With the meeting done — Hobbs told them about a refrigerated truck carrying a server farm, and Ramsey suggested something about hard drives, uplinks and trojan horses — Letty had finally become free to leave. The moment Little Nobody mentioned wrapping it up there, she'd slipped out of her chair and left Dom to sit and talk with Hobbs. Hash out the alpha male bullshit now, Letty figured, and it wouldn't interfere with the mission later.
"Aren't you meant to be part of the team, Shaw?" she called out, walking past the line of six cars to her right. Elizabeth sat at the end beside the thirty-something year old Zhiguli, cross-legged on the floor, a sheaf of papers in hand and a toolkit beside her. Under the car itself was a growing pile of parts. "Didn't see your ass upstairs."
"I've got more important things to do."
"Like fix that piece of crap?"
Until she found an active landline, with a modem attached to it, or Hobbs and his little government lackey allowed her access to an internet connection, there was little Elizabeth could do but sit, and solder, and draw and wait. "Yeah."
"Okay." Letty chuckled. If Shaw thought she could keep that thing's tyres from flying off the axles every time she took a corner, more power to her. Zhiguli, or Lada as they'd been sold in the States, were notorious for falling apart. Every old Russian guy she'd talked to during her Moscow heist had spoken of fond and not so fond memories of fixing the car up while they froze their ass off. "Good luck."
"Thanks."
Letty continued down the aisle towards the other end of the warehouse. Right now, all she wanted was a strong cup of coffee and five minutes alone. No team, no Dom, no Hobbs — just herself and an almost-lethal dose of caffeine and sugar. It wasn't exactly a morning ritual, nor anything on par with meditation and all that mindfulness shit. Letty simply enjoyed having space to breathe after so many years of crowded rooms and confined spaces.
Upstairs, Dom leaned on the table, palms flat, resting all his weight on it. Hobbs and Brian sat at one end of the table, Deckard and Owen at the other. Roman, Tej and Ramsey were downstairs, dealing with things their own way. "So how long do you think this'll take, Hobbs?"
"Weeks, possibly months. Cipher hasn't exactly left a trail," Luke said. He'd done his best to avoid mentioning any timelines during the meeting. There was no sense in giving them false hope about going home early, or revealing the card up his sleeve with Owen in the room. "Luring her out is the best option."
He wouldn't say it aloud but Dom had been hoping it'd be a few days, two weeks at most. He didn't want to be away from Marcus any longer than he had to be. Then there was Letty — her words had played on a loop in his head. Their conversation outside the car, the one from his dream. Everything was bringing his fears to the surface, no matter their age. "Whose ass would be on the line?"
"Yours," Deckard said. "Your team's."
If Cipher had kept a copy of God's Eye, she'd only have to use facial recognition and backtrack their movements. Toretto's face and those of his team would be on every camera between here and Los Angeles, providing a yellow brick road Cipher could follow all the way to Nowhere.
Given his family's not-so-discreet extraction from London and subsequent illegal entry into the States, it was doubtful that anyone was aware of Deckard's presence in the country, let alone that of his siblings. With any luck, he'd keep it that way. The last thing Deckard wanted was someone tipping off his grudge-holding enemies.
"Why?"
"Cipher doesn't know where we are, or of our involvement," Deckard said. Despite Hobbs' connections, he and Mr. Nobody seemed to be keeping the mission firmly below the radar. That was kind of a given when he thought about it, what with Cipher being their target. "The longer we stay in the shadows, the better the odds of catching her."
"That's bullshit," Brian interrupted. He looked at Dom, Hobbs, then at Shaw. The odds weren't going to increase by way of them sitting on their hands. "You expect us to take all the risk while you—"
"Let me make one thing clear: I don't care what you think, O'Conner. The only reason you're here is because Toretto couldn't get the job done properly in the first place."
Owen snorted, proceeding to cough into his sleeve. By his recollection, it was Deckard who'd let Cipher escape. He had also been responsible for Toretto escaping with his life, but Deckard didn't like being reminded of that. If not for his failures, none of them would be sitting there right now.
"Shaw." Luke threw Deckard a look that said 'shut up'. If he and his brother didn't cut the bullshit, Luke would drag them both to a cell and carry out the mission without them. "Let him finish."
"What you're going to do is cover our asses," Dom said. That military training had to be good for something. SBS, SAS, MI6 — the Shaws should've been able to catch Cipher in their sleep. "Now let me make something clear." He stood, braced his fists on the table and looked at Owen. "You stay away from my wife or I put you back in whatever grave you crawled out of."
Owen gave him a cold, insincere smile and rose to his feet. "Oh I'd be more worried about keeping your wife away from me, mate," he said coolly, in that same emotionless tone he'd used with Oakes that night in London. "Perhaps you forgot but we have a history. I don't suppose Letty ever told you how she got that scar on her thigh."
"Nobody will be burying anybody till this thing's over."
"Speak for yourself, Hobbs."
After that, Owen left the room, passing Roman, Tej and Ramsey on his way downstairs. All three were on the second flight of stairs, looking toward the mezzanine and the glass room. Had they been listening, he wondered, or simply watching the show unfold?
His footsteps echoed on the metal steps, causing Elizabeth to look up from the diagram she was sketching out. Owen didn't seem to be in a hurry but the way he carried himself suggested the opposite. He bore a lethal grace, the stride of someone who easily fit in amongst the upper echelons of society, and a look that said the next person who got in his way would be moved.
"Okay," she muttered, and stood. Elizabeth carried the sheaf to her workstation and tucked it into the top drawer, tossing her pencil in with the papers. On any other day, she might've gone after him and poked her nose into Owen's business. Common sense said right now, she was better off not doing so. "That's Deckard's problem today."
As they moved away from the stairs, Tej asked, "So what you thinking? Cipher's communicating with telnet? Bulletin boards aren't indexed."
"It's the obvious answer," Ramsey conceded. "Without an address, we'll struggle to find it."
There were too many possible combinations of words and letters and no way to search or scan them. What they needed was access to Cipher's plane. if it hadn't been stripped down, Ramsey could decrypt the hard drives and access the old servers. It seemed whether Hobbs liked it or not, they were going onboard and kicking down the door to Cipher's office.
"Alright, I know I said I wasn't getting on that thing but . . . what if we did use Cipher's plane?" Roman interrupted, a smile on his face that said he'd just solved their problem. "It ain't like they blew it up so all the computers would still be logged in, wouldn't they? Ain't nobody gotta fly it. We just leave it on the ground where it is."
"Good idea, man," Tej clapped him on the shoulder. "We were just thinking the exact same thing."
"See? What did I say? Great minds!" Roman gestured between them. He'd told them in the car that there were two teams: the whole team and their team. Their team would be the one to catch Cipher, assuming Tej did his part. "The three of us together? Unstoppable. I told y'all we got this."
"Man, two days ago you were shitting your pants."
"The woman tried to blow my ass up with a torpedo. When you gonna cut me some slack?"
"Never." He shook his head. Tej looked around the warehouse then back up at the glass-walled meeting room above his head. Inside it, he could still see Dom and Co. Good. It was time for another discussion. "Yeah, we need that plane, ASAP."
And what about the biometric security system? You'd need Cipher's palm print to get inside. Elizabeth listened as she worked. What they were talking about sounded right. Repurposing outdated tech was one of Cipher's specialties.
She reached for a small piece of C-2 plastic explosive and shaped it into a thick sausage. Once the explosive was stretched enough, she fitted it inside a plastic shell. There was no sense using C-4 if C-2 would do, though instinct said the extra force would be required to shatter the truck's hinges. It was only for testing anyway, to give her a rough idea of how the charges would need to be shaped. Targeted explosives was more Hattie's thing than hers.
"Planning on blowing something up?"
The first thing Elizabeth reached for was the soldering iron. Cold or hot, it was solid metal. Hand on the rubber grip, she glanced up to see Letty stood to her right, mug in hand. Beth relaxed back against her seat, heart beating a little faster from Letty's sudden appearance. Clearly it didn't matter who snuck up on her; regardless of gender, her survival instincts still kicked in.
Letty stepped back when Shaw (Volkova, whatever) gripped the iron. Jumpy much? "Hey, you good?"
"Yeah." She released the iron, shifted her grip to the arms of her chair. I just don't like being snuck up on."
"My bad."
Elizabeth shrugged as if to say it was no big deal. As with any sudden formation of a team, there'd be a learning curve eventually. She only had to weather it till they figured each other out. "And yes, I'm planning on blowing something up, once Hobbs arranges for a truck to be delivered."
"Ah, shit, so you're our Firuz," Letty chuckled. When her brain caught up with her mouth, her casual attitude faltered a little. The name had just slipped out and the memories with it. Them arriving at the yard, Ivory and Jah shooting the place up. Her standing there realising what just happened, what Owen's real orders were. "I take it you won't be driving with us then."
"No." She shook her head, propped her feet up on the desk and crossed her arms behind her head. If she told Letty that going over a hundred scared her, she'd probably laugh, or look at her like Elizabeth was crazy to be there if she couldn't handle being behind the wheel of a car at high speed. "All I get to do is sit here and wait, and wonder if my brothers are coming back.
Well that was morbid, not that Letty could blame her. Mia was probably thinking the exact same thing. Elena too. Herself as well, years ago. "I don't think they'll get taken out that easily."
"Tell that to Owen and Riley." For a moment, a brief flash of pain crossed Letty's face. Good. It seemed she remembered. Elizabeth didn't look at Letty when she spoke again, but she imagined there was another momentary reaction. "Doctors said it was a miracle he survived while she didn't. They found her dead in a ditch and him on a hillside, wishing he was."
"Letty knows what happened, Beth." Owen's voice carried across the room as he approached them. He hadn't heard most of their conversation but Riley's name had reached his ears. Was Elizabeth playing the patience game already? "She was there. They all were."
"You aren't the only one who lost a friend." Letty turned to face Owen. Whatever Elizabeth knew, she had a feeling it wasn't the complete truth. Owen Shaw was like a sphinx, all riddles and half-truths. You never knew if what he was telling you was what he thought you wanted to hear, or if the words coming from his mouth were genuine. "Your brother killed one of ours."
"Your friend made a mistake." He seated himself on a spare chair besides the desk. If Toretto wanted to force a distance between them, he was going to have to play bodyguard for Letty, or become a controlling, overbearing husband, in which case Letty would immediately push back against him. Either way, Toretto's behaviour would play right into his hands. "You make a mistake, you pay the—"
"One more word out of you and my boot gets planted in your face." Elizabeth stretched her leg towards him, glaring at Owen. "I don't want you scaring off one of the only other women in the building with your creepy fucking attitude."
"Trust me," Letty said, a hint of amusement to her voice, "your brother doesn't scare me."
She would give Owen this much: he had good timing. Toretto was upstairs, Letty was downstairs, and Wilson was seated a good fifteen metres away, watching her. The more they snarked at one another, the more casual they seemed. Elizabeth had told him she needed an in, and as a dutiful older brother, he was providing it.
"You can't be serious," Elizabeth said, tilting her head to look up at Letty. There was something about her that Elizabeth couldn't put her finger on. It wasn't her appearance, as beautiful as she was, nor her slightly rough voice that might've sent a shiver down her spine given the opportunity. Whatever it was, it made her feel at home, almost welcomed, like Letty was used to collecting strays. "He looks like Pazuzu, and when you make him angry, his head spins around."
Ain't that the truth. Letty tried to muffle her laughter with her hands. If she looked up at Dom and the others, would they have heard her? She proceeded to hold up her hands, palms outward, in mock apology. "No comment."
"Alright." Owen groaned. He hadn't seen Elizabeth like this since the day before she turned eighteen, giggling and laughing with Hattie. Nor Letty since the last time she and Vegh had been together in the same room, talking trash about some wanker at a street race. Despite their differences, Vegh had taken to Letty like a duck to water. "If all you're going to do is sit there and chat, the least you can do is make me a builders."
"You can get it yourself." Elizabeth waved him off. "I still need to double-check that the Gurney equation's right."
"That's the one that tells you the initial velocity of shrapnel, isn't it?" Despite threatening to make Klaus 'Team Pussy', Letty had paid attention when he and Ivory started talking jargon. Never in her life had Letty thought she'd use the information but there it was. "If you need a calculator, I've got a cell right here."
She sat upright, dropping her feet and staring at Letty in surprise. There wasn't anything about her that suggested she was an explosives technician and yet she knew the Gurney equation? Wow. Now Elizabeth was impressed. She, Letty, really was one hell of a woman. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," Letty pulled her phone from her pocket and set it on the desk. She knew the basics of the math Shaw was trying to do. It wasn't pretty. "Can't get a signal but everything else still works."
"Oh thank you, God." Elizabeth snatched it up and opened the calculator, quickly typing in the equation. "Mine's back in Cuba. I didn't even get to pack a bag before they grabbed me. I haven't changed clothes in almost two days and my dating life just went down the—"
Right. That was all irrelevant now, nor did anyone need to know that she even had a dating life. Least of all did they need to be told how long the three of them had been stuck there for. Beth wrote down the results on the screen next to the rest of her notes then handed the phone back to Letty with a sigh of relief. "Thank you."
Letty pocketed her cell and took off towards the mezzanine. Not all Shaws were assholes, it seemed. That was good to know. "No problem. Come find me when that truck gets here, will you?"
"Sure." She smiled and watched Letty walk off. Pen in hand, Elizabeth tapped it against her bottom lip and turned herself around to stare over Owen's shoulder. I just have to ask Hobbs for it first. "Of course."
Once Letty was out of earshot, Owen scooted his chair closer to the desk. Clearly that had gone off without a hitch. Internally, Beth would be beaming. Everything about her posture had changed. A light that normally only Hattie could bring about had returned to her eyes too. "You like her already, don't you?"
"That has no bearing on—" She groaned and stood, grabbed the styrofoam cup off her desk and gestured towards the kitchenette at the other end of the warehouse. Time for a tea break. "Yes, I like her, and if I'd met her in a bar five days ago, I would've seduced her fucking pants off."
"You're smitten."
"I've talked to her twice, Owen. Show a little class."
"You kissed Lisa Collins on the first date."
"Lisa Collins doesn't count." Besides, she'd been sixteen. Although given his limited knowledge of her dating life, it was no surprise he was dredging up what was more or less ancient history. "And my general rule of thumb is I don't get involved with married women, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate them from afar."