My ears are drumming with uncontrollable anxiety. What the fuck are we doing? Planning and executing are vastly different, and I only now realize how perilous this whole thing is. We aren’t spies or thieves. We’re fucking nerds who are at our best behind a computer screen.
Thankfully, Andrea manages to think past all that and keeps us going. “Do we lock it back?” she asks.
“No. Getting caught in a locked room is impossible to explain. This way, we can pretend it was unlocked the whole time.”
“Smart. Okay, the safe’s over here.”
Gathering her long skirt, she heads over to a second door while I pull out my gloves. By the time I’m done putting them on, she returns with the camera she hid a couple of days ago. I take out the cable we brought, and we plug it into my phone.
“Please, please, please,” she begs as the application loads. A few video files appear, and she lets out a victorious “Yes!”
It looks like Becker opened his safe more than once. I waste no time opening a file, and we watch as Becker’s hand appears on the screen. He types in a twelve-number combination. We rewatch it, and it seems Andrea has the same doubt as I have. “Is that one before the last a six or a three?”
“I’m not sure.”
I open another clip, and we watch the same thing happen again. It’s impossible to tell in this one either. I’m trying to think about what the numbers could mean when Andrea says, “Look, there’s more than a laptop in there. He keeps some kind of notebook, too.”
The video, still running, shows the hand taking out a leather-bound notebook indeed. “We need to try a combination,” I decide.
“What if we get it wrong?”
“We have two tries. If it’s not three, it’ll be six. It’ll work, freckles.”
She nods in agreement, but I can see how worried she still is. “We’ll get out of this, my love. I promise.”
When she nods this time, there’s more assurance in it. We walk into the closet together, and I lower myself to see the digital screen. It lights up with a touch, and numbers appear. Careful not to make a mistake, I type in the combination with a three, then press the button to open. The screen turns red with a warning sound.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
Andrea is right by my side, passing a hand over my upper back. “You can do it, baby.”
I close my eyes and take a long breath, aware of what will go down if the next input is also wrong. Becker and his goons will storm theplace before we have time to even consider an escape. I can’t let that happen. Not with my freckled dork right here with me.
Opening my eyes again, I focus on the digits and enter the password, using a six this time. The tip of my index finger hovers over the validation button. This isn’t how we end. No way the universe planned it this way.
Invigorated by the idea that something greater than us is pulling the strings, I press the button. The screen turns green with a little blip, and the door unlocks.
“Fuck yeah!” Andrea whisper-shouts, her hand on my back, fisting and tugging at the fabric of my tux with excitement.
From then on, it’s as though we’re on autopilot. I take out the laptop and the notebook, and while Andrea settles on the desk to open the computer and get the hard drive, I take everything out of my pockets. The cloning station, its cord, and the SD card with its adapter.
I set it next to Andrea, find a plug, and shove the cord into it. As soon as it’s over, I focus on the notebook. Whatever’s in there, we’ll probably find a use for it. I don’t even take time to look at what’s handwritten on the pages. I snap pictures, turn the page, snap, turn… It seems endless, but it’ll be worth it.
“Okay, I’m done,” Andrea lets out. I’m starting the cloning.”
“Good. Let me know when it’s over.”
“Yeah.”
Whatever chemistry is firing up in my brain, it seems to slow time. I’m more focused than I’ve ever been, eyes set on my mission, determined to carry it through.
“Almost done,” Andrea says after a moment has passed.
I take more pictures, vaguely seeing that every page is set up the same way, with a title, then a list of names, and a small paragraph below. Whatever this is, Becker wants to keep it locked in and secret.
“Okay, it’s done,” Andrea asserts.
“Good. Time to assemble the laptop again.”
