Bonnie & Clyde - Part 2

Mango slipped silently down the creaking staircase and found herself standing at the edge of a small attic.

Even in the dim light, she could make out the shape of a dusty window at the far end. Sunlight filtered through, creating a faint beam that cut across the otherwise shadowy space.

The attic was barren. At least, that’s how it looked at first. Just a few scattered lockboxes coated in thick dust.

Don’t look, Mango. She told herself. You’re not curious.

Curiosity tugged at her thief instinct. She stepped toward one of the boxes and popped it open.

She knelt and opened them one by one. Inside was a bunch of CIA equipment. Gear, a few gadgets and ammo. More gear. Restraints. Steel handcuffs. Electric prods. Blades and even some tools meant for interrogation.

“Well…” she said to herself with a shrug. “If I can’t walk away with the cash, I might as well stock up.”

Mango slipped several knives into her holsters and belt. Then a few extra into her boots. She grabbed handfuls of ammo before heading toward the center of the attic floor.

A square opening revealed the top of the pull-down staircase that led to the floor below. The wooden steps had already been let down.

She crouched low and listened. Voices drifted upward. Two males that were close.

She moved silently to the edge of the attic opening, took a moment to tie her hair back with a band from her wrist, and peered carefully over the edge.

Two guards stood below.

They were dressed in dark suits, talking casually. “Man, I’m due for a raise,” one complained. “All this bull crap with reports and files and nothing ever happens.”

“Yeah,” the other agreed. “We bust our asses 24/7, and it never feels like enough. Just paperwork and headaches.”

Even the CIA, apparently, couldn’t escape the weight of a nine-to-five grind.

Mango slid back into the attic.

FOCUS, she thought.

<<<>>>

[FOCUS system activated.]

<<<>>>

Activate talent: Knife Shade.

<<<>>>

[Talent “Knife Shade” activated.]

<<<>>>

Still crouched in the attic shadows, she inhaled and then gave a sharp, loud whistle.

Below, the guards fell silent.

“What was that?” one asked.

“Let’s go check it out,” the other replied.

Mango moved quickly, ducking behind a stack of ammo crates.

Use skill: One With the Shadows.

<<<>>>

[Skill “One With the Shadows” Level 2: Activated.]

<<<>>>

Her form seemed to blur into the gloom, emerald eyes the only thing catching any light, like a jungle cat. The FOCUS AI outlined her path.

The guards ascended the attic stairs cautiously, weapons drawn, creeping as softly as they could manage.

“You heard that, right?” one whispered.

“Yeah, of course I did,” he said.

SLAM!

The folding stairs to the attic suddenly jerked up and locked back into place.

“What the hell—?”

Before they could react, two knives spun through the air and slammed into the trapdoor, pinning the foldable stairs tightly shut. The guards pounded on the sealed entrance, banging and yelling for backup.

“Hey!” one of them shouted. “Open up! Downstairs! Let us out!”

Mango stood in the shadows, a slow smile spreading across her face. “That should keep them busy for a while.”

The fact that these men, stationed in an Italian restaurant in Italy, all spoke clear, perfect English? It only confirmed what she suspected. This was a CIA blacksite. The “restaurant” was just a front.

Walking down the hallway, Mango kept her footsteps light and her body close to the wall. The air was cool and still, broken only by a faint commotion echoing from around the corner.

She crept forward carefully and peeked around. The hall was mostly empty, just a long row of doors. But the sound was definitely coming from the very last one at the end.

At the far end of the corridor was a door with an eye slit. Mango crept forward and gently opened the slit, just wide enough to look through.

From this angle, she had a direct view of the restaurant's main floor outside. Her green eyes scanned until she saw John. He was being led to a table by one of the servers. In the mirror across the room, she could see what she was really looking out of: an old, faded painting of the Virgin Mary holding baby Jesus.

She quickly shut the slit.

If John had just been seated, that meant she had only about five minutes, if that, before someone approached him. They didn’t have a real escape plan. It was like John trusted her to improvise everything.

That feeling was new. Unsettling.

Usually, the people Mango tried to kill didn’t show her this much trust.

Then again, they had lied to each other plenty already. Somehow, that made it easier to rely on him. She shook the thought out of her head. Not now. Focus.

<<<>>>

[FOCUS activated.]

<<<>>>

Not now!

She tested the nearest door, and it was just a broom closet. The second door opened to a small interrogation room. Blood stained the floor. Faint drag marks told of a struggle. Nothing worth investigating further.

The third door had voices behind it. She knelt and peered beneath. Shadows moved across, breaking up the light. Someone was inside. She left that one alone.

Then, at the last door, she found something promising.

It opened to a narrow staircase descending into what looked like a lower-level office or secure storage. The air changed as soon as she opened it. It was colder. Not part of the restaurant as it led in a different direction. She left that alone. Best not to get stuck down there.

The last door she opened, she saw papers covering the walls. Wanted posters, crime scene photos, and clippings from international newspapers.

In the center of the far wall sat a heavy safe, and next to it, a high-end CIA-grade terminal.

This had to be it. She slipped inside.

There was even a small barred enclosure in the corner, like a holding cell, but it was empty except for some lumps of clothes that she could barely make out in the back.

Mango darted to the safe, checking for a keypad. Nothing. Just a manual lock with no clear way in. She sucked her teeth. Might as well get the computer pinpoint started.

She pulled Jade’s phone-like hacking device from her belt pouch and connected it to the computer. The screen flickered, then it unlocked.

Bingo.

Again, the device didn’t have any complicated code. She found it strange, but didn’t slow down.

Lines of classified data streamed before her eyes. CIA travel logs, funding allocations, intercepted communications, operative movement reports.

Her heart pounded. This was the mainframe that she was looking for. To a thief like Mango, this was pure gold. A digital treasure trove. She could see every covert operation, every agent’s file, every mission and off-the-book expense.

If she had more time, she’d copy everything. Sell it and become rich! But she didn’t have time, nor a drive.

Yet… something pulled at her. She had to know. The truth about John. Was he really who he said he was? She typed his name. A file opened: John Nero. She scanned it quickly.

He had once been in the Economics Division, just like he’d told her. Joined the CIA at sixteen. Recruited in secret. He hadn’t sold out his own family to join. Instead, he’d given intel about a rival mafia faction instead.

Mango frowned. For a guy who supposedly hated his family, it was odd he hadn’t turned them in. Was it loyalty? Pride? Fear?

The file continued.

He was recently reassigned as a field agent, operating under the codename: Agent Raven.

Mango scoffed. That codename was so dramatic. But still… he hadn’t lied about that part. Not the job. Not his role. Not even how young he was when he joined.

Maybe he just didn’t know how to tell her.

Maybe… he’d been telling the truth all along.

Whatever the case, the weight that had been sitting in her chest loosened just a little.

She let out a quiet breath. She was just about to stand when a sound cut through the silence.

A deep, guttural groan echoed from the holding cell. The same cell she thought was empty.

From the shadows, a voice slurred into the light. “Ugh… What now? What the hell do you want from me this time?”

Then the figure stepped forward, and Mango’s body was struck still.

It was Bullock!

He looked terrible, though. His eyes sunken, face bruised and swollen. His clothes were generic, plain, clearly whatever scraps the CIA gave him after fishing him out of the sea.

The real question wasn’t how he looked. It was how he survived. He was tossed off a moving ship in the middle of the ocean!

Bullock’s eyes widened in disbelief as soon as he saw her. “You?” he hissed. “How are you here? What are you doing?”

Mango rushed to the bars, putting a finger to her lips. “Shhh! Shut up! Don’t say a word.”

“Or what?” Bullock sneered. “You gonna kill me? You already tried, and you murdered a man I considered a son.”

Mango’s eyes narrowed. She pulled a knife from her side holster with a fluid flick of her wrist. “Don’t push me,” she whispered. “I’m armed, and I’m in no mood. I can silence you for good right now.”

Bullock backed away from the bars, out of reach. “Maybe you could, but do you think you could do it before I scream? Even if you did… someone downstairs would hear the thud when I hit the floor. And you don’t have the keys to get in here, so the second they check, they’d come running.”

Mango sucked her teeth, frustrated. He was right. And he knew it.

“Well,” she said, slipping the knife back into place. “If you must know… it wasn’t personal.”

She turned away, scanning the room again. “It was just business. I’m here to crack open that safe.”

Bullock laughed. A low, broken sound, his voice strained from screaming. “Good luck with that,” he said. “That’s an old-school vault. No keypad, no chamber lock. Just an ironclad analog lock. You’ll need the actual key. No lock pick in the world’s getting through that.”

Mango rushed to the safe, crouched beside it, and examined the front. Damn it, he wasn’t lying.

The big decorative lock wheel on the front was useless. It was just for show. The real lock was low and to the left, barely visible. A small, sturdy keyhole carved into thick black iron.

She clicked her tongue. If she had been properly prepared for this job and had all her tools, this wouldn’t have been a problem. However, old-school iron lock picks weren’t something she usually carried around.

“Too bad,” Bullock said. “Now it’s my turn to ruin your life the way you ruined mine.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He stepped toward the bars, ready to shout.

“Wait!” Mango called out, spinning back toward him. “Don’t do that. I’m trying to stop the CIA from acquiring the satellite!”

Bullock raised an eyebrow. “What do I care?” he snapped. “I’d rather see you in a cell next to mine than anywhere else.”

Mango’s mind raced. Threats weren’t working. Maybe…

Focus, she thought. Is there any skill that I have that might have a persuasion buff?

<<<>>>

[No.]

<<<>>>

Damn… do you have any suggestions?

<<<>>>

[Try offering him something that he would want.]

<<<>>>

“What if I get you out of here?” she said quickly.

Bullock stared at her for a long second, then laughed. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“Easy,” she said, thinking faster than she ever had. “John’s here. Downstairs.”

“John?” Bullock’s face twisted with confusion. “Wait… so both of you are breaking into a CIA cover site? Are you trying to get arrested?”

“Listen, I don’t know how you survived, and honestly, I don’t care. Must’ve not been your time. Maybe you got lucky.”

She moved close to the bars and grabbed them. “John is creating a distraction right now. When he does, we’ll be leaving, and you could too.”

Bullock snorted. “Get away? How? I’m locked in here. Even if there’s chaos downstairs, I can’t just walk out. There are agents crawling all over this place. Front door, back door. It doesn’t matter. They’ll spot me instantly.”

Mango bit her lip, thinking.

He wasn’t wrong. But if she could find that key, if she could turn this moment into leverage. Maybe, just maybe, she could make this mess work in her favor.

“What if we cause a big commotion?” she said. “Lead them out on a chase. Create a scene loud enough to pull every agent out front. I’m talking about a big spectacle in front of civilians that puts them in danger. They’d be all hands on deck. While they’re distracted chasing us, you sneak out no problem. Just… don’t go through the attic. I pinned two guys up there. They’re still breathing, but they’re pissed.”

A wide grin crept across Bullock’s bruised face. “I like that plan,” he said. “I’m free, and your ass is grass! But how do you plan to pull it off?”

“Before we get to that,” Mango said, “how do you know this safe needs a giant iron key and not some sort of other mechanism? They do have a wheel on there.”

“They’ve been interrogating me since they dragged me out of the river,” Bullock said, rubbing the side of his swollen face. “I haven’t said a damn thing, obviously. So they brought in one of their top guys. Some ugly, smug bastard. Salt and pepper hair with a low cut beard. Carries a ring of keys like some cartoon sheriff. Oversized, heavy, rattling mess. One of ’em’s definitely the key to that vault.”

Mango nodded slowly. “So, I get the ring, I get the safe open. Simple enough.”

“Simple,” Bullock echoed with a dry laugh. “Except for the part where the place is crawling with agents and you’ve got no idea where the key is.”

“True,” Mango said. “One of the rooms up here is full of people. I’m not exactly dying to crash a meeting and draw more heat.”

“No, no, no.” Bullock shook his head. “That room? That’s the surveillance hub. And these CIA morons didn’t install cameras in this back section, only in the front and inside the restaurant.”

Mango raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“They only wired up that section. That’s it.”

“That sounds suspicious,” Mango said, squinting. “Why only the restaurant? Why not the exterior? Why not the holding cell? You're a CIA prisoner. Shouldn’t someone be watching you?”

“Well, first of all,” Bullock said, “if they had cameras back here, you’d have been caught already. And second…”

He stepped closer to the bars, his battered face illuminated faintly by a flickering bulb.

“The reason the CIA took over this spot is because it’s a known mafia meeting ground. These people don’t whisper in alleys. They sit down, eat pasta, drink wine, and make murder contracts over a delicious Sunday dinner.”

He chuckled, and his two old bullet-mark dimples deepened into a smile. “Honestly? Sounds like heaven.”

Mango rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, I’m sure you’d love to live out The Sopranos. Where’s the damn key?”

“Go through the door that’s across from this one. It leads down a staircase.”

“I remember that,” she said.

“Good,” Bullock said. “At the bottom is a conference room. That’s where they give their CIA briefings and target updates. They’re down there now. I know it because they’re not up here kicking the crap out of me.”

He cracked a weak grin.

“And just like every boring presentation, the lights are off while the screen’s up. Hopefully, they’re paying attention too. You’ve got maybe five minutes to slip in and snag the keyring, somehow quietly. I’d do it before they wrap up and come back for round two.”

Mango gave a loud sigh. It’s not exactly how she planned this going down. Bullock could still be lying to her, but then he’d be stuck in here. It was the best plan for now.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll grab the keys, unlock your cage, and you escape during the distraction.”

Bullock rubbed his hands together, eyes gleaming. “I get to walk free... and your goose is cooked. This sounds like a perfect plan to me.”

Mango turned sharply and started down the hallway, her pace quick and silent.

She knew exactly what she'd just done. She’d made a deal with the devil. But what choice did she have? John was counting on her.

And right now, his freedom and his life were in her hands. She had to move fast. She didn’t know how long he could distract them, and anything could happen.