With an eye trained on the moving camera, Steve followed Shane and John in a single-file line that hugged the side of the ISA field office. If they stepped out of line, the camera would probably detect them. It was a reminder that this job was a razor's edge. One foot out of place could bring down the entire ISA on them.
But it's the only way, Steve told himself and, with Shane and John committed to this job, Steve was not going to let them down.
Steve watched Shane closely as he removed the access panel on the alarm and began toying with the wiring. Despite the cold, December night, the man was sweating heavily, and Steve could tell he was pushing his limits. To John, Steve whispered, "Maybe he should stay back."
"You'll never get to the computer, let alone access it, without me," Shane said. He took a deep breath and then reconnected a couple of wires. They all held their breath, but there was no alarm. "It's clear."
That's step one, Steve thought. They still had to evade the interior cameras Shane had described and the ISA agents and security guards who might still be inside. As Steve had found, the spy business was not a 9 to 5 job.
Shane made quick work of the lock and John took a hold of the door. Shane gave them both a look and pulled down on his wool cap, so that it turned into a ski mask that covered his entire face. Steve and John did the same.
John inched the door open and Shane pointed to the hallway cameras. The one facing the interior would be easy to defeat. The problem was the one on the far side. They only had a minute to do this.
As he had been directed, Steve stayed as close behind the door as possible, trying to remain invisible to the far camera. He raised an arm so it was close to the nearby camera. In his hand, he had a Polaroid camera that he positioned just below the security camera. He clicked the button and jerked it back behind the door as it whirred and spit out the first photo.
Shane grabbed it and shook it in his hand as if willing it to develop more quickly. Then, out of his black bag of tricks, he pulled out an L-shaped metal clip and inserted the photo into a slot on the end.
"You've probably got about 30 seconds," Shane said, sliding into the position where Steve had been to take the photo. This time, Shane raised his arm and readied the metal clip. When it snapped into place, the photo would appear directly in front of the camera, giving whoever was on the other end, an image of an empty hallway.
"On three," Shane said. In a whisper, he counted - "One. . . . Two. . . . Three."
Shane raised the first picture, but did not clip it to the camera. Still, it blocked the view from that camera as Steve sprinted for the far end of the hallway. He came to a sharp stop just before slamming into the far doorway, just beneath the camera on that side. Like before, he aimed the Polaroid so that it captured almost the same image as the camera. At that precise moment, Shane jerked back his picture and John pulled the door closed. Again, the Polaroid captured an empty hallway, this time from the inside facing the door.
Now we just have to pray nobody's watching the interior camera. If someone was, they would spot Steve.
But it was just for a few seconds. As soon as the Polaroid whirred to life, the back door opened and Shane snapped the clip onto the camera. It took only an instant, and the photo now blocked the view completely.
On the far end, Steve pulled out a clip of his own and repeated the process with the second photo once the image had appeared. As Shane had instructed, Steve jostled the cord on the TV, which Shane said would create snow on the monitor as he clipped the photo into place. To anyone watching, it would appear only as if there was a momentary interruption in the image. With the two photos in place, anyone looking would just seem an empty hallway from both cameras.
Once Steve's photo was fixed, he waved to the door. Shane and John came through in a hurry. As they reached the door where Steve was, Shane coughed once, but quickly covered up the noise.
"You okay?" Steve whispered, only to get a harsh glare in response. "Fine," he muttered, handing the camera back to Shane, who shoved it into his bag.
"Let me take that, partner," John said. Shane started to shake his head, but then stopped and handed the bag over.
He must be hurting,Steve thought. They had to get this done fast. He looked at John, whose eyes shared that understanding. Then he looked at Shane and asked, "Ready."
Shane nodded, so Steve opened the door a crack. According to Shane, there were no cameras in this area. The ISA felt the entryway was sufficient. However, there could be guards or ISA agents patrolling the area.
For the moment, though, none appeared to be in sight.
The door opened on a corridor that ran left and right. Steve started to the right, in the direction of the field director's office. John and Shane followed. About 15 feet from the door, Steve stopped as the corridor crossed another hallway. He heard voices to his left.
"Operations Center," Shane whispered. That allowed Steve to visualize Shane's diagram and figure out where the voices were coming from. He peeked around the corner and saw nobody in the hallway.
"Come on," Steve urged. The three men ran across the hallway and continued down the empty corridor. Around the next corner, if Shane's diagram was accurate, would be the field director's office.
They passed a room that Steve recognized - the room where he had been kept during his interrogation - just before they reached the next corner. Once there, Steve stopped and inched his head around the edge.
Damn.
There was a security guard at the far end, checking the locked doors.
"Company," Steve whispered. There was no audible response, but he felt Shane or John tug at his sweater. Turning he saw it was John. Shane had slipped back to the doorway of the interrogation room. He had kept his lockpicks and quickly opened the door.
Following his lead, Steve and John trotted to the door and slipped inside. John closed the door and Shane used his picks to lock it from the inside. Then, Shane stepped aside to let John place his ear by the door so he could listen for the guard.
Steve just prayed the guard only tested the door and did not decide he needed to do a visual confirmation. Steve also prayed that the guard did not check the hallway with the cameras. If he spotted the photos, they were dead.
Steve glanced over at Shane, who was slumped against the wall, breathing hard. His eyes were shut tight, causing Steve to give John a worried look. They could both tell Shane was not ready for this exertion, but they had no choice, did they?
At the door, John raised an index finger to this lips. Steve could hear the guard's footsteps. An instant later, his breath caught as the doorknob to the interrogation room began to turn.
Please be locked, Steve prayed silently.
The knob caught as it could no longer give way. The door was locked. A moment later, Steve heard the footsteps again, this time heading away from the door.
All three men let out their breath. They waited a few more seconds and then John stepped aside so that Shane could reopen the lock. Once that was done, John opened the door and made sure the coast was clear.
As Steve once again took the point, he noticed that John had wrapped an arm around Shane and was helping him to the corner. This time, the hallway was clear, and Steve quickly led them to the door to the field director's office.
"Give me those," Steve said, pointing to Shane's lockpicks. He was surprised to get no argument, no insistence by Shane that he was fine and could do the job. Shane just handed the picks over.
I may not be ISA trained, but I do know my way around locks, Steve said to himself. He inserted the picks, found the pins, and tugged them into place. The lock clicked and Steve opened the door for John to help Shane inside. Steve followed, locking the door behind him.
As Shane continued to regain his breath, John found some flashlights in the bag. He handed one to Steve and turned on another. Waving them around, they saw that they were in the ante- with a secretary's desk. The director's office was on the other side.
"This way," Shane said, jerking the ski mask off his face. He took some unsteady steps to the office as the other men followed. He tried the knob, then said, "It's locked."
"I got it," Steve replied. He stepped forward, picked the lock, and opened the door. Flashing hte light inside, he spotted the field director's desk and their target - the computer - sitting on top of it.
Shane and John entered and headed for the computer. Once they were inside, Steve closed the door and flipped on the light. There was little chance that anyone would enter the exterior office and the interior office light would not carry through two closed doors.
As Shane sat down in the director's chair, Steve pulled off his mask, leaned against the door, and took a series of deep breaths. They had made it this far. Now they just had to hope they could find what they were looking for.