meet you. I’m Nat.” I suddenly realized I was alone with a beautiful woman, and both of us were in our underwear. My face grew hot. I quickly focused on picking the door’s lock.
A broken bobby pin worked great on normal handcuffs, but made for an awkward pick on a normal lock, even after grinding it down on the concrete floor. After about fifteen minutes, I was getting close to opening the storage room door. Then I heard Jorge’s voice in the hallway. He paused, then spoke again, like he was talking to someone on a cell phone.
“Quick,” I said, handing Yelena the bobby-pin lockpicks. “Kneel here and pretend you were trying to pick the lock.” I stood and pressed my back against the wall next to the door, with my handcuffed arm stretched awkwardly across my stomach.
She knelt, but said, “They expect we try to escape.”
I chuckled. “They expect you. Not me.”
Frowning, she glanced up at me. Then, with a jingle of keys, the door unlocked and swung outward.
“Move back,” Jorge said. I still couldn’t see him because he was standing outside the room.
Yelena scooted backward on her knees, holding her hands up so her right wrist wouldn’t pull my left hand into Jorge’s view.
“How did you undo the handcuffs?” Jorge asked, probably remembering having cuffed her hands together or to something in the room. And he moved forward enough that I could see his gun.
The situation was not ideal. Jorge was holding the gun in his right hand, with his finger on the trigger. I was to his left, which meant that in order to twist the gun out of his hand, I would have to turn the barrel toward me. From what Lydia had taught me, I knew I wasn’t supposed to do that—especially not while wearing only my underwear.
So I varied the technique as I grabbed the top of his gun, pointing the barrel upward as I twisted the gun in his hand. I must have surprised him enough that he didn’t think to pull the trigger, and I managed to wrench the gun from him.
Jorge didn’t stay surprised for long. Holding the top of the gun, not its grip, meant there was no way I could fire it. He lunged toward me, reaching for the gun with both hands.
Chapter Six
I knew he could take the gun from me, so rather than try to keep it, I tossed it behind me as far as I could, then turned and pretended like I wanted to run toward it but that my handcuff link to Yelena was holding me up.
With a grunt, Jorge pushed past me.
“Come on,” I said to Yelena, yanking her to her feet.
We ran through the open door, and I clanged it shut behind us. Yelena turned the key to lock it, then pulled the key out and kept the keychain. Jorge pounded on the door behind us as we rushed down the corridor.
“Is the handcuff key on there?” I asked.
She looked at the keys as we ran. “No.”
Of course not—that would have been too easy.
“Elevator’s this way,” I said, pointing to the right as we approached an intersection.
“They trap us in elevator,” she said, pulling on the handcuffs toward the left.
Yelena was right—the guards might forget about me, but they wouldn’t forget about her. As long as I was attached to her, my usual methods of escaping wouldn’t work. I needed to get the handcuffs off.
And I still needed to go to the bathroom.
We headed down the hallway to the left. If I recalled the plans to the building correctly, a door near the end of the hall led to a stairwell. There would be an emergency exit on the ground floor, so we could bypass the lobby and escape.
Except I needed to find my clothes. Not because I minded fleeing into the dark in my underwear, although I did, but because the quantum key was in one of my pockets and the CIA wouldn’t be happy if I didn’t bring it back. The technogeek wouldn’t remember he’d given it to me, of course, but it would be listed in Edward’s notes.
We raced past a door with a sign that read Laboratorio de Entrelazar . I stopped running, forcing Yelena to stop as well. Did
A broken bobby pin worked great on normal handcuffs, but made for an awkward pick on a normal lock, even after grinding it down on the concrete floor. After about fifteen minutes, I was getting close to opening the storage room door. Then I heard Jorge’s voice in the hallway. He paused, then spoke again, like he was talking to someone on a cell phone.
“Quick,” I said, handing Yelena the bobby-pin lockpicks. “Kneel here and pretend you were trying to pick the lock.” I stood and pressed my back against the wall next to the door, with my handcuffed arm stretched awkwardly across my stomach.
She knelt, but said, “They expect we try to escape.”
I chuckled. “They expect you. Not me.”
Frowning, she glanced up at me. Then, with a jingle of keys, the door unlocked and swung outward.
“Move back,” Jorge said. I still couldn’t see him because he was standing outside the room.
Yelena scooted backward on her knees, holding her hands up so her right wrist wouldn’t pull my left hand into Jorge’s view.
“How did you undo the handcuffs?” Jorge asked, probably remembering having cuffed her hands together or to something in the room. And he moved forward enough that I could see his gun.
The situation was not ideal. Jorge was holding the gun in his right hand, with his finger on the trigger. I was to his left, which meant that in order to twist the gun out of his hand, I would have to turn the barrel toward me. From what Lydia had taught me, I knew I wasn’t supposed to do that—especially not while wearing only my underwear.
So I varied the technique as I grabbed the top of his gun, pointing the barrel upward as I twisted the gun in his hand. I must have surprised him enough that he didn’t think to pull the trigger, and I managed to wrench the gun from him.
Jorge didn’t stay surprised for long. Holding the top of the gun, not its grip, meant there was no way I could fire it. He lunged toward me, reaching for the gun with both hands.
Chapter Six
I knew he could take the gun from me, so rather than try to keep it, I tossed it behind me as far as I could, then turned and pretended like I wanted to run toward it but that my handcuff link to Yelena was holding me up.
With a grunt, Jorge pushed past me.
“Come on,” I said to Yelena, yanking her to her feet.
We ran through the open door, and I clanged it shut behind us. Yelena turned the key to lock it, then pulled the key out and kept the keychain. Jorge pounded on the door behind us as we rushed down the corridor.
“Is the handcuff key on there?” I asked.
She looked at the keys as we ran. “No.”
Of course not—that would have been too easy.
“Elevator’s this way,” I said, pointing to the right as we approached an intersection.
“They trap us in elevator,” she said, pulling on the handcuffs toward the left.
Yelena was right—the guards might forget about me, but they wouldn’t forget about her. As long as I was attached to her, my usual methods of escaping wouldn’t work. I needed to get the handcuffs off.
And I still needed to go to the bathroom.
We headed down the hallway to the left. If I recalled the plans to the building correctly, a door near the end of the hall led to a stairwell. There would be an emergency exit on the ground floor, so we could bypass the lobby and escape.
Except I needed to find my clothes. Not because I minded fleeing into the dark in my underwear, although I did, but because the quantum key was in one of my pockets and the CIA wouldn’t be happy if I didn’t bring it back. The technogeek wouldn’t remember he’d given it to me, of course, but it would be listed in Edward’s notes.
We raced past a door with a sign that read Laboratorio de Entrelazar . I stopped running, forcing Yelena to stop as well. Did
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