Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Getting into her flat was fairly easy, as was stealing the keys while she was in the shower. The hardest part would be putting them back after copying the keys with the key duplication kit he had grabbed from the gang’s supply closet before leaving.
But as he took a good look at the keys, Sam frowned unhappily. They were high security keys that were impossible to copy. He should have expected that it wouldn’t be so easy. Now he would have to hope the woman wouldn’t notice the missing keys and warn Demidov’s security too soon.
Since time was of the essence, Sam headed back to Demidov’s house as fast as he could.
It was completely dark by the time he got there.
As far as he could tell after hours of watching the house, there were six security guards, but most of them seemed to be in what he guessed was the security room, and only two guards seemed to regularly patrol the house. It was going to be a challenge, but he hadn’t received the moniker of Shadow for nothing.
Sam held his breath as he used the housekeeper’s keys to open the front door. There was a small chance that it would notify security, but nothing happened. The house remained mostly quiet. He could hear muffled male voices from one of the rooms, but the door was closed and it wasn’t hard to sneak past.
The hardest part was to sneak past security cameras. Thankfully, Dominic’s tips on how to find blind spots of cameras came in handy and Sam didn’t get caught. But his progress was frustratingly slow, and Sam found his heart beating faster and faster the more time passed.
Although it had been a while since he’d participated in a burglary—it wasn’t his specialty—Sam’s past experience helped him a lot to navigate through an unfamiliar house. But his progress wasn’t helped by the fact that a few times Sam had to duck into rooms and hide when the patrolling guards passed him. God, his heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. He was usually much calmer when he was working, but this time he wasn’t breaking into some innocent civilian’s house. If he got caught, they wouldn’t call the police.
Finally, on the third floor, he came across a locked hardwood door with a smartlock. Bingo.
Careful not to touch the door, Sam eyed the lock for a few moments before smiling. Honestly. He had expected better from Demidov.
Rich people and their obsession with everything expensive and fancy.
Sam shook his head and opened his bag. To be fair, this smartlock had some pretty neat features and was impossible to lock pick by normal means, but it had a major security flaw. The smartkey deadbolt could be broken into essentially with a screwdriver and a torque wrench. To be fair, it couldn’t be done by amateurs—the lock would be jammed if he got the angle wrong—but luckily, Sam wasn’t an amateur.
Pulling out the necessary tools, Sam glanced around, straining his hearing—although he couldn’t hear the guards, it didn’t mean they weren’t close—but everything was quiet.
Biting his lip in concentration, Sam slipped a piece of blank key into the lock, and then jammed his screwdriver in behind it, with as much force as he could. Wincing a little at the noise, Sam clamped down his wrench and turned the screwdriver at the angle needed.
The lock turned and Sam slipped inside, his heart hammering in his chest. He half-expected to hear the guards come running, but there must not have been as much noise as he had imagined.
Calming down when nothing happened, Sam turned on his torch and looked around. It was an office, as he’d expected. Thankfully, there weren’t any security cameras in the room.
Sam walked to the desk and turned on the computer. While it booted up, he searched the desk’s drawers. There were a lot of important-looking documents, but most of them were in Russian. It was immensely frustrating, considering that he wasn’t sure what he was even looking for. Ideally, it would be something that would prove that Roman Demidov and Luke Whitford were behind Richard Whitford’s death, but any kind of proof of their crimes would be good enough for him.
You don’t give a shit about their crimes, a snide voice said at the back of his mind. The only thing you want is to please Dominic and have a reason to contact him.
Sam pursed his lips, opening another drawer. Of course he cared about stopping bad people.
And you’re a good one? the voice whispered with a scoff. Breaking into someone’s house just because you’re dying for a reason to see Nick. Fucking pathetic. He probably doesn’t even remember you. He’s a professional spy. He would have found you if he really tried. If he really wanted.