Italian Deception. Michelle Reid
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van carrying the rest of the team cruised several car lengths behind her. It reassured her, but it didn’t stop the adrenaline strumming her veins.
She neared the target, Plus Suisse Worldwide Depository, a monolith of steel and glass that shadowed half a block.
She approached the cement-lined ramp to the underground parking deck and slowed. “Okay, going in,” she spoke into the bone mic.
“Passing you,” Tommy said as the van eased past her.
“Turning.”
Cao, Betsy and Tommy all wished her luck, and she heard the worry in their voices. Tommy pulled the van into an alley across the street, next to a sleek modern law office. Cao slid a tiny portable dish onto the roof.
She paused before the electronic podium and gate. An LCD screen spewed out directions in Afrikaans, French, Dutch, German, English, Xhosa, Zulu, Sesotho, Setswana, Muslim, Hindu…and the languages kept rolling.
She spoke more than ten languages, a necessity from having lived in many impoverished Asian and African provinces with her mother, so she had already pulled out the mini modem.
“Okay, in we go.” She slid it in. It fit perfectly. No alarm went off. Always good.
Would it work? Her faith in Cao had never wavered until this moment. She counted the seconds by the steady pulse in her temple.
Waited. Held her breath.
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