—
Rapidly, angrily, she prepared for work.
At 14:20, she returned to find everything in disarray—neatly organized stacks upended. Papers scattered. Gianni shuffled through a pile of old photos.
Mac, thumbing the contents of a manila folder, smiled at her.
“This is a great location,” he said. “Center of the city. Good access. Good lookout points. Good security options.”
“Yeah,” said Nikki. “Time to go.”
“Hey.” He leaned in. “Your father says you need my help with biometrics. Facial recognition.”
“I don’t want your help,” she said. “Everyone needs to leave. I’m going to work.”
Raoul, deep in a notebook, didn’t look up. “Go ahead. I’ll lock up when we leave.”
“You don’t have a key,” Nikki reminded him, then, turning to Gianni and Mac: “You need to go.”
Gianni, who seemed not to hear her, guffawed. “Check this out.”
He held up a photo of the two of them as children at the seashore. Eight-year-old Nikki had built a sandcastle, while a scrawny ten-year-old Gianni with a bush of curly hair stood over it with a grin and a bucket of water.
“What a little chunker you were,” Gianni said.
Her father exhaled loudly.
“Give me your key, Nina,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll make a copy. You should have more copies.”
Nikki hesitated. Had he been alone, she might have agreed, but no way was she leaving Gianni and Mac unsupervised.
“If I give you my key,” she told Raoul, “you’ll need to meet me at midnight after my shift.”
She watched his face as he did the calculation. Her early-bird father sighed, and stood.
—
Despite her best efforts, it was another twenty minutes before she herded them out.
At the door, Mac made a show of chivalry, holding up her jacket and bag.
“Maybe we should have dinner and talk things over,” he murmured.
Nikki snatched her things from him.
“No.”
—
As she drove them down the stairs, she noticed Gianni carrying a plastic grocery sack stuffed with papers.
She asked about it, and he yanked it out of reach.
“You got the whole house,” he whined. “And you’re griping about me bringing home a few mementos?”
She didn’t have time to argue.
Beside her, Raoul was talking. “Just give Mac your photo. He can access NATO facial recognition databases.”
