A Thousand Faces Page 7

  I took a deep, slow breath. "Hopefully we won't run into anyone. No story would be the best story." And given where this conversation kept going, it was the story I clearly should have suggested.

  "Turn left here," Kalif said. "Eravision will be on your right."

  I turned. I'd driven past the building before, when Dad was doing his initial reconnaissance. We'd passed by at night, studying the building.

  "What is it trying to tell you?" Dad had asked.

  The building had huge glass windows, and a revolving glass door. "It's modern," I said. "Up to date."

  "That's what it's trying to tell its customers and employees," Dad said. "But you're here to threaten it. What's it trying to tell you?"

  The front of the building rose from the sidewalk like a sheer cliff face. Since the front was glass, I could see into the lobby, which was lit with dim, recessed light even though the building was officially closed. Inside, a wide counter horseshoed around the room. There was no easy way to walk in the front without going right by it.

  "They're paying attention," I said. "The glass makes the building seem transparent, like they'll be able to see everything I do. I don't want to break in the front door, because the open area makes me feel exposed."

  "Is that all?"

  "It also makes it seem like they aren't afraid of people breaking in. Like their electronic security is so good, they hardly need physical security."

  "What do you think about that?" Dad asked.

  "It's bull," I said. "No guards have come by. They have cameras, but the ones at the corners of the building aren't wired to anything I can see, so they're either transmitting picture to the mainframe wirelessly, or not at all. How's their security budget?"

  "Low," Dad said.

  "So, they're not spending money on bandwidth to keep them on."

  "According to the schematics your mom got, they're triggered by alarms inside."

  "So they'd record a get away, but not an approach. They're not recording us now."

  "Fortunate for us," Dad had said, pulling down the street again. "Makes our job much, much easier."

  Tonight, though, Kalif and I weren't casing the system—that work was done. My eyes were on the road in front of us, and the sidewalks on the side. Kalif turned halfway around in his seat, watching behind us. Tonight, we were looking for police.

  "I didn't see anyone," I said as I drove around the block to make another pass.

  "Me neither," Kalif said. "Maybe Nick's boss didn't call the cops."

  I didn't know what I was hoping for. If Mom and Dad got captured, they were in trouble, which I didn't want. But if they didn't, where were they now?

  We made one more pass around the block, but still the place looked deserted. The lobby of the building was empty, and with good reason. The employee entrance was in the parking garage. Anyone who had reason to be here this late at night would come in from that side.

  I turned into the alley that ran behind the row of buildings from the cross street. The Eravision parking lot was underground, directly below the building. The driveway descended from the alley and snaked around the perimeter, ending in an unmanned checkpoint with a vehicle barrier and a badge scanner.

  I rolled down the window and scanned Andrea's keycard. The garage was mostly empty—only five cars on the first floor. I drove down to the second level to get a feel for exactly how many people were in the building, and found four more cars there—some of them parked far from the entrance, indicating that they'd been here since at least mid-afternoon, when the lot would have been full.

  I parked right next to the elevator, and we both got out. Kalif walked a bit stiffly, like he was trying too hard to get the movement right in his larger frame. "Relax," I said.

  Kalif smiled at me, but even his smile looked scared.

  To get into the elevator, I scanned my keycard again. Kalif punched the button for the third floor. Andrea's office was on the opposite side of the building from the security office, but at least they were on the same floor. John worked in a cubicle on the floor above, so we'd chosen our excuse well.

  We stepped out of the elevator on the third floor and walked down the hall to an open room full of cubicles. A light was on in the cubicle against the farthest wall, shining a ring of gold on the ceiling above it. Beyond that I didn't see any signs of life as we crossed the room and came to another hall and a row of offices. Andrea's cube was second on the left.

  "Got the phone?" Kalif whispered. His voice was scratchy again now, taking on John's chest cold.

  I touched Andrea's cell in my pocket. We usually used disposables, but whenever Mom and Dad took on a long term persona, they got a real cell phone to go with it.

  "Right here," I breathed at him.

  We paused at Andrea's cubicle, where I opened and closed a desk drawer, as if to remove the phone. I stood on my tiptoes, peering over the top of the cubicle, looking for anyone who might notice us, but aside from a few lights, I saw nothing.

  Silently, we moved toward the security office. The big glass windows made me feel every bit as exposed as I'd told Dad that they would, but I tried to walk confidently. Andrea worked here. She was allowed to come in late at night.

  We came to the security room, and I tried the door. The handle clicked, and refused to turn.

  The easiest way to get in would have been to find someone with a key and lift it, but that would require a more complex operation. We'd have to use mundane skills to do this job. Luckily we had plenty of those. Mom always said it was a sloppy shifter who relied on that talent in every circumstance, when practice and training were often all that was necessary to get the job done. Since I could practice lock picking in a controlled situation, I'd done a lot of it.

  I sized up the door. It was made of hollow metal, and the lock was a simple cylinder lock—not electrified or magnetic. The make had a reputation for quality. It was also a deadbolt, so getting in wouldn't be as simple as sliding my ID card between the door and the frame.

  Kalif scanned the hall behind us for other employees while I checked the door and frame for signs of alarm switches—the kind that would trigger on the opening of the door, or at least record it, but there were none. Out of habit, I checked the hallway for cameras. There was one behind us pointing back toward the elevator, but not one pointing in this direction.

  In the movies, every space of every building seemed to be under constant surveillance, but in real life, security systems were held back by two things: the size of the budget and the ingenuity of the maintenance and design staff. Eravision seemed to be lacking in both.

  I turned my attention back to the door. No light escaped around it, no sound came from underneath. I pulled a piece of paper from a printer in a nearby cubicle, sliding it under the door to make sure there wasn't any weather proofing applied to it that would block the light. The paper slipped in easily, which meant either the office was empty, or whoever was in there liked to spend office time in total darkness.

  "We're clear," I said.

  "Here, too," Kalif said. "What's our cover if someone happens by?"

  I pointed past the office. "The break room is back there."

  Kalif nodded. "Let's get some coffee. Then we won't have to explain."

  That was a good instinct. With the shape we were in, the fewer words we had to say, the better.

  The coffee pot was already full of hot water—someone who'd stayed late had the same idea we did, though certainly for different reasons. Kalif poured a packet of instant into two Styrofoam cups, and topped them with water. He carried both as we walked back to the security office. So far, so good.

  When we reached the security office again, I pulled a tension wrench out of my pocket, slipped it into the keyhole, and turned. Then I knelt beside the door with my cheek pressed against it.

  Kalif sipped from the cup. "This coffee is disgusting," he said.

  Mel was a connoisseur of gourmet coffees, so the Johnsons didn't drink instant at home. "It's the free bre
ak room stuff," I said. "What did you expect?"

  "People drink this? Don't they know any better?"

  "You sound like your dad."

  Kalif glared at the offending cup, but I was pretty sure he meant to be glaring at me.

  "Sorry," I said. "But hush now. You can complain later."

  I maneuvered my lock pick so it could flip the tiny pins inside the cylinder up and down. With my ear pressed to the door, I waited for the tiny click that would tell me the pin was engaged in the right position, so I could move on to the next one. As I listened I picked up on every tiny sound—the ticking of a clock, the slurp of Kalif's mouth on his cup, and the hum of the army of computers and printers and other electronic devices throughout the offices. On my sixth try with the pick, I heard a click. First pin was in position.

  A floorboard creaked around the corner, and I nearly jerked the pick from the lock, ruining my work. I hesitated with my hand still on the lock. If I pulled out the pick, I'd lose my work, but if I left it in place, someone might see it.

  The floor creaked again, closer this time. I left the pick in the lock and stood in front of it, running a hand through Andrea's bushy hair to tame it.

  Kalif thrust my coffee cup at me, and I took a long sip as an overweight man in a shirt and tie came around the corner, carrying a plastic thermos.

  Kalif was right. This coffee was terrible.

  The man's tie hung loose around his neck, and his shirt was wrinkled around the arms and collar, like he'd been leaning back in a chair in it all day.

  Kalif gave a nervous wave, which looked more like a teenage move than a professional one. I took a tiny step forward, making sure to stay between the man and the door, and glanced down at the badge hanging from his lanyard.

  "Hey, Devin," I said. "How's it going?" I remembered Mom mentioning Devin in her persona reports. They were acquaintances.

  Of course, that didn't mean I had to go spouting off his name like a rookie.

  Devin, for his part, didn't seem to notice. "Fine," he said. "I heard you didn't come in today." He peered over my shoulder. "Hey, John."

  "Hi," Kalif said. He sounded uncomfortable, and I hoped that was well-acted discomfort because we were supposed to be secretly dating, and not a slip.

  Devin looked at me expectantly. He was waiting for me to explain why I hadn't shown up for work. The pause was already getting suspicious. I needed to pull it together—fast. "We're both sick," I said. "And we . . . forgot to call in."

  Devin looked from John to me and smirked. I was glad I hadn't talked Kalif out of the dating excuse. It gave us an easy cover for my awkward execution.

  "Did you hear about the break in?" Devin asked.

  "Uh," I said. My stutter sounded nervous, so I took a long swig of my coffee and coughed, as if I had a dry throat. Pull it together, I thought. I handled this better at Emmeline's office. "What happened? I haven't heard a thing."

  Devin nodded knowingly. "The alarm got set off last night. Security locked all of our workstations today and sent us home early so they could figure out what happened. No one knows who did it, but rumor is someone from HR is going to get fired."

  My heart thudded. Nick Delacruz worked for HR. "What did they have to do with it?"

  Devin shook his head. "I don't know. I just came in to get some things ready for the meeting tomorrow, since I couldn't do it today. I'm sure we'll know more by tomorrow. You are coming in tomorrow, right? Allan was pissed when you both no-showed."

  "Yeah, of course," I said. Since I'd already made an innuendo out of my last excuse, I figured I might as well keep lumping us both together, like we were one person. That was also a new-relationship thing. "We're both feeling better, now."

  Devin gave Kalif a half-smile. He seemed to have gotten the message. "Have a good night," he said.

  I was pretty sure he intended that as an innuendo, as well.

  I kept my voice light and cheery. "Night," I said.

  We watched as Devin disappeared into the break room, presumably for more crap coffee.

  "He'll have to come back this way," Kalif said. "We better not be standing here when he does."

  Our options were to skulk around and wait for him to go back to his office, or get into the security room before he came back. I knelt down, ear to the door, and went back to work on the lock.

  I was on my last pin when I heard a flutter of paper. It could have been the turning of a page, or the slip of a sheet into a recycle bin. It could also have been Devin returning to poke his nose into what we were doing. I held my breath as I waited for the final click. If I pulled the tension wrench out now I'd have to start all over.

  Another flutter, then the final click. I stood up, turning the tension wrench like a key, and the bolt snapped in the lock. The handle bent down as I pressed on it, and I held the lock open, with the door still closed.

  I shifted my spine straighter. Done.

  "See anyone?" I whispered.

  "No," Kalif said. "But I heard something."

  So I wasn't forming ghost sounds from the white noise. It might be Devin coming back from the break room, or it might be someone else working late. I didn't want to wait around to find out.

  "Come on," I said. I turned the door handle and slipped into the security office.

  The room was tiny—almost a closet. The hall light dimly illuminated a desk and shelves jumbled with cords.

  I turned around as Kalif slid in behind me and shut the door.

  "Don't turn on the light," I said. "Wait for Devin to pass again, or he might notice we're in here."

  We stood practically on each other's toes, right inside the dark room. The only light came from the buttons on the computer tower and monitor. They caught in Kalif's eyes, and I became aware of him, standing facing me, just inches away, with not a single part of him touching me.

  I moved my hand slowly through the dark space behind me, feeling the edge of a desk. Slowly the shadows of the rest of the room took form. I leaned back against the desk, and cringed as a pen rolled across the top of the desk surface and stopped when it hit something—the keyboard perhaps.

  Kalif and I both breathed for a moment, and as I looked down, I could make out the shape of his hand, hanging at his side just inches from mine. His fingers flexed.

  I looked up into his face, and my body leaned into him. Though he looked like John, he still smelled like Kalif.

  I swayed back against the desk, and Kalif put out a hand, steadying me with two fingers, like he was trying to minimize touch. I felt drawn to him, like a ball rolling down a hill, but I pushed against the feeling, restraining myself.

  The floor creaked again, and I shook myself. Footsteps thumped down the hall from the break room—probably Devin.

  I sank onto the edge of the desk, and when I was steady, Kalif dropped his arm. I could hear him sigh in the darkness, as the floor fell quiet outside.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. It was just as well. This wasn't the time or the place to start something.

  But moments from now, we'd find the security footage. I'd know what happened to my parents—and hopefully have a lead to find them. And when I found them, Kalif would go home. That had always been what would happen; we were too young and too untrained to leave home. Even if he did want to make a move, he had to know that our moment had passed, not just now in this office, but weeks ago.

  We were both too early, and too late.

  Kalif took a breath that seemed to come from the bottom of his toes. "Okay," Kalif said. "Let's get this over with."

  I reached for the light, but Kalif held up his arm. Instead of grabbing my hand, he held his up in warning, not an inch away. "We don't need it," he said. He sat down in the chair at the desk and jiggled the mouse. As the computer woke up, a sign in screen appeared, brightening the room with blue light.

  "Time to work your magic," I said. In the brighter light, I could see why the room felt so cramped. It was crammed with two filing cabinets, a desk with a computer, and a humming m
ass of hardware I couldn't identify—servers, maybe, or backup drives for their security video. Cords ran everywhere. Whoever worked in here was not very organized.

  Kalif didn't take his eyes from the screen. "Do you want to keep watch?"

  "Are you trying to get rid of me?" I asked.

  "No," Kalif said. "But if someone wants to come in here, I'd like to have some warning."

  I sighed. I wanted to stand right behind him, to see immediately what he found about my parents. But he had a point.

  I took the full cup of coffee and slipped back into the hall. Leaning against the wall, I sipped my coffee slowly, trying not to twitch like a frightened sparrow. I waited for what seemed like forever, trying to quiet the voices that hissed in my ears. What if Kalif found nothing? What would we do then? He was used to hacking from the safety of his own room, but I'd hoped he could get through this one a bit faster. Finally, I cracked the door.

  "Almost done?" I asked. Kalif stuck out his hand to check my identity, and I reciprocated.

  "Yes," Kalif said. I waited for an explanation to follow, but it didn't.

  I gave one last glance at the empty halls and ducked back into the office with him. "What did you find?"

  He watched the numbers on his file transfer, refusing to meet my eyes. "Security footage. I'll show you at home."

  My throat went dry. I couldn't wait that long. Not all the way out of the office, all the way home in the car. Not when there might be more we could do while we were here. "Show me now."

  Kalif still didn't look at me. His data transfer neared completion. When he spoke, his voice was clipped. "Let's talk later, okay?"

  My hands gripped the back of his chair. "You can't do that to me," I said. "I'm going to imagine it's much worse than it is."

  The file finished transferring, and Kalif ejected the drive and pocketed it. "I really think it would be better—"

  "No," I said. My voice was getting louder than it ought to. I lowered it again. "Now."

  Kalif looked up at me, registering the fear on my face. I saw something in his eyes, a flicker of feeling.

  Oh, no, I thought. It's pity.