Page 118 of Convict's Game
At the car, I closed Mila in then got us on the road fast. “We’re going to the warehouse. Whoever that was wants those files, and if they recognised this,” I tapped the bandanna once more around my neck, “they’ll know the skeleton crew has them. Safer to visibly carry them inside and lock them up there than take them to your place.”
Mila didn’t argue.
In slowing heartbeats, I drove us across town, then at the warehouse, we entered purposefully through the front, Cassie meeting us to take the box.
We returned to the car.
In the seats, Mila mangled her fingers together. “Are you sure you want to go out for part two of my investigating? I already feel like I’ve put us in danger tonight.”
“I live for this. Besides, it’s important, right?”
She shook out her hands as if trying to rid herself of tension. “It is.”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
I pulled the wheel and set tracks for location number two. Granny’s house. The place that had sparked my curiosity and featured in any number of my idle daydreams about how I’d break into the gated mansion.
Looked like I’d get to use that imagined practice after all.
The dark countryside swallowed us whole, and a couple of hundred metres out from the house, I killed the headlights, burying the car in an off-road field entrance.
I hopped out and tried the gate. It gave, and I drove across the grass, leaving the car under the cover of trees.
Through the woods, we approached the property, “house” being too humble a word. Visible through the fence, the place was a Bond villain’s retreat. Stark white render. Geometric lines. I’d caught a glimpse on our previous visit, but soaked in how the huge glass panels swallowed moonlight and how the boxy edges cut across the rugged Scottish countryside.
There were lights on. Someone was home.
Which meant I needed to find us a way in. A cable ran along the high fence, a clear sign of power going to a security system. Any neighbours were far enough away so there was no chance we’d be seen. Until we stalked out across the open ground.
The wind picked up, uncaring that we were about to commit yet another crime.
Beside me, Mila folded her arms tight. Her expression was calm, but her foot tapped the woodland floor.
“Nice place,” I murmured. “Totally pictured your gran as a minimalist ice queen, so it tracks.”
“She always was, though when my grandfather was alive, it felt warmer here. His office is the one room in the place that’s done out in his style. All wood panelling like a ship and oldrecords everywhere. I’ve only been inside once since he died. His office had been cleared out and felt like a mausoleum.”
I squeezed her hand, sensing the sadness hanging over her.
Together, we stalked down the perimeter towards the entrance. Cameras in every corner. Motion sensors by the front gate. High-tech. Discreet. Expensive. “She’s paranoid.”
“She’s wealthy. Same thing.”
I grinned. “Come on. If she has any kind of staff, there’ll be a service entrance. Gardeners don’t use retina scanners.”
We cut across the front and into the hedgerow on the other side. Twigs snapped underfoot, the night air damp. Along the edge, I found what I was hunting for, a lane leading to an outhouse of some kind that bisected the fence. No digital lock on the entrance. Just two motion lights and an old-fashioned deadbolt. Someone on the security design team had missed a spot.
I pulled my skeleton crew bandanna from my throat. “Give me yours. The motion lights love to ruin the mood.”
She handed it over. “These are endlessly useful.”
“I planned for this. I plan for everything. Except you. You’re the chaos variable.”
She snorted. “Flatter me more.”
“I will. Later. When we’re not about to be arrested on the grounds of a billionaire fortress.”
I wrapped the material around the lights and dropped to a crouch, examining the lock. It was then that I spotted what I’d missed.
