that mean laboratory of something-lasers?
“There might be lasers in that lab,” I said, “or something else we can use to get these handcuffs off.”
“Get out of building first,” she said. “Guard call someone.”
I had forgotten about Jorge’s conversation as he approached the storage room.
“I need to get…something in my pants before leaving. But it’s too hard with these,” I said, raising our handcuffed wrists.
After a moment, she nodded.
The lab door was locked, but one of the keys on Jorge’s keychain was a master key. We slipped quickly through the door and shut it behind us.
The room’s lights were off, but a half-dozen flat-panel monitors displayed scrolling lines of data. Violet light radiated from a long apparatus of glass and metal that dominated the center of the room. At the far end, a pencil-thick shaft of bright violet hit a prism and split into two weaker beams that extended into holes in the wall.
“That must be the entrelazar ,” I said.
“What?”
“Never mind,” I said. “Let’s see if it’s powerful enough to cut the chain on these handcuffs.”
We raised our handcuffed arms over the laser apparatus, one of us on each side, and walked to the far end of the room. We stopped just before reaching the prism.
A nod from Yelena signaled she was ready, and we lowered our wrists slowly. I held my breath as the handcuff chain entered the violet beam.
The reflection off the metal dazzled my eyes, and I blinked back tears. But I held my arm steady, and so did Yelena. But the laser seemed to have no effect.
“It was worth a try,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Wait,” she said. She walked to one of the workbenches along the side of the room, forcing me to lean over the laser with my arm stretched out, and she rummaged in some of the drawers.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
“Mirror.”
“Why?”
“I help you get pants,” she said. “Ah.” She held up a flat mirror about one foot square.
“How will that help?”
She walked to the prism and deftly leaned the mirror against it at a forty-five-degree angle. The violet beam reflected up into a ceiling tile, which burst into yellow flame.
“Fire,” she said. “We go now.”
I stared at the flames in horror. Without any time to prepare myself, I found myself flashing back to the fire when I was thirteen.
“Nat!” Yelena’s insistent voice wrenched my eyes away from the flames. We exited into the hallway and raced for the stairwell. A fire alarm blared from a loudspeaker on the wall, and strobe lights flashed.
“Security office on second floor,” she said, her mouth close to my ear so I could hear her over the alarm. “Handcuff key probably there.”
“Why did you start a fire?” I asked.
“Force evacuation, including security office.”
It had been a smart decision on her part, I conceded. She didn’t know my personal feelings about fire—and my feelings didn’t really matter. All that mattered was salvaging what I could of this mission.
Water sprayed from sprinklers in the stairwell as we ran up three flights to the ground floor. I expected her to try to take the exit, but she didn’t.
“Why are you helping me get my pants?” I said, squinting back at her through the strobe-lit spray of water.
“I need clothes, too.”
I couldn’t argue with that. A beautiful woman wandering around in the middle of the night, sopping wet, dressed only in her bra and panties, would attract attention.
On the second floor, I opened the door an inch and peeked out. A security guard I didn’t recognize was barreling down the hall toward us.
“Up,” I said.
We ran halfway up to the third floor and waited until the guard I’d seen was safely on his way down.
On entering the security office, I spotted a pile of black clothes on a table—and, just lying there for anybody to take, the prototype.
Yelena and I both lunged for it, but I had entered the office first and had longer arms,
“There might be lasers in that lab,” I said, “or something else we can use to get these handcuffs off.”
“Get out of building first,” she said. “Guard call someone.”
I had forgotten about Jorge’s conversation as he approached the storage room.
“I need to get…something in my pants before leaving. But it’s too hard with these,” I said, raising our handcuffed wrists.
After a moment, she nodded.
The lab door was locked, but one of the keys on Jorge’s keychain was a master key. We slipped quickly through the door and shut it behind us.
The room’s lights were off, but a half-dozen flat-panel monitors displayed scrolling lines of data. Violet light radiated from a long apparatus of glass and metal that dominated the center of the room. At the far end, a pencil-thick shaft of bright violet hit a prism and split into two weaker beams that extended into holes in the wall.
“That must be the entrelazar ,” I said.
“What?”
“Never mind,” I said. “Let’s see if it’s powerful enough to cut the chain on these handcuffs.”
We raised our handcuffed arms over the laser apparatus, one of us on each side, and walked to the far end of the room. We stopped just before reaching the prism.
A nod from Yelena signaled she was ready, and we lowered our wrists slowly. I held my breath as the handcuff chain entered the violet beam.
The reflection off the metal dazzled my eyes, and I blinked back tears. But I held my arm steady, and so did Yelena. But the laser seemed to have no effect.
“It was worth a try,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Wait,” she said. She walked to one of the workbenches along the side of the room, forcing me to lean over the laser with my arm stretched out, and she rummaged in some of the drawers.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
“Mirror.”
“Why?”
“I help you get pants,” she said. “Ah.” She held up a flat mirror about one foot square.
“How will that help?”
She walked to the prism and deftly leaned the mirror against it at a forty-five-degree angle. The violet beam reflected up into a ceiling tile, which burst into yellow flame.
“Fire,” she said. “We go now.”
I stared at the flames in horror. Without any time to prepare myself, I found myself flashing back to the fire when I was thirteen.
“Nat!” Yelena’s insistent voice wrenched my eyes away from the flames. We exited into the hallway and raced for the stairwell. A fire alarm blared from a loudspeaker on the wall, and strobe lights flashed.
“Security office on second floor,” she said, her mouth close to my ear so I could hear her over the alarm. “Handcuff key probably there.”
“Why did you start a fire?” I asked.
“Force evacuation, including security office.”
It had been a smart decision on her part, I conceded. She didn’t know my personal feelings about fire—and my feelings didn’t really matter. All that mattered was salvaging what I could of this mission.
Water sprayed from sprinklers in the stairwell as we ran up three flights to the ground floor. I expected her to try to take the exit, but she didn’t.
“Why are you helping me get my pants?” I said, squinting back at her through the strobe-lit spray of water.
“I need clothes, too.”
I couldn’t argue with that. A beautiful woman wandering around in the middle of the night, sopping wet, dressed only in her bra and panties, would attract attention.
On the second floor, I opened the door an inch and peeked out. A security guard I didn’t recognize was barreling down the hall toward us.
“Up,” I said.
We ran halfway up to the third floor and waited until the guard I’d seen was safely on his way down.
On entering the security office, I spotted a pile of black clothes on a table—and, just lying there for anybody to take, the prototype.
Yelena and I both lunged for it, but I had entered the office first and had longer arms,
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