she’s right because if we don’t, if we can’t get through the rooftop door before the automatic alarm is activated, we’ll set it off and Pinceri’s men stationed on the bottom floor will likely be waiting for us outside by the time we make our way down the side of the building.
“Maybe we should’ve taken the elevator,” I say between strained breaths as we make our way quickly up the concrete steps.
“No, the elevators are too slow,” Nora says; the sound of our boots hitting the concrete echoes down the stairwell behind us, much louder this time. “I counted the time it took for the elevator to make it to the ninth floor when the guard from the surveillance room made his way up, as well as the time it took us on the stairs on the way down—we’re faster.”
She never ceases to amaze me. And make me feel like an amateur.
Just a few more steps.
Not knowing how many seconds we have to spare, when we make it to the top, I shove both hands on the door knob and grit my teeth, pushing it open with all my strength, wincing as I brace myself for the sound of the alarm.
It doesn’t trigger. We made it.
Nora shuts the door quickly and instantly it locks from the inside. A tiny red light shows up on the door panel, a light that had not been there before when it was locked, which can only mean that the alarm has just set.
Even though we’ve certainly bought ourselves some time by not triggering the alarm, we don’t stop for even a second to rest—there is a trail of dead bodies left in the building and it’s only a matter of time before someone stumbles upon one and calls it in. I would like to rest, more than anything, because this stupid mask sticking to my head like a thick pair of pantyhose is making my head itch like crazy, just like it did when I had lice in the compound in Mexico—I’ll have to endure the itch for a little while longer.
Nora and I retrieve our black backpacks hidden in a dark corner on the roof.
“I’ve never done this before,” I say as I swing mine onto my back and latch it in place by the straps crossing my chest.
“You said you weren’t afraid of heights.” Nora’s backpack was secured to her back before mine even was.
She grabs the metal contraption from the rope cable I’m to descend from and attaches it to my harness, locking it securely into place.
“I’m not afraid of heights,” I tell her and swallow nervously. “It’s just that it’s a long fucking way down.”
She grins at me as she jerks one last time on my harness to make sure it’s secure.
“Then don’t fucking fall,” she says with a smile.
I smirk and follow her to the edge of the roof.
And without time to give it any second thoughts, I grab my rope cable tight in my gloved hands and step over the roof wall and begin to propel myself down.
By the fifth floor, down the side of the building, that tiny ounce of fear I had has drained completely from my body.
We keep to the building face, staying out of view of any windows as we scale carefully the rest of the way down, coming to a safe stop on the ground at the back of the building where there is no traffic and there are no people; just a row of stinking dumpsters and a dark alley that will lead us back to our car parked on the side of the road.
After unlocking myself from the rope cable, the first thing I do is peel off that damn face mask and shove it into the front of my bodysuit, between my breasts. Instantly I feel relief as the air washes over my itching, sweating skin.
Nora leaves hers on.
We make it to the car in under three minutes and are on our way back to Boston without a hitch.
Izabel
During the drive back to Boston, Nora talks a lot as usual, but she refuses to talk about the mission.
“I think it went well,” I say as we ride down the dark, nearly empty highway. “No one alive saw us; the timing was cutting it close, but it was perfect, and—”
“Come on Izabel,” she cuts in, glancing over at me briefly from the driver’s seat; long, disheveled hair draping her shoulders. “Let’s not get into this right now. I want to relax,