Mute (Muted Trilogy Book 1) (30 page)

“This won’t take me too long,” he sent, “and then we can go ahead and head to Subway. Are you hungry yet? We can kill two birds with one stone.”

“Getting there maybe. I know I should eat, but everything feels a little fake. I’m not really hungry, not any more than I would be in a dream. Unless I’m dreaming about being hungry, but that’s a bit different.”

Jack sent a wave of agreement. “It would be an easier puzzle to solve, for sure.”

He set down the hodgepodge of electronics and plugged a USB cable from that into his laptop, then opened a program. His connection dimmed slightly, as he fiddled a little more with the hardware and with his computer. Finally, he nodded and let a wave of satisfaction through.

“Okay. That should do it.” He looked over at Jemma. “Ready to go?”

“Let’s do this,” she answered, standing and waiting for him to finish packing up his laptop before they left.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:

Consequence

They sat at a table from which they’d be able to see the blood bank across the street. Jack set up his laptop, and Jemma unwrapped her sandwich, using the extra wrapper to obscure the device that would mess with the alarm.

“Subway is open until 11, so we’ve got a few hours before we need to set up somewhere else,” sent Jack. “Let’s see how many times we can set off this alarm in the meantime.” He looked at her over his laptop screen. “Ready?”

She nodded, and he pushed a few buttons. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a small, bright light flashing near the blood bank’s door.

“I’m watching one side of the parking lot and you’re watching the other, right?” she sent.

“Right,” he agreed.

Jemma took a bite of her sandwich, chewing slowly, not entirely sure she’d be able to swallow with the tension that coiled as she waited.

And waited.

She was eventually able to swallow the bite without any ill effects, and the light was still blinking, no sign of anybody in the parking lot or in the building.

“How long do you think it’ll be?” she asked.

Jack shrugged. “Depends. The police could be here any minute or in twenty minutes or not at all. If the building manager comes, it shouldn’t take too long, but obviously it depends on where they live.”

She sent a wave of acknowledgment and took another bite, setting her sandwich down while she chewed. The restaurant was uncrowded, with just one other table occupied and one person working his way through the line.

Even eating as slowly as she could, her sandwich was halfway gone before she finally saw movement, a bright red car entering the parking lot across the street.

“Jack,” she sent, glad for the private and immediate method of communication.

“I see it. Twenty-two minutes.”

Jemma kept her face pointed toward the table but her eyes fixed on the blood bank. A man in jeans and a t-shirt went inside and turned on a few lights. They could see him move through the building, checking everything, and then he went back to the door, got the alarm to stop blinking, and went back to his car.

“Do we set it back off immediately or give him a chance to get home first?” sent Jack.

“Let him get home first a time or two, then set it off before he can even leave, once he’s already annoyed,” sent Jemma, trying to decide how many times she might be willing to check on an empty building.

“Good plan.”

The car pulled back out of the lot and onto the main street, disappearing quickly.

“Anything constructive we can do while waiting?” sent Jemma.

“I’m monitoring the radio waves, making sure the alarm isn’t doing anything unusual. It looks like it’s got all the normal triggers, windows and doors opening or breaking. I don’t see any triggers that seem to come from inner rooms, so we should be okay once we get in.”

It was still seeming too simple, too easy. Not real. Breaking the law had to be more complicated than this. They were forgetting something, missing…

“Gloves,” sent Jemma, and Jack blinked, sending a wave of confusion. “We should go next door and get some gloves, just in case the police do end up investigating and we’re not already, you know, missing.”

“Smart. The convenience store should still be open when Subway closes, and we’ll head across the street after that. Maybe stay parked at the convenience store since that’s open and a car won’t stand out?”

Jemma nodded and continued working on her sandwich, finishing it just before it was time to trigger the alarm again. Jack was watching his screen intently and jumped slightly when she crumpled up her wrapper.

“Sorry,” she sent, smiling wryly when she realized they’d had this exchange, only reversed, earlier in the night.

“You’re fine.” Jack looked away from his computer long enough to wink at her, then shifted back to a serious look. “Ready to set it off again?”

“Ready when you are.”

Jack nodded and did something on his laptop, and the light started blinking again. Traffic had thinned some, and Jemma thought she might be able to hear the beep of the alarm, very faintly.

“So, what do you think, longer or shorter wait this time?” Jack arched an eyebrow at Jemma and grinned.

“Longer. He had probably already changed into whatever he sleeps in.” She studied Jack for a long moment until he sent a questioning wave. “You seem like you’re in a pretty good mood.”

“Well,” he sent, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ll admit that I like the strategy on some level, and I love that I threw some parts together and now have a nifty remote that I’ll never use again. Also, I figure being nervous and serious, which is my other option, that’s not really gonna help us. If that weren’t enough reasons”—his grin grew—“we probably look less conspicuous if we seem like we’re on a normal outing together, just eating and then relaxing at Subway, and why wouldn’t I be in a good mood when I’m out on a date with you?”

Jemma felt her cheeks flush slightly, and Jack’s smile softened before he looked away, though the smile lingered while he studied his computer screen. She turned to look out the window, watching the cars drive by as she kept the parking lot in her line of sight, as she worked to stop blushing from his mild flirting. As he’d said, it was a good cover. It didn’t mean that he meant it or that she had to reciprocate, and even if he did mean it, this wasn’t exactly the ideal time to start anything. She rested her chin on her hand, trying to avoid tapping the table with her free hand while the light continued to blink in her direction.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” sent Jack, his tone apologetic without directly sending any emotion. Jemma dropped her hand back to her lap and looked at Jack, whose face was neutral. “I mean, I was being honest and don’t take back what I said, but I’m sorry it made you uncomfortable.”

“It didn’t really,” sent Jemma. “I mean, sort of, but only because I hadn’t…” She rubbed her arm and looked back out the window. “You know I’m not really used to relationships of any kind. I’m even less used to flirtation than I am to friendship. It isn’t that I object.” She looked at Jack, who was watching her closely, then away again. “I just wasn’t sure how to respond.”

“Just be yourself,” he sent with a wave of affection. “We’re good around each other, right?”

Jemma nodded. “We are.”

“We don’t need to be anyone else, don’t need to respond in a way that isn’t us. When I’m with someone I like, I tend to flirt, the same as I tend to be a bit hands-on. The same as with that, though, if it makes you uncomfortable, I can rein it in."

"That doesn't sound like being yourself, though," sent Jemma.

"I'd be less myself if I knowingly hurt someone I care about.”

Jemma sent a wave of understanding and a silent request for a moment to process. After making the wordless request, she realized she had no doubts he would respect it. He never ignored her discomfort, never expected her to force her way through it as her family did, however well-intentioned they were. The flirtation really had surprised her more than made her uncomfortable, and she’d gotten used to his casual touches.

She turned to face him, reaching her hand across the table and loosely taking his, earning a hesitant smile and a return of the sparkling in his eyes. Before she could verbalize her thoughts, she caught a hint of movement in her peripheral vision and turned to see the red vehicle coming to a stop in front of the blood bank’s door rather than parking in an official parking space.

The man wore the same clothes as far as Jemma could see, but he moved more quickly, held himself more stiffly than before.

“He’s already pretty upset,” sent Jack. “How about we set it off again before he has a chance to get home?”

“Let’s do that,” she sent. They watched while the man went through the building again, less thoroughly this time, then left.

“Response time was 25 minutes,” sent Jack. “I’m feeling pretty good about our chances even if the false alarms don’t work.”

“We do seem to have a good bit of leeway.” Jemma looked at Jack, finally realizing she still held his hand.

Jack smiled, giving her a chance to pull away. After squeezing his hand once, she did.

Jemma wished for a moment that she could still audibly clear her throat. “I don’t want you to stop being yourself,” she sent, reinforcing it with a wave of certainty. “That doesn’t mean… I’m not…”

“Just tell me if it’s too much.”

“Everything
else
is too much,” sent Jemma. “Being watched, being different in a way that’s dangerous, everything changing with no explanation.” She took a breath. “You’re not too much.”

He sent a wave of appreciation and agreement. “I’m glad we had that talk.” He grinned. “Even if the timing was a bit odd. Speaking of…” He looked down at his computer’s clock. “It’s time to call back Mister Red Car.”

She nodded and took a sip of her drink while he was occupied, and they waited in comfortable silence for the man to return. When he did, he was visibly frustrated, barely flipping on the light before turning it off and leaving again. As soon as he got in his car, Jack triggered the alarm again, and the man stormed out, stopping just inside the door and leaving again without doing anything fully inside the building.

“Yes!” sent Jack, excited. “He disabled it entirely. It worked!”

“Excellent.” Jemma watched as the red car sped away. “Let’s head out.”

***

“We haven’t done enough planning. We haven’t thought this through.” Jemma closed her eyes as the dream she’d been working through finally gave way to reality. They were in the space behind the building, ready to break the window of the office as planned.

“It’s now or maybe never,” sent Jack, placing his hands on her shoulders. “The alarm is disabled. We’ve got our new gloves, the lug wrench to break the window. If there’s some backup silent alarm, we know we have at least twenty minutes before anyone gets here.”

“You’re right,” she said, opening her eyes. “We’ve made this choice already. It’s just finally… I feel like I might get sick.”

“Just focus on the goal,” he said calmly, without distancing himself in case her nausea won out. “We’re just going to go inside and sort through paperwork, and we’re going to find some of the information we’ve been looking for. That’s all.”

She nodded curtly, getting her emotions back in check. “When is it your turn to freak out?” she sent. “I’ve done it enough.”

“You haven’t really freaked out,” he sent, dropping one hand to his side and maintaining contact with the other. “You’ve had reasonable doubts and concerns. We’ve got a plan. Are you ready?”

She took another breath, expelling it forcefully. “Yes. Let’s do this.”

“I’ll get all the glass out of the way before we go in.” He let go of Jemma, looking at her one last time before smashing the window.

It was louder than Jemma had expected, and she looked around nervously, but the area, largely commercial, was deserted at this time of night. There was no flashing, no sound to indicate the alarm had been triggered. Jack turned sideways to fit safely through the tall, relatively-narrow window, and Jemma followed suit, pulling out her phone to use as a flashlight.

There were no papers strewn about as she’d worried briefly. Instead, there were just three filing cabinets. She went to the first and tried it.

Locked.

“Check the desk for a key,” she sent, feeling calm and focused now that the task was in front of her. “Too many employees come in here to not have a shared key.” Jack quickly responded with a wave of success and unlocked the filing cabinet for her before unlocking the next two and picking one to open. She saw files alphabetized by last name, not unexpected, and knelt to access the lower files where she should find Jack’s.

Relatively quickly, she sorted through the folders and found it, pulling the file labeled “Jack Himmel” out so she could read it. Nothing stood out at first; there was a log of relevant history, dates of donations. She turned the page again and found a bright green sheet.

Contact Brewer for special instructions regarding processing.

Jemma showed Jack, then confirmed nothing else was in the folder before putting it back in the cabinet. “There should be a master file,” she sent.