She had no idea how Aleksei expected her to do this alone. It was a fucking suicide run. A team—getaway driver, muscle, inside man, anyone with an IQ over seventy—felt completely necessary. Was this cost cutting? If the product was worth this much, then Aleksei should have been willing to part with ten to fifteen percent of the take. Fantine sighed and studied the documents again. She tried her best to ignore the mounting pressure behind her eyes.
“You busy?” Pete knew better than to walk into her room, but he did because he was a dick.
Fantine kept her back to him. She could smell the skunk weed he probably just kicked in the living room waft into her bedroom—an annoyance she always complained about. Fantine wrote some notes on the margin of the floorplan and went back to researching her work files for any contracts with the sperm bank. So far no results. “We’re definitely not on small-talk terms. Business or get the fuck out.”
Pete ran a hand through his hair. He grimaced as he inspected his hand. “I get it, I fucked up. I don’t have to be run over the fucking coals all day.”
Fantine raised her hand and counted off with her fingers. “One: of course you do. That’s how you learn. Two: this is not business talk. Three: it’s ‘raked over the coals,’ stupid.” She lowered her hand and inspected a folder that turned up when she searched for the address of the sperm bank. She narrowed her eyes. The lease and assorted licenses were owned by a company called King of Pl. Holdings. “PL?” she muttered to herself. “What does stand for?” She closed the file window. She was only clinging to superfluous details to avoid Pete.
“So this is how it’s going to be?” The nerve of him to be confrontational.
Fantine rolled her eyes. He was trying to instigate an argument for attention. It dawned on her that he’d never changed since they met in that smoky bar in the middle of the Bronx—still struggling to get in an extra game on that old Galaga arcade game even when it wasn’t his turn. Pete was mentally nine years old and his parents never let him step out of range. Now, as an adult, without experience, a guy like him got eaten alive the minute the real world got too real. That was a bright spot in Fantine’s life; she never had to worry about the grown-up situations because they had always been there. Sure, it hurt to be so mad at Pete—he was the first friend of the same age she ever had—but it didn’t excuse him.
Fantine turned her chair. “Look. I get it. You think sorry and puppy dog faces solve your problems, and to be honest, maybe it does with most of the people you know. With me? Not so much.” She stood. “You want to make it up to me? Shut the fuck up, do your part, and leave me the fuck alone when we’re all done with this bullshit. Stop moping like you’ve got the burden here.”
“I had no other choice.”
“You’ve explained yourself a thousand times. I don’t give a shit, Pete.” She crossed her arms. “I’ll say it one more time: Business? Talk. No? Beat it. I lost my job today, so I need to treat this like it’s my career again or I’ll scream.”
“Fine, fine.” Pete reached into a back pocket and held out a pamphlet. “There was a fuck up.”
Fantine snatched the pamphlet away. It was for a security system a rival company put together. They didn’t offer anything beyond what Fantine’s former employer did, but the superficial differences could lead to new, awful places. “Please tell me this doesn’t mean…”
“That your company has nothing to do with this place?” Pete frowned. “Sorry.”
Fantine had to laugh. “Wow, just wow.” She thumbed through the pamphlet. “You people are fucking idiots. It’s becoming obvious that my mom must have done a lot of planning for your dad.” That was trouble because Fantine knew she was nowhere near as crafty or strategy-minded as her mother. Had she been involved, Fantine’s mother would have finished the job already and been on a flight to somewhere tropical with the family in tow. She was better at thinking on her feet, Fantine; not so much.
Back at her desk, Fantine opened a file document with a rough draft of instructions for industrial-grade locks. “Thankfully, this kind of crap gets copied all the time. My place totally has their own version of these locks and keypad combos.”
Pete ventured further into the room—only a few steps. “Are they the same?”
“No. Never the same, but built in the same spirit—if that makes sense. The software is proprietary, but there are only so many ways you’re going to build a lock. Hell, the basic concept hasn’t really been improved on since they decided that something small should keep people from opening something big to get to something small.” Fantine tied her hair back into a loose ponytail. “This is an industry that depends on symmetry. Locksmiths couldn’t be in business if absolutely everything was different.”
Pete nodded then frowned again. “I’m not following.”
“It means I can still open your stupid locks. Just because I work for one place, doesn’t mean I can’t figure out another product. Unless these guys are rocking retinal scanners.” Fantine opened the pamphlet and pointed at a page detailing scanners and prices. She dug into the files on her computer and spotted the retinal scanner kiosks on the floorplan. “And of course they are.”
Pete leaned in. “Is there a way around that?”
Fantine thought. “Maybe…there are ways to reproduce iris patterns, but I’m not rich enough to have that kind of tech. I’m also not a hacker, so it isn’t like I can get my hands on the data without looping someone else in.” She picked up a pencil and gnawed on the end. “Unless they’re really dumb and keep all the security info on the employee IDs. It’s a corner cut. You store the bulk of info on the ID and cross check only a few identifying items so you keep network storage costs low.” It was a long shot, but if Aleksei ran things so ramshackle, maybe whoever was collecting fancy sperm did too.
Pete sat at the edge of Fantine’s bed. He picked up the bolt from a door lock Fantine disassembled earlier. “That’s some James Bond shit, right there.”
Fantine shrugged. “I don’t see another way. Not like your dad is going to say, Oh, can’t do it? Okay, cool,” she mimicked Aleksei’s accent. “We’re going to have go to the sperm bank first thing in the morning.”
Pete jerked his head up. “We?”
“Yep, we.”
“Why we?”
Fantine turned to him with a grin. “Nobody’s believing that I’m there to make a deposit. Besides, if your asshole father won’t get me a team, then I call dibs on calling in favors. You luck out since I have a total of zero other choices.”
The words took a minute to process for Pete. His eyes widened. “Nope.”
“Yep. I’ve already been there. It’s the only way.”
“Couldn’t you like, track an employee home or something?”
“We don’t have time. If your father wants this done as soon as possible, then it needs to happen tomorrow.” Fantine went back to her laptop. “Hell, there’s already the massive problem with your dad having me there to literally talk about the damn heist. Who does that, by the way?”
Pete frowned. “Yeah, he’s got a way of strong-arming.” He stared at the wall for a minute. “To be honest, I have no idea how he’s managed to live this long.”