part0107

"Well, after you spilled your purse for Jessica's benefit, I guessed that you needed a way out, so... I suppose that depends on your definition of a good idea," Anja replied.

He leaned back in his seat and stared through the windshield of his car. "Well, while I appreciate you getting me out of that conversation without me having to get more involved with my feelings and spilling them, I'd still like to think that I'm not heading into a trap."

"I know I like to rib you about it and we all have fun with it," she said, her voice a little softer than usual. "But do you really think that getting in touch with how you feel about shit is that terrible?"

"If I wanted to be psychoanalyzed, I'd find a professional who would hopefully be able to point me on a decent course," he said. "Getting it out there is beneficial, I suppose, but I'm not here to impress people with my emotional depth. I'm here because we need to retrieve shit that was stolen from Pegasus."

"Right. Well, all the emotional discussion aside, I still think it's a very good plan. Jessica did a ton of research into the facility, but since you'll be the one who heads into the damn place, it's probably a good idea for you to get a feel for it yourself before you do so."

"And how is it going on that front?" he asked.

"I'm still working on it," she answered quickly. "But get ready, would you?"

He sighed and donned the pair of non-prescription glasses he'd purchased from the dollar store. For this visit, he was dressed in a cheap suit, the kind people wore for work when their job wasn't managing a multi-billion dollar company—the kind that lasted for a long time and could be quickly and cheaply replaced. His hair matched the suit—split down the middle and swished back the way someone would if they were in a hurry to leave the house.

After yet another hasty look in the mirror, he scowled. He looked like the kind of guy who had a nine-to-five job he hated to support a wife he'd never intended to marry, except that they'd been teenagers and not informed on proper sex ed. She'd gotten pregnant, and they were both incredibly bitter about being forced together.

"I don't like this guy," Savage said and stared at his reflection. Getting into character would certainly be interesting.

"Me," Savage replied. "It turns out I'm a bitter nine-to-fiver who hates his life. I’m seriously not sure what he does to cope. Either he drinks or has a mistress his wife knows about but pretends not to. What do you think?"

"I think you're taking this a little too seriously," Anja said, her tone tinged with humor.

"When creating a legend, the small details are important," he explained as he stepped out of the car and adjusted his tie. "Getting into character requires you to adjust to being the person you look at in the mirror."

"Hey, you don't need to convince me. I'm not the one walking up to the guards at the end of the workday," she reminded him. "I merely wonder why you need to think about what your character's vices are."

"Again, the small things," he said. "I think about what kinds of questions I might be asked in there, consider them, and build back from there. These guys might ask me about a wife and kids. I say yes and roll my eyes and let my shoulders sag wearily and I'll bet you a solid seventy-five percent of those guys will be able to relate on at least some level. And believe me, they'll be able to tell when someone's faking it."

"Huh." She grunted. "I hadn't thought of that."

Savage shrugged and adjusted the glasses again. "It's only something to think about when you're out here, talking to the people. You can see it when they don't fully buy what you're selling, and you learn to change your pitch."

He cleared his throat, brought his voice up an octave, and let a nasal quality slip in. As he approached the booth where a couple of security men waited for him, he tapped his ear lightly.

"No... What's wrong with the wallpaper we have in there now?" he said and sounded like he was about to lose it. "Yes, I did like the damn coloring, I simply don't understand why... Look, can we talk about this when I get home? I need to get to work... No, don't tell the contractor anything until I get there."

He tapped the earpiece he wore again lightly to end the “call” before he turned his attention to the men who watched him closely.

"Hey," he said and withdrew the badge Anja had delivered to him not twenty minutes before. "Chris Podolski, Health and Safety. I'm here to have a chat with your boss—a Dr. Gains?" He paused before he said the name to check a notebook like he’d added a list of names he needed to check off his list for the day. The tired, bored tone of voice completed the sense of an onerous workload.

"I'll check with him. Wait a moment," one of the guards said, took the badge, and headed to a nearby phone, likely to call and see why a Health and Safety inspector tried to gain entry.

The other, presumably rather bored, rolled his chair to the window of the booth.

"Is there a problem at home?" the man asked.

"You don't know the half of it," he replied and shook his head. "I've got to finish with this interview here and head home to have my ear yelled off because my wife doesn't like the wallpaper in the study. My study."

The guard laughed. "It sounds like you have a firecracker on your hands."

"I used to," he said with a sigh. "But I don't want to bother you guys while you're on the job, especially not with my family problems."

"Hey, man, don't worry about it," he said cheerfully. "I've been divorced for three years now, and I can tell you that I've never been happier. Seriously. Having someone tell you constantly how to live your life is a quick way to serious problems with the bottle if you know what I'm saying."

"I hear you. I don't know what to do. It's not like we were ever 'in love'"—he added the air quotes for effect—“but there was a time when she let me do my thing and I let her do hers. Long, long ago."

"Here's my advice," the guard said as his comrade hung up. "Get out of it as quickly as you can. The longer you stick around, the more likely it'll be that she finds someone and walks away with all your money. If you move first, she'll be surprised and less able to find a good lawyer to fuck you over."

Savage nodded. "I guess that makes sense. I don't think we're quite there yet, though."

"Believe me, you'll get there soon," he said as his partner returned.

"I'm sorry, but it looks like Dr. Gains is gone for the day," the other guard said. "You can always schedule an appointment with his secretary, though."

"I've tried for the past three weeks with no luck," Savage replied and shook his head regretfully. "I honestly hoped to catch him here since I think he's avoiding me. You know the deal—everyone thinks the government's out to get them, and they start playing hard to get. In reality, there are only a couple of forms I need his signature on, and all the troubles that have circled this facility can finally go the way of the dodo bird. My boss has been riding my ass to get this case closed so everyone can go home."

"I bet that's all the riding you'll get, though, so maybe you should stop complaining," the first guard said and laughed. "Hey, Jeff, are you married?"

The second guard looked up from where he flipped through some paperwork. "Nah, I’m not married yet. I have a girlfriend, though, who I love very much, so watch what you have to say, Harry."

Jeff and Harry. Savage made a note to remember their names and faces.

"Well, I didn’t plan to say anything bad about the love of your life, Jeff." Harry chuckled and rolled his chair to see what his friend was looking at. Savage took the moment where he was unattended to scan the booth they were in. It contained two desks and was fairly small and cramped, definitely on a budget. Most of their cameras were on what looked like a closed-circuit network and fed into the two screens on the desk closest to him.

The two turned back to face him and he settled into his previous position.

"Look, I'm sorry we can't help you, man." Jeff handed his badge back. "The people who run this place aren't exactly open about their schedules with the security staff, so we either know they're here, or we don't. If you like, I can keep your name and number and when the good doctor decides to come to do his job, we'll let you know."

"Are you sure you can do that?" he asked. "I don't want to get you guys in trouble. And again, this really isn't that important. It’s only some paperwork for him to sign, is all."

"Hey, man, we're all doing our jobs here," Harry said with a chuckle. "It's not like you're any kind of a security threat, so if there's anything we can do to make sure our little lab here keeps running, I don't see why not. He'll probably be in tomorrow."

"I'll have to work a couple of other cases tomorrow," he said thoughtfully so they wouldn’t think him too eager to jump at their offer. "I don't know… I can leave you my name and number and you can pass it along to his secretary. Maybe then he'll understand that there's nothing to be worried about from us."

"That sounds good to me," Jeff agreed. "I'll do that."

"Thanks for your time, gentlemen," Savage said with the tip of an imaginary cap. "You wouldn't believe how many people in your position would make my life difficult simply because they can. I really appreciate it."

"Hey, us guys have to stick together, am I right?" Harry said and turned to look at his comrade for support.

Jeff nodded but only offered a noncommittal grunt.

Savage laughed and patted the man's shoulder through the window of the booth. "Don't worry, kid. You'll know what I'm talking about before too long."

"What we're talking about," Harry added and patted his comrade on the other shoulder. "Sticking it out against the crazy bitches is what we do around here."

"If you say so," Jeff said. He clearly didn’t want to be involved in the conversation but didn’t want to be ostracized from it either.

"Anyway, I'll leave you guys to finish your shift." He looked from one man to the other before he raised his hand in farewell and walked casually back to where he’d parked his car.

"How the fuck did you do that?" Anja asked when he stepped into the vehicle. "I don't think I could even get those guys to talk about their sports teams, much less get them to talk about their personal lives."

"I don't know," he said as he closed the door and assumed his natural voice tone. "You could probably distract enough to get the job done if you were willing to dress the part. I'm not saying that you need to dress like a hooker, mind, but even having something a little too low on the neckline would be enough for them to want to keep talking to you. It’s not great on dignity, I know."

"Well, I don't think I have the body to pull that off anyway," she grumbled.

"In this case, it was mostly to keep them talking," he explained. "I saw a little interest from one of the guards, if not the other, and I pushed myself into that little crack. They're friends—or are at least on good terms with each other—so they drag each other into the conversation and I have an opening with both of them."

"You didn't do much with that opening though," she commented as he started the car and pulled away.

"I did enough," he countered. "First of all, I couldn't press them for more information or they would sour on me. They knew what I was there for and they tried to help because they felt generous. It turned into a conversation, which gave me time to look at their security system. They have a small example of it in the booth to keep the team outside updated in case they need to lock the building down."

"So, what do you think about these guys?" she asked.

"The security guards themselves? They aren’t exactly the best that money can buy. Professionalism is down the toilet since they did actually try to talk to me instead of keeping a reserved silence. I’d say rent-a-cops who aren't being rented for much."

"Do you think they'll recognize you when you show up later?" Anja wondered.

"It’s unlikely," Savage said. "Guys in their position tend to remember distinctions rather than facial features. They'll remember the cheap suit, the glasses, the hair, and the high voice. When someone shows up with none of the above, they will think it's a completely different person."

"You say that with the kind of confidence I don't think you should have."

"Okay, yes, there is a possibility that they might be able to recognize me," he conceded. "But it's not like we have any other options here. We go in tonight, which means I need to play this as safe as I can but still accomplish it in under twenty-four hours."

"Fair enough," Anja said as he pulled the car into a garage nearby.

He paid the hourly rate, found a space near the back, and took a moment once he was parked to remove the glasses and ruffle his hair to its natural state before he removed the suit.

In minutes, most of what anyone would recognize him by had been shoved in a black garbage bag which he carried away from the stolen car he'd used. Following the hacker’s instructions, he went down the steps that weren't covered by cameras into a back exit, where Jessica waited for him.

The car was already reported as stolen, probably, and garages like these tended to give the records on their cars to the cops when asked. It wouldn’t be long until they found the vehicle again, with nothing much changed in the car itself other than a full tank of gas.

"What about the rest of their security?" Anja asked as he stepped into the other car.

"There are improvements," he said. "But from the cameras, I can tell they're still working on it. I noticed a fair number of blind spots and overlaps here and there. More importantly, I couldn't see any coverage on the big boss man's office. I'd say that's where we'll be able to get the data we need without being seen."