The Athena Protocol by Shamim Sarif

Author:Shamim Sarif
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-08-30T16:00:00+00:00

11

IN MY HEAD, I CAN hear Amber going nuts.

“You haven’t planted the dot correctly,” she’s saying to Caitlin. “I can’t access the camera feeds. Can you, Hala?”

“No,” is Hala’s curt reply.

Caitlin doesn’t answer them, probably because she’s with someone.

“Get back in the camera room,” Amber pushes.

Christ, Amber, I think. Give Caitlin a minute to think.

“Dammit,” Caitlin says to whomever she’s with. “Kit wants a new camera system, and I meant to ask your guys about the panel they use.”

A pause. “You want to go back to the camera room?”

An accented male voice. Probably some security guy escorting her around.

“Just for a minute. Kit may kill me otherwise . . .”

It’s a bit of a lame excuse, but I can imagine Caitlin smiling that big, Southern, cheerleader smile, giving it everything she’s got.

I find myself circling around to the back of the house. In my bag I have a dynamic rope that’s perfect for climbing walls. Thin, black, discreet. My hand is already clasped around it as I reach the back wall of Gregory’s home, where his office is, an area that is not lit at all. I mean, I’m not sure what on earth I could do to help Caitlin from here, but on instinct I want to be there, ready to try.

I hear Caitlin walk back into the camera room and greet the security guards who must be watching the camera feeds. She spins her line about wanting to know how their CCTV works.

“Is that a magnum panel?” she asks.

“Yes, Chinese technology.”

“Facial recognition?”

That gets the guard excited, that she seems knowledgeable.

“Yes, and heat mapping, here—”

Someone barks something in Serbian. The guard shuts up and stops flirting with Caitlin over the CCTV box.

“I’m sorry,” Caitlin drawls apologetically. “I love this stuff, I get carried away. . . .”

She must have fixed the dot access because I hear Amber come in again.

“Okay, got it. Thanks.”

Caitlin wraps up the chitchat, and I stop where I am, because everything seems back on track now. And because I’ve just seen one of Gregory’s security goons—another muscleman in a black suit—walk around the corner of the house toward me. So far, I estimate at least twenty of these hulks. I counted seven in the house, and there are probably one or two more I didn’t see. And, including this guy, I’ve got twelve outside; a couple at the entrance, three around the stage, one always with eyes on Gregory, and the others sprinkled around the house entrances. This one is far enough away that I can slip around the other side, unnoticed, and head back toward the party.

I’m so absorbed in my own thoughts that a whoosh of sound and the thumping of bass drums makes me jump. The stage is flashing, lights strobing in rainbow colors. The drums are joined by electric guitars and a keyboard. Kit’s band is already onstage, warming up the crowd, who start moving forward now, a wave of tuxedos and colorful dresses, taking seats on the rows and rows of padded chairs in front of the stage.

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