A grunt, through the earpiece—a cry of effort. A thud. Shouts—indistinct, but definitely Rafe’s voice.
“Rafe?” she whispered.
A crack, a buzz, then...nothing. Her breath shallowed out.
“Samira.” The voice was little more than a crackle—but it wasn’t Rafe’s.
“Jamie? Oh thank God. Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m right outside but I can’t...” His voice dissolved. She caught the wordFitz.
“I can’t hear you.” She walked to the window and drew the gauze back a fraction. No sign of him but the hotel’s awnings covered much of her view of the pavement. “Jamie?”
“I can’t really hear you, Samira, but if you can hear me...stuck outside a bit longer...he’s standing...entrance. Hold on. I’ll move...corner. Is this any better?”
“Yes, that’s better. Can you hear me?”
“Aye, but I’m going to look odd standing here talking to myself. What’s the update?”
She quickly filled him in and told him her room number. God, everything was shot to hell. No Rafe, no Holly, an impenetrable vault. From the security tent below, the unmistakable head of Fitz stepped out, a phone to his ear. He looked up, and she shrank back—not that he’d be able to see her.
“Fitz is out there,” she said.
“I know. He’s patrolling the bloody tent. So what’s this step three?”
“Third-factor ID. It’s biometric. Not justsomething you knowandsomething you havebut alsosomething you are. This is not the security you use for your vacation photos.”
“What is it, a fingerprint?”
She sat at the laptop. “Or an iris scan or a... Oh God, it’s asking for a facial scan.”
“Can you use a photo of him?”
“It has to be 3-D.”
“A 3-D printer?”
“Got one on you?”
“Could we...?”Crackle.
“Jamie, I’m losing you.” Static. Shit. “Jamie?” The laptop clock ticked over another minute. “Jamie? Rafe?”
Fuck it. They couldn’t count on Fitz giving up sentry duty anytime soon, leaving Jamie stranded outside. Rafe and Holly were God knew where. She stared at the clock. In thirty-two minutes they’d all be permanently screwed, along with her parents, Tess and Charlotte. She had to stop waiting for someone else to breeze in and make everything better.Webs of the spider.She tapped the laptop casing. How could she make this happen, alone?
She got to work, her hands tap-dancing over the keyboard, conscious of every precious minute that passed. Jamie remained silent.
Finally, she pushed the computer off her lap and rubbed her face, cycling her new plan through her head, probing it for bugs, defects, oversights. She walked to the window.
“Jamie?” Nothing. Fitz was still on his phone, arms crossed, breath puffing out as fog. “Jamie?” Silence. “I wish I had your confidence,” she whispered.
You do.
I don’t. But I’m doing this anyway.
She walked to the bedside table, picked up the phone and dialed a room number. Her hand shook so much she twice pressed the wrong button and had to start over.
A gruff voice answered. “Yes?”
