That Time in Cairo by Logan Ryles (books to read in a lifetime .txt) 📗

“Copy that, Charlie One,” Edric replied. “Charlie Three, deploy.”

Wolfgang accepted the paper bag from Kevin, then hurried across the street. Now that his mind had calmed a little from the panic, he could smell the rich aroma of Chinese food from the bag—takeout, from a local place a couple blocks away. It was a favorite of Pollins’s, according to her sister, a place she ordered from often while working late, although he doubted she’d ever ordered takeout that weighed over twenty pounds.

He mounted the steps to the glass door at the bottom of the tower and paused to catch his breath. He smoothed wrinkles out of his shirt and ran a hand through his hair, then depressed the call button. It buzzed.

The answering voice spoke in Arabic. “Marhabaan?”

“Food delivery for unit eighteen oh nine,” Wolfgang said, figuring that somebody on the other side had to speak English.

Silence from the other end.

Wolfgang heard Megan speaking through the coms, her voice soft and sleepy, with a hint of a fake British accent. It wasn’t half bad.

“Hello? Yeah . . . no, I triggered it by mistake. Yeah, I ordered some food. Let him up.”

Another pause, then the lock clicked and Wolfgang pushed inside. The desk guard motioned him over and gestured to the bag. Wolfgang set it on the counter, careful to avoid any slamming or clinking sounds, and untied the top. The guard clicked a light on and scanned the top of the bag, sniffing and poking at the paper cartons.

“ID?” he asked.

Wolfgang passed him a Canadian passport for Timothy Jenkins, a student from Toronto.

The guard checked the image, then flipped to the back and inspected the Egyptian visa. At last, he nodded and handed the passport back. “The elevator is to your left, Mr. Jenkins.”

8

Pollins’s apartment was dark and smelled clean. Wolfgang slipped inside and flipped the lights on. Megan rattled around in the next room, and books thumped against a table.

“You find it?” Wolfgang whispered.

He crossed into the main living room and looked around. The interior of the apartment was sparsely furnished, with only a few decorations, all of which seemed to have something to do with Ancient Egypt. There was a desk along one wall, and Megan was bent over it, clicking on a computer, her bare feet planted in the soft carpet.

“The pictures aren’t here, and I can’t find any notes,” she said without looking up. “The computer is locked, also.”

“What about the safe?” Wolfgang asked.

Megan motioned to the far wall of the living room, opposite the balcony door where she entered. A canvas painting leaned against the sheetrock, exposing the metal face of a small safe in the middle of the wall, complete with a digital keypad and a metal lever.

Wolfgang walked to the safe and set the Chinese food down. The safe-cracking tools hidden in the bottom of the bag clinked, and he ran his hand across the face of the safe. It was a premium unit, built of thick steel with almost no gap between the door and the frame. He grabbed the bolt lever and pulled, curious if the safe would wiggle in the wall. It didn’t budge.

“Charlie One, sitrep,” Edric said.

“Charlie Three is here,” Megan said. “Apartment is clean. Moving to wall safe.”

“Copy that. Get a move on. You’ve already been in there ten minutes.”

Megan motioned Wolfgang aside, then clicked her flashlight on and scanned the safe. She gestured to the bag. “Get that crap out of here. It stinks.”

Wolfgang scooped the food cartons out of the bag and slid them across the tile floor, then he began to unpack the safe-cracking tools.

“You don’t like Chinese food?” he asked.

“Not when it’s made of goat.”

“Goat? What makes you think it’s made of goat?”

Megan snorted. “You think it’s pork? This is Egypt. Hand me the stethoscope.”

Wolfgang handed her the stethoscope, and she fit the earpieces in before pressing the cup over the face of the safe and twisting the bolt lever. She closed her eyes and bit the tip of her tongue. Wolfgang caught himself holding his own breath as he watched her slide the cup of the stethoscope over the face of the safe while manipulating the bolt lever.

Megan sighed. “It’s fitted with a relocking system,” she said, peeling the stethoscope off and tossing it to the floor.

“What does that mean?” Wolfgang asked.

“It means that if we defeat the primary bolt by force, secondary bolts will click into place and prevent us from opening it. We need the combination. Hand me the computer.”

Wolfgang dug back into the bottom of the bag, bypassing the complex levers, screws, and the drill that would’ve been used to force the safe open. He found a handheld computer at the bottom of the pile, a little larger than a cell phone, with a black wire dangling from the bottom. Megan accepted it and peered under the edge of the keypad. There was a port, which the cable connected to with a soft click. Megan powered the unit on and tapped on it.

“Does the computer guess the combination?” Wolfgang asked.

Megan shook her head with a semi-irritated grunt. “The computer is for unlocking the safe in the event the battery in the primary keypad dies. That’s the legal application, anyway. You can also use it to read diagnostics on weak or worn parts, which can give you an idea which keys are pressed most often. Charlie Eye, you with me?”

“Right here, Charlie One,” Lyle said.

Megan read off the safe’s model number, printed on the bottom right-hand corner of the door. Wolfgang heard the rattle of Lyle’s keyboard on the other end of the coms, then a grunt.

“It’s a good unit. The combination will be between eight and ten digits long, followed by pound. It’s also got a lockout feature. If you input the wrong combination six times within a twenty-four-hour rolling period, the safe will lock down for twelve hours.”

“Fantastic,” Megan said. She poked at the handheld computer for a moment, then waited while a loading icon spun