Winning Glory

Winning Glory, GenTech Rebellion Book One

She nodded. "I, uh, I forgot something I needed."

He nodded back. "Always something, eh?" His smile displayed several missing teeth; grizzled gray hair lay flat against his head.

Because she was too keyed up to talk, and finding words was hard, she trotted toward the elevator, nearly twisting an ankle in the process from her sleek, black pumps. She still had the electronic card in hand. The Nameless Ones had done reconnaissance and funneled needed data into her processing unit. It was how she knew she'd need the key card to call the elevator after hours-and everything else about this assignment.

She swiped the card and pushed the up button. Somewhere above her, machinery whirred. She wanted to look back at the front door, but self-preservation and not attracting attention trumped everything.

The housekeeper whistled as he drew his mop across the shiny floor. She listened, trying to make out the tune, but it wasn't familiar. The elevator doors opened, and she stepped inside, turning as she did to catch a glimpse of the electronic scanner that had to be near the front door.

Breath rattled from her constricted lungs. There it was. About a foot to the right of the door, which was why she hadn't noticed it before. Excellent. Her egress-assuming she made it that far-would be smooth, rather than awkward. It'd look suspicious if she had no idea how to exit the building. Floors whooshed past, and she got out on the fourteenth. Squaring her shoulders, she took advantage of her almost six-foot height to project the illusion she belonged here, in the center of corporate America late at night.

This building in the heart of Seattle was as close to the Silicon Valley as the Northwest got. Many major hardware and software manufacturers had offices here, but she was only focused on one of them-Dynamic Solutions. DS was deeply involved in government contracting for classified genetic research. The Handlers told her that much, but nothing further, and she'd known better than to ask.

Her heels beat a staccato on green-veined, creamy marble as she made her way to the end of the hall. She traded the key card still clutched in her sweaty hand for a different one, swiped it, and slipped on transparent latex gloves before letting herself into a mercifully dark suite of offices.

Get what I came for and leave, ran through her mind like a mantra. The cleanup person had seen her, but he wouldn't be a problem, not so long as everything else went smoothly. Her heart still beat too fast, and she was sweating despite the cool November evening and the sixty degree temperature in the building, but so far so good.

The office layout was exactly what she'd seen in schematics. She strode purposively toward a corner office. The door was shut and she twisted the latch.

It didn't turn.

Goddammit! Locked. What do I do now? A perverse part of her thrilled because the Nameless Ones' intel had flaws. She hated them so much, any evidence of their weakness meant maybe she could escape someday.

Her practical side intruded, and she looked for a keycard slot in the door. Picking locks was easy; it wouldn't slow her down much. When she didn't find one, she hunted for an electronic device and groaned when she saw a retinal scanner. She could defeat it, but she needed permission to break protocol, plus she didn't want to kick off the building's alarm system if there was a way around it.