I spent most of the drive fantasizing ways to punish my wife. I decided it was best to leave her locked alone in a room for several weeks.
—The journal of Isaac Ryland
The car came to a stop at the gate of the Mission. Like Affinity had predicted it did not appear to be guarded well. There was a single guard blocking the iron gates that surrounded the building. He got up from his post and walked around toward Trent’s lowered window. Trent held his RAG badge out the window.
“Business here, sir?”
“I have some prisoners to escort,” Trent said.
The guard looked back at the three in the backseat. “This is not the jail,” he said.
“These are special cases,” Trent said. “Grant Marsden requested I bring them here.”
“I haven’t received any notice,” the guard said.
“Well, it is his wedding night,” Trent said. “Maybe he called it in late? I can help you check.”
“Stay in your vehicle,” the man said.
The first bump, Andrew thought. The guard started walking back toward the booth. Trent waited until he was in front of the car before opening his door.
“Sir, I instructed you to stay in your vehicle,” the guard said.
Trent met him at the front of the car.
“I really wanted to stretch my legs,” he said.
The guard reached for his gun. Trent held his hands in the air.
“I am a close personal friend of Grant Marsden’s and I know he would hate for this to get screwed up. I would really appreciate it if you let me take a look at your logs.”
Trent went toward the guard, his hands still in the air, and draped one around the man’s shoulders. Andrew couldn’t hear what they said but recognized the movement Trent was trying to hide from the security cameras. Trent held the man up but had already shot him with the silenced gun in his pocket. Trent walked the man’s body into the booth and set him down in the chair. Andrew hoped whoever was watching thought this looked like a friendly exchange. Trent hit the button and the gate rose. He turned around and waved at the dead body for good measure before climbing into the front seat.
“Piece of cake,” Trent said.
Trent drove the rest of the way up to the front. He left the car parked outside and stepped out. The two guards at the front door came down to meet him. It appeared they hadn’t drawn any unwanted attention yet. Trent opened the back door. He grabbed Carter and pulled him out.
“I’d appreciate your help with the other two,” Trent said.
A guard came over and pulled Andrew out of the car. The third came and grabbed Riley.
“This one is a woman,” the guard said.
“She’s an Irish spy,” Trent said. “I wouldn’t get too close to her. Now, Mr. Marsden instructed me to take these three to the most secure room here. He didn’t trust the jail, explained it to your man down there.”
“Normally Charlie calls us when a car is driving up,” a guard said.
“You do have special holding cells, right?” Trent asked.
“Of course,” the other guard said.
They led the three prisoners through the front door; the crimson and gold interior was more lavish than Andrew had expected. He waited for Riley to take her shot. As soon as Andrew heard the moan from the other guard he pushed away from his guard and pulled his gun, angling it up and firing twice. Riley took off running. She had to make it to the security room before any other people were notified of their presence.
Trent started dragging the guards’ bodies back to their posts. Andrew took off running, with Carter right behind him. Both men undid their cuffs as they ran. No alarm had sounded yet and Andrew took that as a good sign. He ran the memorized path and soon they were in the hall of paintings. Carter went flat against the wall. He had to keep watch and provide cover and nodded at Andrew to keep going.
Everything went according to plan. Andrew found the false panel and the door swung open. He ran down the steps toward the keypad. He typed in the memorized code Zack had given him. The door did not open. It blinked at him in error. Dread covered Andrew’s face. They had lost.