Chapter 37: Bonnie & Clyde - Part 3

As Mango exited the room, a tight lump formed in her chest.

If she wasn’t fast enough, John could be compromised. He could be captured, or worse.

Moving swiftly, she crept back to the end of the hall and slid open the painting slot. The one disguised eye slit in the portrait of Mary holding baby Jesus. John was still seated at the restaurant table.

A chef had approached him and was speaking to him about something but Mango couldn’t make out the words. Still, she could tell John had made contact. That meant all eyes would be on him.

Which gave her exactly the opening she needed. Mango turned and headed for the door at the end of the hall that led to the downstairs conference room. She slipped through it, entering a dark corridor that sloped downward with a narrow flight of stairs.

As she descended, voices floated up from below. She crept to the bottom and peeked around the corner. Bullock was right. There they were: a room full of operatives.

Rows of desks filled the space, and behind each one sat a broad-shouldered figure in a dark suit. Serious, hardened types. Some young, some old.

At the front of the room, a man pointed at a large projection screen. The pale glow from the screen was the only light source in the otherwise dim space. The image displayed was a picture of John.

And beside him were two others. His siblings. The man continued speaking. “This is the Nero family… or at least those currently fighting for control.”

He clicked a remote, and the slide changed.

“As far as we know, only Peter has been dispatched. This was reportedly done by our own operative, John, who has now gone rogue and somehow landed in the middle of this operational secret warehouse. The Neros are no stranger to this country. Their roots here run deep. Even still, I’m unaware of why he would come here specifically.”

The agents murmured among themselves.

“His sister, Jade, remains unaccounted for,” the speaker said. “And Peter’s body hasn’t been recovered even though we pulled his “buddy” from the water. This briefing is to get you all up to speed before we move to secure the target.”

Mango crouched deeper into the shadows, narrowing her eyes.

She whispered to herself, “Focus.”

The FOCUS spoke in her mind.

<<<>>>.

[Focus activated.]

<<<>>>

“One with the Shadows.”

<<<>>>

[Acknowledged.]

[Skil number 3, One with the Shadows (2): Activated.]

<<<>>>

Instantly, multiple light-traced paths appeared across the floor in her vision. It was guiding her movement, highlighting potential blind spots and dark zones but only in random spots.

<<<>>>

[Skill usage error.]

[Target not identified.]

[Where is the target?]

<<<>>>

Mango scanned the room, careful not to move too quickly.

She cursed silently. She’d recently deleted her Evaluate skill to make room for Shadow Step, trading her ability to detect object’s value for increased stealth mobility. She instantly regretted it, even though at the time, it was necessary.

Still, Evaluate would’ve told her exactly where the keys were. It would’ve highlighted everything’s prices and since it was an old unique iron key, it would've been very expensive.

Now, she had to rely on instinct. Her gaze drifted across the crowd… and then stopped.

There! Standing off to the far right side of the room, his arms crossed and jaw tight, was a tall, older man.

Salt-and-pepper hair. Steel-cut jawline. Eyes locked on the screen, never blinking.

Suddenly, he yelled out: “Hey! All of you pay attention! Memorize these faces. If John slips away now and turns back to his family, we lose our leverage. He cannot escape! Be sharp.”

The agents snapped upright in unison, tension flooding the room.

Mango nodded. He was definitely the person Bullock was talking about. He was in charge. And if he was the top dog then the keys were probably on him.

Focus, she thought.

<<<>>>

[Focus is currently active.]

<<<>>>

I’m trying to get to the man in charge. Activate Shadow Step and combine it. I don’t see any good paths.

<<<>>>

[Acknowledged.]

[Acquired Skill: Shadow Step (1) – Activated.]

[Searching… path found.]

<<<>>>

Her nerves felt like they buzzed for a moment. Then she felt light on her feet. The AI was shifting her weight for her. If only she had Shadow Step on her other jobs.

A glowing path appeared in her vision, glowing across the floor. She looked at it and noticed it went under the tables.

Are you serious? She thought. There’s no other way?

<<<>>>

[This path is the most optimal.]

[This allows being seen by the presenter who is looking at the back of the room.]

<<<>>>

Mango sucked her teeth and crouched low. She prayed that they didn’t turn the lights on.

Moving low to the floor, she followed the light-traced route from One with the Shadows. Her Shadow Step was still active, keeping her movements light and her presence near-silent.

But this was risky. Very risky. Each desk she passed presented a new threat: bouncing knees, shifting legs, and the occasional nervous twitch of a foot. One wrong move, one bump, and she’d be exposed.

She slid past the first table. Then the second. At the third, she froze. A man above her was looking down at his thigh, clearly texting someone. If she tried to pass him now, he’d see her.

She paused, then noticed a small piece of paper on the ground nearby. It seemed Mother Luck was on her side. She rolled the paper into a tight ball, peeked from under the table, and tossed it onto the arm of the person seated in front of the distracted agent.

“Really? What do you want?” the woman snapped, turning in irritation.

The man looked up from his phone, surprised. “I didn’t say anything,” he said.

“Then why did you throw a piece of paper at me?”

“No I didn’t.”

“Hey! Bart! Cathay!” barked the salt-and-pepper man on the side of the room. “You two pay attention.”

“Yes, sir,” they both said, returning to look at the presentation. Mango exhaled quietly, wiping the sweat from her brow. That was too close.

Focus, she thought again. Activate Sleight of Hand.

<<<>>>

[Acknowledged.]

[Now Activating skill: Sleight of Hand (4).]

<<<>>>

As a thief, it was one of her highest-level skills. She was a natural but even naturals could choke under pressure. She crept to the final row, where the salt-and-pepper man stood by the wall. He was laser-focused on the screen. She then saw it on his hip. The key ring, dangling from a holster on his hip.

Bullock was right. He looked like some kind of old-school sheriff with a Western-style iron ring of keys hanging by his side. It was strange, almost theatrical. But Mango didn’t care. Made it a lot easier for her to see everything.

Mango reached up. But the angle was wrong.

Her hand barely touched the ring and if she tugged too hard or made even a slight sound, the whole room would hear. The keys were loud, bulky, and jagged. Their sound alone could wake the dead. The Sleight of Hand interface lit up in her mind, displaying possible hand movements with success ratings.

<<<>>>

[Warning.]

[Difficulty: Extremely High]

[Best Move: 50% Success Rate]

<<<>>>

She exhaled nervously and rubbed some of the sweat on her hands off on her shirt. Only fifty percent chance of success. That was better than the others, which were marked at 90% failure or worse.

She then slid carefully out from under the desk, flattening herself against the wall. Now, crouched directly beside him, every inch of her body burned with tension.

If he or anyone looked down, just once, it would be over. John would be captured. And God only knew what would happen to her. She blinked hard and suddenly, the interface pulsed. The “50% move” blinked green.

Now or never. She slowly reached up. Pressed the metal keys together gently, muffling their sound. With her other hand, she rotated the ring, careful not to jostle the holster. It felt like she was disarming a bomb. Each fraction of movement sent a shock of adrenaline through her arms.

One full rotation.

She didn’t even dare breathe. Just one more.

Suddenly, he sniffed loudly.

Mango froze. Had he felt that? The ring tugged slightly. She stared up at him. But he didn’t move. Didn’t glance down. Didn’t shift. A long, silent blink of relief escaped from her face. Sweat started to sting her eyes.

Then, with one final twist, she unlooped the key ring.

It dropped off of him and almost out of her hand. Her hand shot out and caught it just before the keys could clang together. Tucking it tightly against her chest, she slid back under the desk and vanished into the shadows once more.

Now she had just three desks to crawl back past. One down. She slid beneath the second–

Pop!

Someone’s foot kicked her square in the stomach. If she made a sound, it was all over. If she hesitated for even a second, he would look under and see her. Caught in an instant. Mango’s thief instincts took over. She bit down on the urge to grunt and held her breath.

Before the agent could react, she slid beneath the next desk, the shadows swallowing her whole. Above her, the agent bent down, brows furrowed, and looked under the desk to see what he’d kicked. Nothing. He blinked, confused and then shrugged.

Mango stayed frozen, barely daring to exhale. The room was dark but not dark enough. If he saw any motion, it was over. The agent scanned left, then right. Then, for a moment, he looked directly where Mango was hiding.

A puff of dust from her slide tickled her nose. Her nostrils twitched an itch. Oh God, it was a sneeze. She prayed it would stop twitching. Once. Twice.

Don’t sneeze.

She squeezed her eyes shut, holding back the burning pressure in her sinuses.

Then the agent sat up and looked away. As soon as he turned, Mango rolled out from under the desk and moved for the stairs. She made it to the bottom, her foot hitting the first step—

“Ah-CHOO!”

The sneeze escaped. She instantly ducked behind the wall.

From around the corner she heard a voice:

“Bless you.”

“Huh?” said another agent. “I didn’t sneeze.”

“I thought you did.”

“Nope.”

They shrugged and looked back toward the screen. Mango exhaled sharply in relief and ascended the stairs. Back in the room with the safe, Bullock stood up straighter, eyebrows raised.

“Thank Christ it’s you,” he said. “Glad you’re not them. You’re probably my last shot at getting out of here.”

“Just so we’re clear,” Mango said, “we’re even. I save your ass, you get some cash. We’re square. Got it?”

Bullock grunted, then nodded. “Sure. Whatever. Wasn’t even you who took Peter away anyway, I guess. Tried to kill you. You tried to kill me. Getting me outta here makes us even. But don’t get cute with me later. I’ll remember. I won't come after you, but I never want to see you again.”

“Fine,” Mango said, rolling her eyes.

She unlocked his cell. Then walked to the safe.

Using the retrieved key, she turned the mechanism with a quick click. It opened up to reveal: $40,000 in cash, several pieces of jewelry, a few compact bags. It was gorgeous!

Mango grabbed a handful of the jewelry and slipped it into a small satchel, tucking it deep between her bra and her heart. She bit her lip. 40,000 beautiful big ones were staring her in the face. Her whole body was sweating. This was a decent score and something a thief like her couldn’t pass up. She could kill defenseless Bullock, take everything and then her and John could–

-Wait… John. Damn. Maybe just a taste. Then she loaded $10,000 in cash into a separate bag. She bit her lip and backed away.

“The rest is yours,” she said.

“Perfect,” Bullock grinned. “I’m gonna need supplies anyway. Those three-letter bastards took everything from me.”

As Mango turned back toward the computer terminal, She frowned. “Wait… what the hell?”

The device was running some sort of software. A background software that looks like it was finishing up a process.

“Did you touch this?” she asked Bullock.

“How would I have even done that,” Bullock replied, stuffing cash into a duffel. “You’re the only one who’s been in or out of here.”

“Then why is it still running a process?” she asked.

“No idea. It’s your magic toy,” he said.

She pulled the hacking device free. It beeped, then went silent. She put it away. No time to troubleshoot. She had bigger fish to fry. She’d gathered what she needed. Now came the complicated part: escaping.

She moved to the hallway and checked the eye slit in the painting. John was sitting in the restaurant. Almost finished eating.

As soon as he’s done, she thought, they’ll take him.

“What’s the hold-up?” came Bullock’s voice behind her.

“I’m planning our extraction,” she replied. Then she snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it!”

She turned to him. “I’m going into the restaurant, but I need you to do me one last favor.”

Bullock scoffed and folded his arms. “Another deal? Now, you’ll owe me.”

“Yeah, and if it weren’t for me, you’d be rotting in a CIA cell and thirty grand poorer.”

He grunted. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”