Butterfly Stomp Waltz

Chapter 5

5

Everything changes in a flash.

Standing on this wire mesh floor, with fifty-some airy mesh floors between me and the bottom of the sub-basement, warm oily air rising from below, my heart is suddenly doing triple time.

I hadn’t exactly dawdled, but I hadn’t done everything as quickly as possible either. I’d climbed the slick glass outside walls at a fairly comfortable pace, taken the time to pick a lock by hand, clambered up the wiring shaft ladder like I was playfully climbing an apple tree. The leisurely stretch had been mandatory, but I could have shaved half an hour or so off of the whole thing.

Butterfly’s security people would have checked that access door before they left.

Someone had beat me here.

Illicitly entered through this door.

Tonight.

This gig has gone totally fubar.

Pull out, I think. Abort.

Beneath the skintight dark green jumpsuit, a dot of sweat trickles down my spine.

A fine tension ripples down my shoulders, my arms, my legs.

My brain overrides the fight-or-flight impulse.

Every floor of the Embassy Building except forty-one is in use and alarmed. When I’d cut a hole into the glass, the floor still had overpressure. The perps hadn’t come in the same way I did. They used the same wiring shaft to enter Butterfly, though. They probably either did a roof entrance with a helicopter, or got working passcards and waltzed right in the front door.

Had the perps killed the security guards? Tied them up? Or were the guards oblivious behind their big desk, eating fries and talking smack?

How had the perps disabled the alarms? Would my circumvention clash with their circumvention? Had I summoned the SWAT team?

And what did the perps want? Was this a smash-and-grab? A quiet exfiltration? Blow out the whole floor?

A squad of testosterone-crazed commandos or one lone sneaky woman?

This is nuts, I think. Smart thing to do is abort. You’re the smart one, remember?

Whenever a gig slid sideways, whenever the ground rules completely changed halfway through, I’d usually push hard to cancel. Back off, try again. Others (Deke) said we should continue, that things always went wrong and that we—I had the skills to pull things off.

It’s always a decision.

A team decides before they start who gets to make that decision.

I’m the team.

I was going to sleep in the van tonight, no matter what.

The only question was, would I sleep the sleep of the just, or stay awake frustrated that I’d missed my chance?

I’m not usually the angry one.

I guess that’s my job now too.

So let’s get through that door.