Providence Descending - Sarah Boone (epub e ink reader txt) 📗

footsteps a couple halls over.
“Shit, shit!” she gasped. “Come on, come on!”
Lucy found the right key and shoved it into the slot, then pressed the button for the fourth floor, just to be safe. There had to be another way out. A back door. An access shaft. A fire escape. She tried to imagine the map of the building in her mind. There must be something she'd forgotten, something she didn't notice. There had to be.

Chapter Six – Last Night

Lucy went over the contents of Jimmy's envelope at the kitchen table in her apartment. The first thing she saw was the map, titled: Federal Credit Building. She let it fall on the table, paralyzed by disbelief. Not only was this place a twenty-two story labyrinth, it was also one of the most heavily guarded buildings in the history of the United States. And here's the funny part: there wasn't even any money in it.
Like a library for the IRS, the Federal Credit Building held all the personal files of U.S. Citizens: credit files, loans, bank accounts, tax returns, and all other pieces of paperwork that drive those citizens insane on or around the date of April 15th.
She looked the map over. The building was structured like a hollow rectangle, with floating glass hallways strewn across the center space like an intense game of Ker-Plunk for the first ten floors. These were public office floors to which civilians had access. Lucy wasn't sure what went on further up.
She looked at the other items inside the envelope – a driver's license with her picture, deeming her Anna Providence, and a resume claiming her to be an audit consultant, whatever the hell that was. Last was a sheet of word-processed instructions.
Number one -You have a meeting with Richard Gray, head of the Financial Credibility Department. Job interview. Eighth floor. 9 am. Make sure to arrive before 8 am.

Chapter Seven – This Morning

Lucy woke at seven, showered, fixed her hair and makeup, and dressed in a low cut turquoise sweater, dress pants, and gold, shiny flats. Looking good but not memorable was the key to pulling a job like this, a job that was 5% research, 20% planning, and 70% improvisation.
The last piece of her outfit was a pair of lock picks, encased in a small leather pouch, that she tucked inside the waste band of her black slacks. She was almost finished pinning it in place when the ground below her began to shake. Her coffee cup on the counter fell down to the tile and shattered.
An earthquake.
Lucy went over to stand in her bedroom doorway and waited for the tremors to end. Other items came crashing down, a hanging photo of her and her father, and more dishes from the cabinets, but Lucy had no time to clean them up. After the earthquake stopped she waited thirty seconds before going down to get a cab.
She decided she would tip the driver extra in the hope that karma might look out for her today. Five years was a long time. She wasn't completely sure if she could handle another big job after five years of dormancy. She felt rusty.
“Did you feel the earthquake, miss?” The cabbie asked. “I couldn't, since I was in the car and such, but the news said it was a big one, said it was a 6.4.”
“Oh yeah, I felt it.”
“Where you headed, miss?”
“Federal Credit Building,” Lucy said.
“Got a claim to settle or something?”
Lucy shook her head. “Job interview.”
“Can't reschedule?”
“Nope.”
“I'm just saying,” he continued, “on the news they were warning about aftershocks and what not. Wouldn't go into a big building like that if I was you. I mean, I hope this job is really important.”
He pulled up to the curb; Lucy handed him the cash with a smile. “Oh yeah, it's life and death.”
“Well, I wish you good luck.”
Lucy got out of the cab. “Thank you. Have a good one.”
There stood a security checkpoint just at the edge of the courtyard. Lucy put her purse in the plastic bin and spread her arms out for the guard with the metal detector, just like the dozens of people in line before her.
This was the guard she would later ram with an office chair. His scanner buzzed when he ran it over her abdomen. “And what could you have under there?” Officer Dave asked, a light tone that was littered with suspicion.
Lucy smiled. “Belly button ring,” she said.
He grinned, looking her over, reevaluating. “Go ahead. Have a nice day.”
Lucy retrieved her purse. “You too.”
Number two – Check in. Proceed to floor four. Office of Peg Hurst, room 463. Two kids: Kayla and Donnie. Address: 216 Chestnut.
Lucy navigated the glass hallways, ramps going up and down, sometimes only straight across; the building was a labyrinth indeed. She passed a man in a hard hat and cover-alls, an electrician or utility worker of some sort.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
He responded with, “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” she said. “Do you think you can help me? I'm having trouble finding the fourth floor.”
He pointed back the way she came. “Elevator's easiest way.”
“Uh, not for me,” she said.
“ You're scared of elevators?” he asked, teasing. His bright, friendly eyes took her by surprise. “You know, the elevators here are really safe. I tune them up myself.”
“All the same,” Lucy replied. “Is there another way?”
The man in the hard hat pointed back the way he came. “Make a left, then a right. There's a stairwell door next to the water fountain. Two more floors up and you'll be in the right place.”
“Thank you.”
“You have a good day now.”
Lucy climbed the four flights of stairs up to the right floor, emerging across the hall from the elevator and the front desk. The marquee across the wall read : Registered Assets Census. Lucy walked on; she smiled at the receptionists like she was entitled to be there. The door to room 463 was closed and locked. She passed by a little kitchen, inhabited by office workers consuming coffee and donuts. A woman, dressed in a business suit of all red, noticed her.
“Looking for Peg?” the woman called.
Lucy tried to distort her image with the side of the door frame. “Yes. Do you know where I can find her?”
“Peg's always late Friday mornings. Do you have an appointment?”
“Job interview.”
The woman stepped out. “Hi, I'm Stacey Rush, Branch Manager. I do all the interviews on this floor. I didn't even know that we were hiring. Are you sure you're in the right place?”
“I don't know.” Lucy shrugged. “The information desk on the first floor sent me here. I think I'll go back down and see if there was a mix up.”
Lucy went back to Peg's door and knocked. There was no answer. She scanned the hallway for security cameras, seeing only one at the far end, in the corner, facing the elevator. Lucy pulled out her lock-picks and went to work on opening Peg Hurt's office.

Chapter Eight – Waiting

Her father always said that her impatience was her only flaw when working a job. “Lucy,” he'd say, “we're not after the gingerbread man. We're after money, and money don't have any feet. That's what's great about it. It stays put.”
When learning under her father's wing, she'd practiced waiting patiently, she'd practiced timing and strategy. For Lucy though, it was never really about money; it was about the thrill. Carl planned heists carefully. Lucy loved to rush into them head first and improvise.
She attempted only one job without daddy dearest, six years ago, an overnight bank job. The night before the robbery, Lucy and her boyfriend Topher stowed away in the building adjacent to the bank and drilled a crawl hole through the bathroom wall.
Lucy met Topher as a teenager, when they'd seen each other shop-lifting in a department store, and they'd been madly in love ever since – the kind of love shared by two people so similar that they got on each others nerves constantly, but also appreciated each other like no one else could. It was a love that they'd decided to make last a lifetime.
“It's not like we're going to live long anyway,” said Topher at the end of his proposal, where he knelt there in the dimly lit bathroom, a black shadow against the cold, white tile. “So, what do you say? Wanna, I don't know, maybe, marry me?”
Lucy jumped into his arms, giggling “Yes, yes! Of course I'll marry you!”
They took turns manning the drill until the hole was finished. Lucy rolled over onto her side, smiling at her new fiance. “Now all we can do is wait until six when the manager gets here.”
Topher searched her blank eyes. “You hate this, don't you?”
“Hate what?”
“Waiting.”
“Yes, I hate waiting. Oh man, do I hate just sitting here and doing nothing. I want action, Topher, you know? Dad's always saying be patient, wait things out, but I just want to move. Chase and be chased.”
Topher rolled over on top of Lucy and kissed the inside of her neck. “I've got a productive and active way to pass the time. Since you hate waiting, I figure we should get married as soon as possible. How's tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow sounds wonderful.” Lucy pulled him closer, the only thing good and pure about her wretched life, and they made love on that cold bathroom tile, both warmed and comforted by their unity of passion.

Chapter Nine – Peg is Always Late on Fridays

Impatience was all Lucy felt, waiting in Peg Hurt's office. She went over the rest of Jimmy's instructions in her head.
Number three – Persuade Peg to pull bank account of Raoul Bender and change the balance to twenty million dollars. Have Peg print out the new account balance. Demand a file called The Warner File.
“Coward,” Lucy muttered to herself. Jimmy was never one to involve himself in any kind of dirty work, but Lucy figured even cyber-thievery was below him. She liked stealing cold hard cash more than computer work. Hacking and stealing, stealing with a computer, presented no challenge. It was just numbers on a screen; they didn't have smell or a feel like cash did. In Lucy's mind, they didn't even have a value.
Number four – Proceed to seventh floor, IT control room. Destroy system. All records must remain untraceable. Make sure there's nothing left.
Number Five – Exit building. Enter black SUV across street from Southwest Entrance. You must have the changed account and Warner File. Lack of one or both means definite termination.
Five was the last step on the list. Peg hadn't yet arrive, so Lucy proceeded to go over the map in her head – IT room, stairwells, points of escape. Then she polished her lock-picks before returning them to her belt. She filed her nails with a letter opener. Then she whistled Tom Petty's “Free-Falling” three times through. A tapping foot and twitching fingers – Lucy was starting to get antsy. The job began to feel more and more like a set-up.
A shadow passed in front of the door. Lucy slunk back into the shadows, tucking the letter opener in her sleeve.
Not one silhouette but two entered the office, tumbled in rather, a heaving mass of wandering hands and sharp breaths.
So that's why Peg was always late on Fridays.
Peg's friend kicked the door shut behind them, then he picked Peg up and sat her on the desk. Lucy went to the door and turned the lock. At the sound