Unlimited Plan (*)

When you lost the keys to your rental storage unit

16

Albuquerque, United States (6 months earlier)

"I'm listening..." whispered the man.

"Everyone is in position, we can proceed."

The voice echoed through his earpiece. Around him, absolute silence reigned in the shadow of the federal building he was about to enter.

At night, Albuquerque certainly can't compete with the luminous glitz of Las Vegas, 560 miles to the west, but it remains nonetheless a patch of explicit brightness in the middle of its dry valley. With over 700,000 inhabitants, it is New Mexico's largest city, and one must travel several hundred miles in any direction to find another city of similar size. Situated at nearly 930 miles above sea level, the climate is arid, with temperatures ranging between 85 and 95° Fahrenheit in summer, and seldom falling below 30 in winter, leading at most to a few inches of snow. Precipitation remains rare on this vast plateau nestled in the mountains where the air tends to stagnate.

The population has sextupled in fifty years, and the city, once a Spanish colonial outpost, has not managed to retain its charm. It has grown too quickly and carries within it the coldness and monotony of modern constructions. Yet, if one stays close to the mythical Route 66 that cuts through its heart, one can find a bit of the old town's soul. It remained a mandatory stop to any cross-continental road trip for a long period. The striking number of motel neon signs is still there to testify to this.

However, it is not tourism that has caused the population to grow at such a rate. Route 66 no longer carries more than a nostalgic aspect. Wide multi-lane highways have long since replaced it. The I-25, for example, where trucks travel night and day with no other goal than to deliver their goods in record time to the opposite end of the country. It is also unlikely that the city is a pilgrimage site for computer enthusiasts. Even if "Micro-Soft"—still written in two words at that time—was hastily created in one of the town's motels in 1975. If Albuquerque has developed so much, it is mainly due to the establishment of a nuclear research laboratory and a huge air force base. Roswell is not very far away, and the infamous Area 51 starts just south of the metropolis's outskirts. Coincidence or not, such activities have led many federal institutions to maintain a presence in the metropolis boroughs. The FBI hosts one of its largest operational offices there, the NSA has a field center, and the CIA several structures—expanded since the attacks that targeted their Pentagon headquarters in 2001.

Like Washington, the concentration of national, state-run, or military premises per square mile is impressive.

In one of these buildings shadow, a tall, well-built white man with short blond hair was slipping between the scattered cars parked in the parking lot. Everything about his demeanor denoted a professional. He moved silently, with precise gestures and a swiftness that only years of training could confer. Yet, he was not dressed in camouflage attire, or a dark form-fitting outfit as one might expect from a man on a mission. He wore simple civilian clothes and finished crossing the parking lot with his face uncovered. Reaching the fence, he checked the contents of his small backpack and took out a pair of pliers with which he busied himself cutting the mesh separating him from the building inner courtyard.

In his ear canal, the tiny transparent earpiece crackled: "Fisher, the patrol has just started its round on the other side. Give me thirty seconds to adjust the signal."

"Understood," replied the intruder as he folded back a large section of the fence.

Fisher remained crouched, motionless.