Encrypted (48 page)

Zach thought that pretty much settled things when Francois stepped off the curb and headed for the mansion.

* * *

Ronnie rushed along with the other
s
to corral Francois back to the car, but the Frenchman was on a mission. Actually
,
he seemed more like a moth to
a
flame. He had a singular purpose
,
and that was to get into Graceland.

“Yeah,” the pilot sighed as he stopped giving chase. “I’ll get the car.”

As Zach tried to wrangle Francois, Ronnie turned to Quirk. “I’ll take the property
,
you take the periphery.”

The younger man frowned
,
clearly wanting to be at “one” with Graceland, but even Quirk must have realized
that
now was not the time to argue. Her assistant brought up the energy grid that serviced the area with two swipes of his finger across his palmtop.

“Bring down a whole city block so they don’t zero in on Graceland as the target,” Ronnie added as she set off a perimeter breach at the back of the property. All thirteen point eight acres to the back of the property. With only two guards, one of them was going to have to hop in that golf cart and ride out to check on the alarm. That would leave only one guard at the gate. Which wouldn’t have been a problem
,
had Francois not decided to go on his walkabout.

The entire block plunged into darkness. Streetlights went out. The mansion’s façade darkened. Hopefully
,
security would chalk it all up to a power surge or downed power line.

Zach was clearly trying not to make a scene
.
H
owever
,
no amount of coaxing stopped the old man’s march to the gates of Graceland. Even now
,
the gate’s guard exited the little shack behind the fence and stood watching the very awkward group.

“Down all video feeds,” Ronnie whispered. Many of these buildings might have backup generators.

“Look,” Quirk retorted, “you worry about those gorgeous gates, hon
.
I’ve got the rest.”

They had to trot to keep up as Francois and Zach reached the wrought iron gates. Francois stopped, swaying from side to side, his eyes intent on the mansion behind them.

“I am really sorry,” Zach said to the uniformed guard. “We were just trying to show Grandpa Graceland
,
and he kind of…”

Zach indicated the clearly altered Francois.

“I understand,” the guard said
,
although he didn’t exactly look all that understanding. “But you are all going to have to back up. This is private property.”

“You heard the man, Francois,” Zach said
,
trying to urge the Frenchman back. “We’ve got to go.”

Francois refused to budge. Zach spoke to the old man as his eyes darted to Ronnie. “The nice guard can’t open the gates for us.”

Ronnie knew a cue when she heard one. Tapping into Graceland’s security matrix, she hit the controls for the gate. A loud
clunk
sounded and the metal lurched
;
however
,
the sides did not swing open.

“What the hell?” the guard drawled, backing up.

She hit the command again. Again
,
the gate clunked
,
but
did not open. Damn it
!
There must have been a physical lock that wasn’t controlled electronically. The guard went to pull his gun. Zach reached for his, but it was long gone back in El Paso
,
and since they didn’t have a safe house in Tennessee
…
I
magine that
—
he was unarmed.

Zach was FBI through
and
through. He charged the gate
,
hitting it square
ly
with his shoulder. The gate groaned but didn’t give way.

“Get back!” the guard yelled, pulling his weapon
out
with a shaky hand.

“The latch,” Ronnie urged.

Zach slipped his hand between the ironwork and popped the metal latch holding the gate shut. Freed of its restraint, the gate swung open as the guard stumbled. His hand flew to the radio on his shoulder.

“We’ve got intruders!”

But Zach was there, knocking the radio from his hand, getting the guard in a chokehold before the man could even raise a finger. “Just relax,” Zach said
,
closing off the man’s windpipe. “I swear
—
it’s just like taking a nap.”

The guard did anything but relax, flailing
and
clutching at Zach’s hands,
and
then he slowed, closing his eyes. Zach let up as the guard
went
slack. He bent down to check the guy’s pulse, however. Francois didn’t miss a beat as he headed straight toward the mansion’s front door. Ronnie checked the security feed. The offsite monitors were only getting static. Unfortunately
,
the damned the golf cart was making a quick U
-
turn, making a beeline for the mansion. The other guard must have heard at least some of the guard’s transmission.

“Damn it, Quirk,” she hissed. “You’ve got to throw up enough interference to block communications.”

“Um, I’m doing my part,” he replied. “Yell at Mr. Hellfire in a Hurry up there.”

As Zach dragged the unconscious guard to the small shack, Ronnie hurried after Francois. Her assistant didn’t keep
up the
pace. “Quirk!”

“What?”
h
e protested. “I can’t hack and run at the same time.”

Ronnie had perhaps never felt so vindicated. “Which is why I insist on training under
all
conditions.”

“Oh, forgive me
.
I’m not all Lara Croft.”

She ignored his barb, which really wasn’t that much of a barb
,
all things considered. Instead
,
she concentrated on getting that front door unlocked. Zach caught up with them just as they passed the large stone lions that stood sentry at the entrance to the mansion.

“Are we good to go?” Zach asked on the run.

Ahead of them
,
Francois climbed the four steps up to the front door and opened it.

Since no blaring alarm went off to wake the neighbors
,
Ronnie answered, “Guess so.”

With the sound of the golf cart’s whine coming around the corner, they rushed into the mansion.

* * *

The door nearly hit Q
uirk
as Zach slammed it shut, but still Quirk did not move an inch. Why would he? Here he stood in Elvis Presley’s mansion. White, pure white
,
washed over him
—
only punctuated by bright blues and reds. Graceland’s classic revival style was everything Quirk could have ever imagined
,
and more.

Sure
,
it was small by today’s standards of
McMansions
, but Quirk could imagine how Elvis must have felt when he first walked into the house. Coming from such humble roots
,
this two-story mansion must have seemed like a palace. And the fact that the King decorated Graceland like a palace? Ah, that just captured Quirk’s affection all the more.

As an orphan bounced from foster home to foster home, Quirk had clung to an old cassette
that
some random social worker had given to him.
Elvis: 50 Greatest Hits
. She’d said
that
if Presley could rise from nothing to be the King of Rock n’ Roll, Quirk could do anything he set his mind to do.

And being the single greatest hacker was what he set his mind upon. Ronnie didn’t count
,
of course. She was some kind of OCD
-
fueled cyborg who had code running through her veins.

No, Quirk had risen to his position on some good
ol
’
hard work and lots of panache. And here he stood in the King’s presence. Straight ahead the tiled foyer opened into an elegant hallway. A marble staircase, roped off
to
visitors, led to the second floor
—t
he floor with Elvis’ bedroom
,
and even the bathroom
…
where he finally succumbed. Quirk might have raced up those stairs
,
except his feet were rooted in place. He couldn’t move an inch until he soaked up every last glorious moment of what lay before him.

Even the emergency lighting did nothing but enhance the magical surroundings.

To his left was the dining room. How many legends sat at that table and broke bread with Elvis? To the right lay the living room, where the rest of the team was gathered. They were all obsessed with the painting and hadn’t stopped to appreciate the low
,
white couch or the mirror-topped fireplace. And the peacock stained glass windows that separated the living room from the music room?

Beyond the doorway
sat
a grand piano. How often had Elvis tickled those ivories? A chill started at the base of Quirk’s skull and ran straight down his spine
.
Quirk was all shook up.

“Quirk,” Ronnie whispered, but he ignored her until she grabbed his wrist and jerked him down.

F
lashlight
b
eams cut through the windows
,
sending streaks of light across the room. Light bounced off the mirrors above the fireplace
,
illuminating the room to nearly daylight.

That was when he saw the painting in question. It was of Elvis. Not the young
,
brash Elvis or the older jumpsuit Elvis, but the Elvis who had just realized exactly how heavy the burden of fame could become. It was eloquent
,
yet haunting.

And they were going to burn it.

* * *

Ronnie kept Quirk down
,
and
Zach did the same with Francois. Each seemed in a trance of
his
own.

Footsteps rang out on the stone steps outside. The guard was coming to check on the front door.

“It’s locked, right?” Zach whispered.

Oh. Crap. She’d been a little preoccupied.

As the doorknob turned, Ronnie pulled out her palmtop and keyed in the codes. The knob made it around three quarters of the way
,
then caught. The guard jiggled it again, but it held.

Rapid footsteps announced the guard leaving. Luckily
,
the
Presleys
didn’t trust their security staff all that much
,
and didn’t give them keys to the mansion. They would probably have another good ten minutes before someone higher up the food chain came to check the house.

“We need to get moving.”

Zach helped Francois to his feet. “I’ll grab the painting.”

“No!” Quirk announced
—
far too loud
ly,
given the situation. In a manner far
quieter
than his “oh
,
snap” persona, Quirk continued, “No, I’ve got it.”

Her normally exercise-averse assistant reverently lifted the Elvis painting from the wall and hugged it to his body. “This way.”

Quirk headed down the hallway, away from the front door. Zach raised an eyebrow
.
T
his wasn’t the plan
.
H
owever
,
Quirk was right. They couldn’t go out the front
.
T
hey were going to have to make for the back of the property and meet up with the SUV on the other side of
the
fence.

They followed Quirk down the hallway
and
past the stairs where he dodged to the left
,
opening a door as if he had lived here his whole life. They passed through a small hallway
and
then headed left.

Where they all stumbled to a stop.

“Quirk…” Ronnie threatened.

Thick
,
green shag carpet stretched out before them, ending at the edge of a pool fed by a waterfall cascading down a faux stone
wall. Ferns hung from the rafters
,
and even the ceiling was lined in green shag.