Previously on PHOENIX… “Before she could say anything else, there was the simultaneous click of several rifles, and one of the guards was shoved onto his knees, multiple barrels pointed straight at his head…”
Within seconds, all the officers had drawn their guns, but they were pointing at each other. One shot the security cameras, causing red lights to flash from the top of the walls, along with a blaring siren. The moment of calm was burst into full pandemonium, as the officers began to turn on each other.
This was an infiltration from the inside. Before Myra could try to decipher which officers were on the inside, Zahir grabbed her arm, forcing their way through the crowd of workers towards a hallway on the side of the building. They ran, finding it mercifully empty. All the officers were currently in the center of the building.
“Where are we going?” Myra called to Zahir, trying to keep her voice low.
He didn’t reply.
At the end of the hallway was a set of stairs that Zahir climbed without hesitation, Myra trying to match his stride.
“We’re almost there,” he called when he reached the top. She suppressed the urge to scream at him to stop and explain what was going on. They were so far into this mess, she needed to trust that he had some deeper plan, and that Ahmed wouldn’t risk his son on a mission that was bound to fail.
The top floor of the border crossing office was decidedly much nicer than the bottom, Myra noticed, despite the quick pace she maintained to keep up with Zahir. It looked like one of the business offices that she’d seen in pictures of the Settlement, except slightly cheaper-looking. It was still the Banks, after all.
Another long hallway awaited them, this time with several doors, each with a gold plaque.
Zahir stopped in front of one that read “Maxwell Beecher.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small metal cylinder with small spokes. He pressed it right underneath the name plate, away from the frame where a lock would be. The tool stuck to the door, and when he pressed one of its buttons, it began to whir and spin.
“What is that?” Myra asked.
“I don’t know. My father gave it to me. It’s supposed to open the door without breaking the look. That way, no one will know we came.”
“They will, once they find out we stole from them.”
“And hopefully that will take them a while.” Zahir put the tool back into his pocket as the door slid open, revealing a very lush office.
It was large, occupying a significant portion of the floor plan. A window took up the entirety of the outer wall, displaying a clear view of the Settlement. Zahir rushed over to the sprawling desk that curved unnaturally towards the ground; the items on top of it seemed to be balancing precariously. From Myra’s vantage point, it looked less luxurious and modern and more like a large blob of metal polished to perfection. On the side that faced the chair, there was a small indent in the desk, which Zahir pressed his fingers into. It buzzed, flashing red. A fingerprint sensor.
“Zahir,” Myra hissed, but it was too late. If they set off some sort of alarm, Zahir’s fingerprints would surely be recorded, and the officers could easily track him down. Visions of what would happen next came easily to Myra’s mind. She’d heard plenty about the horrors in the jail, too small for the number of people who were arrested. There were whispers that the building itself was just for show. What was really to be feared were the alleged hidden laboratories where the detainees were injected with special trials of new drugs.
Myra shook away the images of Zahir strapped down on a cot as officers held him down. This wasn’t the time for overthinking. They needed to get out of here as soon as possible.
“Don’t try that again,” Myra said, louder than she intended. Quieter, she continued, “You don’t want to set off an alarm.”
“Well, what else do you think I should do? I need what’s inside the desk.” Zahir replied, tracing the sides with his fingers, trying to find any other give in the material.
Myra held back a retort that she had no idea, and that this whole endeavor wasn’t her idea to begin with. But she considered that officers could enter the room at any moment, so she held back.
She tried to remember anything useful, but nothing was coming to mind. Electronics were never her strong suit. She could memorize many things and find her way around most subjects, but never around a circuit board. In school, when they’d had to build small circuits and test them, she’d accidentally spilled water on her circuit, making it patter-off and die before she’d even gotten her grade.
That was it! Myra scanned the room, finding a glass of water half full on the desk. Before Zahir could stop her, she flung its contents onto the groove in the desk.
“What did you do?” Zahir exclaimed, watching drops of water fall into a puddle on the stone floors.
“I really hope this works.” Myra pressed her fingers into the groove, and this time no lights flashed. Instead, it popped right open, revealing a small drawer. Inside was a tablet powered off with no discernible characteristics. It looked like any other one in the Banks. Zahir took it and zipped it into the pocket of his factory uniform.
As he did, Myra froze, hearing footsteps coming down the hallway. She grabbed Zahir, without thinking twice, closed the drawer and pulled them into the only door in the room, praying it led to a closet and not into the hallway filled with officers.
Luck was on her side because it was pitch black, with barely enough room for the two of them. She could just make out the whites of Zahir’s eyes in the dim light, looking just as frightened as she felt. This was the first time he’d looked her in the eye, and she couldn’t even be sure with the lack of light.
The footsteps drew closer, along with the gruff tone of an unknown man, conversing with a friend.
With the touch of a hand, the door to the office swung open as its owner walked in. This was very bad. Surely he would notice the water on the ground, or attempt to open his secret drawer and find his item missing, or open the closet and find them huddled like sardines.
Myra peeked through the narrow crack of the door, her breath uneven as she tried to make no noise at all. The man approached the table, taking a seat in the chair with a heavy thud. He had dark hair and a black suit, someone important for sure. He wasn’t dressed like any of the officers, but he looked like them, with a rugged face like he was used to treating people poorly.
His companion was almost entirely the opposite of him. Blond, thin, with a mousy face, he looked like he wasn’t sure whether or not to bow or stand and ended up in an awkward combination of the two.
“The officers are subduing the insurrection,” the blond man said, his voice trailing off as he found his companion not at all engrossed in his words, but instead staring straight out the window at the Settlement.
“They are doing well,” he continued, “but they might be in need…” he trailed off.
“In need of what?” snapped the man in the chair.
“In need of reinforcements, sir. They’re not eliminating the threat quite as easily as they thought.”
Zahir turned to Myra, his eyes lit up. Those fake officers they had seen before, those were surely the distraction he’d been speaking of. Most likely sent by his father. But why? Was the entire mission for Zahir and Myra to get the file? They were far and between, the least qualified of any of Ahmed’s allies.
The blond man cleared his throat, awaiting an answer from his superior.
After a prolonged silence, he tried to continue the conversation again. “Sir?” he said.
“That’s enough! They can make do with the officers they have. This new batch is so whiny, they need a good lesson.”
The blond man gave a shaky bow before closing the door behind him. With a sigh, the other spun around in his chair, his eyes looking straight at the door they were hiding behind.
She looked over at Zahir, trying to assess his state in the dark. He was fidgeting, restless, she could tell, from the way that he tapped his fingers again and again on his leg. Was this all part of the plan?
The man turned again in his chair, this time placing his foot right into the puddle that they had made. The glass lay just inches from his feet.
“Those stupid maids,” he grumbled, placing the glass on the table again.
Before he could sit down in his chair again, a loud siren began to echo throughout the whole building. The man turned to the door on the opposite wall from where they had come, opening up to a hidden staircase that they hadn’t found before. He slammed the door behind him, and Myra could hear his footsteps echoing quickly down the flights of stairs.
She turned to Zahir, gesturing at the door, but he shook his head. They needed to wait for the coast to be clearer. The wailing siren continued at an earsplitting volume. Had all the fake officers truly been taken care of? A second alarm surely didn’t indicate that.
Minutes passed, and Zahir and Myra remained in the closet. Her legs began to cramp from the tight position. Then there were footsteps again in the hallway, running closer, along with multiple doors opening and closing.
The voices grew louder as someone opened the door to the office they were in. With a flash of light, a woman and a man entered and pulled the closet door right open.
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