But instead of laptops, cheap jewelry, handguns and stolen cars, this place specialized in something a little more, well,special.
Instead of laptops, they dealt with hard drives full of state secrets. Instead of cheap jewelry, they dealt with priceless museum pieces. Instead of handguns, they sold things like rocket launchers, missiles, and torpedoes, and instead of stolen cars it was tanks, and even the odd submarine.
None of this was in Trent’s usual wheelhouse – this was all stuff for human law enforcement to deal with, and his work dealt strictly with shifters and shifter crimes. The only reason he was here was because Equitix, knowingly or unknowingly, had gotten its hands on something that very much concerned shifters: a hard drive with the name and location of almost every undercover shifter agent around the world, from every country.
Obviously, it was something people were extremely keen not to have fall into the wrong hands – and in this case,the wrong handswas almost everybody.
Trent hadn’t been briefed on whether the people at Equitix knew that shifters existed, or whether they simply thought it was a list of government secret agents. No one was sure who they’d bought it from. The only thing anyone knew was that they had to stop them from selling it.
And that was what Trent was here to do.
After a lot of careful surveillance, the location of the hard drive had been narrowed down to this office building – carefully locked away in the most high-tech safe money could buy, waiting for a buyer with deep enough pockets to afford what Trent was sure was Equitix’s outrageous asking price.
For the four weeks since he’d been hired he’d been scoping this place out, watching everything, memorizing every schedule, every hallway, every nook and cranny of the building, putting a ‘face’, so to speak, to the blueprints and schematics he’d pored over before ever coming here. Being a shifter helped – even in human form, he was faster than any human could hope to be, had better senses, and possessed a preternatural sense for danger. That was possibly where being a prehistoric giant kangaroo came in handy – a sense for danger was a necessary part of survival.
This was one job, however, where he’d be using his technical know-how a lot more than his shifter abilities, at least when it came down to the brass tacks of the operation. Kangaroo paws weren’t exactly useful when it came to safecracking.
Trent whistled a little tune as he moved on to the next desk, checking underneath it for the rubbish bin. There was no one left here now who’d get annoyed about it, after all – as soon as this last guy clocked out, Trent would be on his own. The guy, however, didn’t seem to be in any hurry, loitering in the office kitchen, getting himself a glass of water or something.
Can’t get impatient,Trent told himself as he carried on whistling, moving easily between the rows of desks as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Impatience was death at times like these. It could only lead to mistakes. He had… well, not all the time in the world, but enough that he didn’t need to raise anyone’s suspicions by hurrying.
All he needed to do was wait, and –
A movement in the shadows by the far wall caught his eye, and he turned in time to see the woman who came to water and tend the office plants wheeling her trolley down the aisle across from him.
She wasn’t too personable, but Trent liked her anyway – well, he thought she wasverynice to look at, with her long black hair and dark eyes, and he thought her American accent was pretty cute, as well. She was usually finished up by this time, though – maybe she was doing a later shift?
“Hey, Laura, what’s up?” he called to her, lifting a hand to wave at her cheerfully. She never really seemed to be that into his attempts to make small talk, but then, Trent couldn’t blame her. All she’d told him about herself was that she was from New York – not even whichbitof New York! Though it wasn’t as if they could really become friends – he wasn’t who she thought he was, after all, and after tonight, they’d never see each other again.
Laura gave him a quick, perfunctory nod in return. “Hey.”
“On late tonight?”
“Something like that. I had a fresh consignment of potted palms to organize up on the seventh floor,” Laura said as she watered a fern, just one of dozens that stood in stands around the desks. The officewasreally nice after all, and the plants helped contribute to a healthy work environment, or so Trent had read in the company’s onboarding literature.
“Lucky seventh floor,” Trent said lackadaisically as he emptied another bin, keeping one eye on the man in the kitchen.Finallyhe seemed to be finishing up whatever he was doing in there and was starting on his way out, rolling his shoulders and yawning as he went.
Trent hadn’t counted on Laura working late tonight, though – obviously, it’d be better if there was no one here when he went to crack the safe. Just how far back had her schedule been pushed, anyway?
“Tough break for you though, working so late,” he continued after a moment. “You won’t have to stay back too much, though, will you?”
Laura shrugged. “Hopefully not.”
“I can imagine someone like you must have a lot to do of an evening.”
“Imagine all you want.”
Trent sighed internally. All right – he could tell when someone wanted him to shut up. If Laura didn’t want to be charmed by his friendly overtures – and so far, she definitely didn’t, not even when he’d brought her hot chocolate and oliebollen, one late night worker to another – then he wasn’t going to push it.
He moved down the line of desks, still whistling. He glanced at the clock. He really ought to get moving, but he was extremely reluctant to make a move while Laura was still here. He was confident in his abilities, but this was risky business – if hedidhappen to trip a silent alarm or bring a bunch of security guards down on his head, he’d really rather not have a civilian in the building when it happened. The kind of guys who were likely to show up were definitely of the ‘shoot now, ask questions later’ variety.
Laura was still checking the plants, now trimming a few dead leaves and stems with a pair of clippers. She looked engrossed in her work, and not inclined to finish up particularly swiftly.
Come on, come on! How much maintenance could one plant need?!
Trent ran a dust cloth over a few computer monitors, stalling a little, glancing across at Laura every now and then. It wasn’t that hemindedhaving her to look at – the opposite, in fact – but why had it had to betodayof all days that she’d had to stay back late? Or seemed to need to payextraclose attention to watering the giant fern in the corner?
“Are you staying back late yourself?” The sound of Laura’s voice made him pause. Given how coldly she’d cut him off before, he was a little surprised she’d struck up the conversation again.
