Page 62 of Avenging Jessie
She nodded, then glanced over at him. “You’re mentally working on twelve strategies, aren’t you? Because you’re sure this is all going to go wrong.”
“It’s called planning,” he said.
“It’s called blaming yourself,” she countered, softer now. “This isn’t on you, Spence. The Pentagon stole your work. Brewer’s the one using it against us.”
He tightened his grip on the wheel. “Doesn’t matter who started it. I’m the only one who can stop it.”
A lie. It did matter. To him, anyway. He’d meant those drones to help people, especially the military personnel in the field. They were supposed to carry medicine and other tactical aid. Instead, they’ve been turned into horrifying weapons.
The silence stretched until the road curved and the industrial park’s fence lines came into view, a jagged silhouette. Jessie leaned forward, scanning. “Target in sight.”
Spence coasted the SUV into the shadow of an abandoned loading dock. From here, BIA Solutions sat like a crouched beast. Two stories of corrugated steel were wrapped in razor wire, floodlights on swivels, and a fence line humming with enough voltage to fry a man stupid enough to touch it.
He slid the binoculars from the dash and scanned the perimeter. Two guards in tactical black paced a lazy loop inside the fence, rifles slung but hands never far from their grips. Cameras rode the corners, angling in slow sweeps.
Jessie was already out of her seat, crouched against the SUV’s hood as she adjusted her own optics. “South fence line’s blind spot’s smaller than I thought. Between the camera sweeps and patrol timing, we’ve got maybe eight seconds to cross open ground.”
“Plenty of time,” Spence said, though he clocked the math twice in his head. One missed beat and they’d be a flashing neon sign in the open.
She lowered her binoculars and returned to her seat before pointing to the roof. “If the control hub’s got its own cooling system like you said, it’s over there.” The finger dropped to the section of the building directly below it. “That’s where it’ll be.”
“And the server racks are usually in the heart of the operation,” he said.
She watched the guards again through her binoculars. “It’s going to be a bitch to get to them unnoticed.”
Spence’s jaw set, and he squeezed her shoulder. If only he could knock her out and leave her behind. Do this all on his own. But he couldn’t. And he knew the importance of teamwork. “Then we plan on being noticed.”
“I’ve got your back,” she said, patting his hand on her shoulder.
“And I’ve got yours.”
She leaned over and kissed him. Slow, sweet. For a second, he closed his eyes and let all thoughts fly away so he could enjoy it.
It might be the last time.
As she broke the kiss, the clock in his head started ticking down again. He cleared his throat, and they exited the car together.
At the guard change, Spence signaled Jessie forward, both of them sliding from cover into the cloudy afternoon light. The fence hummed like an angry hornet, the smell of diesel teasing his nose.
They kept low, moving along the shadows of a stacked pallet wall until they hit the south line. The nearest camera swept right.
“Now,” he breathed.
Jessie went first—fluid, silent. In three steps, she was at the fence, cutter in hand. The insulated jaws bit through the chain-link. She peeled it back just enough to slip inside, her movements fast but unhurried, every inch the pro she was trained to be.
Spence followed, sealing the cut behind him with a magnetic clamp to hide the breach for as long as possible.
The guard patrol was late, which should have been a gift. Instead, it set his instincts buzzing. Too many ops had taught him lateness meant something else was already in motion.
Jessie dropped to a crouch and hugged the wall of the warehouse. She raised her gun as the soft crunch of boots on gravel approached from the east.
She didn’t wait for Spence’s nod. She flowed forward, intercepting the guard like a shadow. His expression never changed as she hit him with the barrel of her gun and eased him down to the ground.
Spence stepped over the unconscious body, resisting the urge to glance back. The soft glow of sodium lights painted the metal siding ahead as if it were night.
They were inside the perimeter. The hard part was about to start.
The loading bay loomed ahead, corrugated steel doors shuttered tight. Spence tucked in beside the keypad, fingers flying over the portable decryptor clipped to his belt. A soft chirp confirmed the bypass.
