"How long do we have to wait?" she asked for the tenth time, looking at her digital watch. "Spankin' never took so long to deactivate some cameras. If somebody comes here to—"
"No one's gonna come, Clark," he sighed, leaning against the door of the janitor's room, in the far away part of the parking lot, near the sewers. He pushed some mops to the side and sat on the ground, letting a small grunt escape. "Spankin' knows what she's doing. If we get on that elevator with the systems running, we'll take a tour in a Turkish prison. And believe me, this is a tour you don't wanna take."
She laughed, and the sound took over the small room. Hopkins adjusted his black gloves. "Well, and what do we do while waiting?" she complained, and started to read the names of chemical products on the metal shelves. He always found fascinating how she couldn't stand still. "Shit. I knew I should've brought a book."
He smirked, eyeing her. "I have some ideas."
"Of course you do, handsome. You and Charlie always have good ideas, but poor timing," Clark said in a dragged voice, and pulled on her ponytail, resting her green eyes on the janitor's locker. Hopkins scoffed when he heard that name. She smirked. "Men. You're like babies."
He laughed, humorlessly, and shook his head. Unbelievable.
"I've been in jail because of you and this guy. I'm sorry if I don't like his face."
Arab Emirates, 2006. Turkey, 2012. Damn Charles Barlow.
"You've been in jail because you were arrested, Hopkins. Don't blame Charlie for your incompetence."
"He was the damn driver and left me behind twice! Twice! I don't believe you called this guy again," he complained a little louder. "If it wasn't for Spankin', I'd be—"
Static. They pressed the ear communicators at the same time.
"I'm sorry to interrupt the love birds, but I took down the jewelry's security system. Images are being transmitted in looping, so you better hurry."