The depository on Lemaire smelled like cold and polish. Nora hacked the second camera loop as Emilia slipped through the side door and found the narrow hall holding its breath. Rafael stood with a banker’s box at his feet and a second tucked under his arm. Elena leaned against a filing cabinet, calm as a metronome.
“What’s breathing?” Emilia asked.
Rafael nudged a door with his toe. Inside, a guard snored on a stool, headphones crooked, a paperback face down on his lap.
“Thanks for the nap, friend,” Elena murmured.
Nora’s voice buzzed in their ears. “Two minutes before the loop gets chatty. Out the maintenance door, right, then left. I’ll pop the alley gate.”
They moved. Emilia took the Atlas box, light hands, steady pace. Rafael carried the paper haul with the kind of care he usually
