Just another night in the mafia.
Her breathing was controlled but rapid. Scared. Of course she was.
"You can still back out," I murmured. "Stay in the car. No one would blame you."
"I'm not backing out."
"Stubborn."
"You married me before you knew me. You have a lot to learn, husband."
There was a hint of sauciness in her voice, and I liked it more than I should admit. If we made it out of this mess I wanted to find out just what else gave her an attitude and that little tipped up half-smile.
The SUV pulled up two blocks from Viktor's building at 4:13 a.m. The staging area.
The point of no return.
We exited the vehicles, moved through shadows to the adjacent building's garage entrance. Cold November air bit through clothes. The smell of garbage and exhaust and rain on concrete.
Rocco's voice crackled in our earpieces: "Camera loop active in thirty seconds. Mark."
We counted down silently. At zero, we moved.
The garage was concrete and fluorescent lights—industrial, stark. The service corridor exactly where the blueprints showed. Locked door, but Giulio's picks made quick work of it.
Through to the maintenance corridor—pipes overhead, water stains on walls, the smell of mildew and old building. First checkpoint: another locked door. Electronic. Giulio bypassed it in forty seconds.
Good time.
Rocco's voice: "You have company. Two guards doing rounds on the second basement level. Thirty seconds until they reach your position."
I signaled: everyone against the walls. Silence. Waiting.
Footsteps echoed. Voices—casual conversation in Russian.
The guards passed without looking into the corridor. Kept moving.
Too close.
A third door—this one opened into Viktor's basement parking level. Private. Exclusive. Only a dozen spots, most empty.
Viktor's cars: a Bentley, a Mercedes, an Aston Martin. Obscene wealth on display.
And there—Bianca's rental car. A modest sedan, rental company sticker still on it.
"She's still here," Piero confirmed.
We moved to the private elevator—only access to Viktor's floors. Required keycard and biometric scan. Giulio pulled out equipment—a keycard cloner and a biometric bypass device.
This was the risky part. The hack took two minutes. And if someone called the elevator during that time...
Rocco in our ears: "No movement on Viktor's floors. You're clear."
Giulio worked. Ninety seconds. The device beeped—red light.
Failed.
He tried again. Sixty seconds. Another beep—green light.
