I give them each a shot of spray. However Dozer engineered the cans, the spray emits without the slightest hiss. At the corner, I can see the guard’s leg sticking out from where he sits in the chair.
Quietly inhaling a deep breath, I reach for the syringe in my utility belt. Frankly, this is the scariest part—knowing I have to physically attack this man to be able to access the vault.
I wait, keeping my breaths shallow and noiseless, while Saint handles the guard on the second floor.
It only takes a couple of minutes, but it seems like a lifetime as I wait for him to come down the stairs and move along the opposite side of the vault from me. Not taking my eyes off the guard’s leg in case he decides to move, I don’t see Saint. Instead, I have to trust he’s done his part.
And then I hear it… the sound of something hitting the wooden floor on the other side of the vault.
Saint’s distraction.
“Laurent?” the guard says hesitantly, presumably calling the other man’s name.
Silence.
The guard stands and I creep forward a bit, carefully peeking around the corner. He’s looking in the direction the sound came from, which means his back is to me.
He takes a hesitant step that way, not seeming overly alarmed as he’s still holding his magazine and doesn’t even move a hand toward his gun.
When he shuffles forward once more, it’s my cue to move, silently gliding up behind him. With absolutely no hesitation, I jab the needle into the side of his neck and depress the plunger. As William promised, the guard immediately goes down. I grab him as best I can to lower him silently to the floor.
I let out an audible sigh of relief, my heart hammering so hard it feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest. As I take in a few deep breaths, Saint appears from around the other corner of the vault.
Now onto what I consider the easy stuff… cracking the combo locks and removing the magnet plate. Way more up my alley than attacking someone with a syringe.
“You okay?” he murmurs as I drop to one knee to remove my backpack.
I nod as I take out the robotic arm, setting the pieces on the floor. Saint will put it together while I work on the combo locks. “That was a little scary.”
“You did great,” he replies as he kneels beside me. He unpacks the drill—ironically, it has a diamond bit—that will cut through the steel of the vault. It can’t be completed until after I finish the combos since I can’t have the competing noise messing me up.
We don’t talk, both having important work to complete. I straighten, move to the vault, and flex my fingers. Stepping in close, I put my ear right near the first combo wheel and place my fingers on it. Sucking in a breath, I then let it out slowly. I don’t breathe back in. Instead, I start to slowly turn the knob while I listen, letting my fingers feel for the tiniest sensation of the wheel sticking.
In less than a minute, I have the first number, which I whisper to Saint. “Twenty-nine.”
“Got it,” he replies. He’s in charge of keeping up with the numbers. Three wheels, three numbers each. I can’t hold all those in my memory and keep focused.