he’d
only recently met. In these situations sex, even great sex, didn’t
count for much. A court conviction for industrial espionage meant
serious time in a penitentiary, and he had been set-up before.
He ran a dry tongue across parched lips and
made a visual pace count to the stairs. As if expecting an
explosion he took a half step toward the exit and pulled the card
through the groove.
The silence deafened.
He punched in the numbers. It was still
quiet. He discounted the possibility of silent alarms. Those were
generally backed up with cameras of which there were none inside
the building. That’s what the guards were for.
Putting the card in his pocket he opened the
door to a dimly lit room that was about four metres square with a
high ceiling. Illumination from the outside stadium lights and a
twin set of computer monitors running screensavers of swimming fish
provided adequate visibility to spot the target.
On the left wall, large and looming, was a
fireproof safe that likely housed all of the sensitive material.
Next to it, to hold less crucial data, was a pair of four-drawer
filing cabinets. The sturdy American Vault Corporation strongbox
would be a formidable challenge to any safecracker—certainly beyond
Svoljsak’s skills. Fortunately, his objective was stored in one of
the two filing cabinets, and a quick appraisal told him it didn’t
really matter which one. They were both locked but with a little
effort he wrestled one away from the wall, tipped it back, and
released the mechanism from beneath.
So far, so good.
Now, Roger, he thought, did you leave
something worthwhile in here or is this just a big waste of
time?
The top drawer revealed two rows of
compact-disc cases. Some were singles while others held two or more
of the discs. The ability to accommodate vast amounts of
information made CD’s the current archive choice for many Hi-tech
companies.
The labels had small print and were difficult
to read. Svoljsak probed his breast pocket for a penlight and
realized he’d left his large flashlight standing, sentry-like,
outside the door. He assessed the risk, decided to leave it there,
and aimed the penlight’s tiny beam into the drawer. His fingers
flipped through the plastic cases until he found one with a sticker
marked RA—Archive , and backdated two years.
The best place to hide a tree is in a forest,
he thought, as he pulled the case from its mates.
There was a UPC barcode affixed to the back
that matched the tag on the disc inside. There was no way of
removing the sticker without damaging the disc; and the disc
couldn’t pass through the detector downstairs without being
officially ‘checked out’. It was a problem Svoljsak had prepared
for but he needed to tidy up the room before taking the next
step.
He toyed with the notion of grabbing a few
more of the discs but didn’t really know what to look for. The
prime stuff was probably locked in the safe, anyway. He shut the
drawer and was about to push the cabinet back to the wall when a
sustained rattle at the door froze him in place.
Not daring even to breath, his mind raced for
an alibi but the scene would speak for itself. He would have to
make a break for it, perhaps even fight his way out. Guards in this
building were not issued firearms but the other guy had seemed
pretty fit and Svoljsak cursed himself for leaving his flashlight
at the door.
The door that wasn’t opening.
The vent above it rattled again as more
turbulence moved through the ducts. Svoljsak lowered his head,
exhaled slowly, then straightened up and willed himself to finish
the job.
Original to the building, the large
wood-framed windows had three sections of which the tops and
bottoms cranked open. On the outer side, bars and mesh had been
added at some point in time to keep out undesirables which, at this
height, consisted mostly of pigeons.
From his breast pocket he extracted a small
square of cardboard around which was spooled a long length of nylon
fishing
only recently met. In these situations sex, even great sex, didn’t
count for much. A court conviction for industrial espionage meant
serious time in a penitentiary, and he had been set-up before.
He ran a dry tongue across parched lips and
made a visual pace count to the stairs. As if expecting an
explosion he took a half step toward the exit and pulled the card
through the groove.
The silence deafened.
He punched in the numbers. It was still
quiet. He discounted the possibility of silent alarms. Those were
generally backed up with cameras of which there were none inside
the building. That’s what the guards were for.
Putting the card in his pocket he opened the
door to a dimly lit room that was about four metres square with a
high ceiling. Illumination from the outside stadium lights and a
twin set of computer monitors running screensavers of swimming fish
provided adequate visibility to spot the target.
On the left wall, large and looming, was a
fireproof safe that likely housed all of the sensitive material.
Next to it, to hold less crucial data, was a pair of four-drawer
filing cabinets. The sturdy American Vault Corporation strongbox
would be a formidable challenge to any safecracker—certainly beyond
Svoljsak’s skills. Fortunately, his objective was stored in one of
the two filing cabinets, and a quick appraisal told him it didn’t
really matter which one. They were both locked but with a little
effort he wrestled one away from the wall, tipped it back, and
released the mechanism from beneath.
So far, so good.
Now, Roger, he thought, did you leave
something worthwhile in here or is this just a big waste of
time?
The top drawer revealed two rows of
compact-disc cases. Some were singles while others held two or more
of the discs. The ability to accommodate vast amounts of
information made CD’s the current archive choice for many Hi-tech
companies.
The labels had small print and were difficult
to read. Svoljsak probed his breast pocket for a penlight and
realized he’d left his large flashlight standing, sentry-like,
outside the door. He assessed the risk, decided to leave it there,
and aimed the penlight’s tiny beam into the drawer. His fingers
flipped through the plastic cases until he found one with a sticker
marked RA—Archive , and backdated two years.
The best place to hide a tree is in a forest,
he thought, as he pulled the case from its mates.
There was a UPC barcode affixed to the back
that matched the tag on the disc inside. There was no way of
removing the sticker without damaging the disc; and the disc
couldn’t pass through the detector downstairs without being
officially ‘checked out’. It was a problem Svoljsak had prepared
for but he needed to tidy up the room before taking the next
step.
He toyed with the notion of grabbing a few
more of the discs but didn’t really know what to look for. The
prime stuff was probably locked in the safe, anyway. He shut the
drawer and was about to push the cabinet back to the wall when a
sustained rattle at the door froze him in place.
Not daring even to breath, his mind raced for
an alibi but the scene would speak for itself. He would have to
make a break for it, perhaps even fight his way out. Guards in this
building were not issued firearms but the other guy had seemed
pretty fit and Svoljsak cursed himself for leaving his flashlight
at the door.
The door that wasn’t opening.
The vent above it rattled again as more
turbulence moved through the ducts. Svoljsak lowered his head,
exhaled slowly, then straightened up and willed himself to finish
the job.
Original to the building, the large
wood-framed windows had three sections of which the tops and
bottoms cranked open. On the outer side, bars and mesh had been
added at some point in time to keep out undesirables which, at this
height, consisted mostly of pigeons.
From his breast pocket he extracted a small
square of cardboard around which was spooled a long length of nylon
fishing
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