London, England
The hundreds of thousands of twinkling lights of the city stretched far into the distance, morphing into an indistinct orange glow at the horizon. James Ryker sucked in cool, cold air as he took in the cityscape. With no clouds in the sky, the temperature had dropped close to zero since nightfall. He exhaled and watched his breath swirl into the darkness above him.
Then he grasped the railing and jumped over it to perch on the very edge of the balcony.
Teetering, fourteen stories up, the world down below looked dizzyingly distant. He turned to face the building and shuffled along, only the tips of his toes touching the concrete, his gloved hands on the metal railing stopping him from toppling. The balcony of the neighboring apartment sat five feet away, a sheer drop in between. He moved as far over as he could, the toes of his left foot still touching down, his left hand grasping the railing, but his body suspended over nothing. He reached out with his right hand, his fingers several inches from touching anything but air. He reached out with his right foot. Still not close enough.
So he pulled his body back to the left, bent down a little then sprang up and across. Mid-air for a couple of beats, gravity yet to fully take over before his right foot hit something solid. But the ice-cold concrete was slippery and his foot slid from the surface and Ryker grabbed at the railing but for a moment, with his body falling, he doubted he’d be able to hold on to that either. Until he whipped his left hand over, just in time. His feet scrambled beneath him. He won the battle and soon had two feet touching down. Two hands holding him in place.
Ryker took a couple of deep breaths, steadying himself, allowing the surge of adrenaline to pass and his heart rate to climb down. He stared at the windows of the apartment beyond the balcony railing. The curtains were closed but the lights were on. He could tell from the flicker that whoever was home beyond was watching TV. He didn’t think he’d made too much noise in the jump but he stayed in position a few moments longer, waiting to see if there’d be any response.
No. Nothing.
He looked to his right again. One jump made, but he wasn’t where he needed to be yet. His destination was another apartment to the right. One floor up. A small part of him regretted the conclusion that this was the best means of access, but the simple fact was that it’d be easier to break through the balcony door than the front door of his target’s home. The apartment he’d started at was the closest unoccupied lot. He’d viewed it earlier in the day with the agent selling the property. Then ‘acquired’ the code for the key lockbox attached to the front door. So yeah, he’d broken in, but he hadn’t actually had to break anything to do so.
Now he was hanging on to the edge of a balcony fourteen stories up on a cold midwinter’s night.
Time to get moving. He shuffled to the right, same as before. Made the jump more easily this time. This apartment sat in darkness. He crept to the window and put his ear close to the glass. No sounds beyond. He pulled the balcony’s small round bistro table right up against the railing. He climbed onto the table and crouched down, before he slowly straightened up and moved to the edge – one foot still on the table for better, full-contact traction, one foot straddling the metal railing.
Ryker looked up. The concrete platform above was too far out of reach and he wasn’t stupid enough to simply jump up and try to grab it. He took the rope from his backpack and tossed the end upward and the attached carabiner clanked on the metal railing. A little louder than he’d hoped but the throw was good and the carabiner landed on the other side of the railing, and with a bit of teasing, he managed to slip it off the balcony and eased it back down toward him. He attached the rope to his belt then, ignoring any remaining doubts, he pushed off and was left swinging.
He grasped the rope above him and strained as he reached higher, higher, one hand at a time, hauling himself up. He took hold of the concrete edge and pulled himself up, and with one final burst of effort, he vaulted the railing and found himself crouched on the balcony.
He unclasped the rope and put it back into his backpack. Stayed low. No lights on. No one was home. The man of the house was working late at a function. His wife was working abroad. Their young daughter was staying with family.
At least, he hoped he was right about all that.
Ryker moved to the balcony doors. He tried the handle. Worth a shot, but no luck. It didn’t matter. This building was two years old and as high-end as the apartments up at this level were, every single balcony door was the same, all with the same standard locks. Ryker had already paid great attention to such things on his thorough look around the apartment on the floor below.
There was no keyhole on the outside, just a panel beneath the handle to hide the back of the inside lock. The door had a multi-point locking system – supposedly highly secure – but that system was connected to the handle. If he dealt with the main lock, which kept the handle in position, he’d be in.
Ryker took out his flathead screwdriver and a small hammer. He pushed the tip of the screwdriver up under the edge of the panel then smacked the end of the screwdriver’s handle with the hammer. Not a hard shot to start with but enough to wedge the screwdriver’s tip under the panel casing. He hit the handle again, harder this time, then a third time and the screwdriver dug deep, and Ryker heard and felt the crack as the backside of the lock snapped. The panel dropped away. Ryker took the screwdriver and jabbed the end into the hole and the remainder of the lock dropped free on the other side and clanked to the floor.
He pushed down on the handle.
Bingo.
He took out his radio jammer. A little bit of phishing online had confirmed that the occupants had a subscription to a well-known wireless alarm company. Like most wireless alarms, the system utilized good old radio signals to allow the components to talk to one another. If a magnetic contact on the door was broken it’d send a signal to the base unit which would in turn trigger the alarm. Block that signal, no alarm.
Ryker took a couple of minutes to set the frequency then pushed the door open. He waited a moment, making sure.
Success.
He carried on inside into a large open-plan, modern space. He’d seen the layout for the apartment in blueprints. Together with the large living area, the apartment had four bedrooms. No sign of a desk or computer in here so Ryker quickly made his way to the main internal corridor, off which sat each of the bedrooms. With only one child that meant at least one spare bedroom, possibly an office.
Yes. An office. Not particularly well decked out. The occupants hadn’t been here long. The room had only a simple, functional desk, a filing cabinet, a single swivel chair. Ryker headed over to the snazzy-looking iMac on the desktop and took out his thumb drive and plugged it into the Thunderbolt port at the back of the large screen to begin the process of copying the hard drive contents. No login needed for this. His software would take a direct copy of every bit of data from the hard drive. He’d later be able to break through any passwords or encryption as needed.
Half an hour later he was done.
With the data-packed thumb drive tucked away, he moved back out to the open-plan living area. He looked over to the balcony door. Nothing he could do about the obliterated lock. The owners would know their home had been broken into. Would probably figure, given the lack of missing items, what had been targeted. Ryker didn’t care so much about that. He could trash the place, take some of the expensive jewelry he’d noticed in the walk-in closet of the main bedroom to try and suggest a simple burglary. But what would be the point in trying to hide the real motive for the break-in? Actually, he wanted them to know why they’d been hit tonight. Let them sweat about which of their secrets could now be exposed.
Ryker walked toward the front door – no need for him to take the hard route out. He paused a moment as he looked through the peephole. No one out there.
He opened the door, looking left and right. The corridor was empty. The door closed softly behind him. He turned off the jammer. Still no alarm, with the magnetic contacts on the front and back doors both in place.
Ryker strode along the corridor toward the bank of three elevators. He heard the ting as one of them arrived. He didn’t let up as a man emerged. Long overcoat. Shiny, polished black shoes. Neatly slicked-back hair. Designer glasses over his nose. Despite his high-end, well-groomed look, he moved unsteadily, his eyes a little glazed. Too much of the free champagne.
Ryker hadn’t expected to run into the guy. The function officially went on until eleven and it was only nine thirty.
He’d had only seconds to spare inside the apartment.
Not to worry. Ryker had made it in and out in time nonetheless.
The man locked eyes with Ryker as he approached. He had no clue. Ryker knew so much about him and his wife, but this guy had never seen or probably even heard of Ryker.
‘Good evening,’ Ryker said with a nod and a smile.
The guy slurred in response. He looked a little surprised at Ryker’s cheery greeting but carried on toward his apartment regardless.
Ryker pressed the button for the elevator. It hadn’t yet moved and the doors opened straight away and he stepped inside, taking one last glance at the drunk and entirely oblivious man before he stepped inside.
In his state, maybe he wouldn’t even notice the broken lock on the balcony door until the morning. Most likely within a few minutes, he’d be snoring like thunder.
Ryker, on the other hand, had a long night ahead of him, searching for the evidence of the dirty secrets he hoped now lay within his reach.